Dear Marion,
We're in Konnarock now.  The trip was altogether uneventful.
If it seemed a bit more strenuous, old age probably accounts for the difference.
At about 7:20 p.m. on Thursday, we arrived at the supermarket in Chilhowie, -
here it's called "Food City" -, where we replenished our food supplies.
The sun was setting as we drove across Iron Mountain.
We reached the house at about 8 p.m. We found everything in good order. 
The lawn, which on recent surveillance images
I thought looked a bit scruffy had been freshly mowed.
Since the driveway is at the basement level behind the house,
there were many bags and groceries to be carried upstairs.
I attached to the computer the scanner and the printer
that I had brought along. All the equipment seemed
to be functioning as it should. Tomorrow morning,
I'll decide whether to resume production of the voluminous legal
filings which I may never need, or whether to spend time editing
my essays, - such as they are, and spinning out my novel for which,
as I've frequently noted, there is no end in sight.

Wednesday, the we left Belmont, we listened first to Schubert's
song cycle, Die Winterreise, which to my mind, is never out of season;
then to Don Giovanni whose refusal to repent strikes me as I get older,
to be the ultimate act of integrity for which, if I were the judge,
all his sins would be forgiven. On Thursday, which has by now become
yesterday, we listened to Cosi fan Tutte.  I was surprised that I had
forgotten virtually all of the Italian libretto which I thought I had
learned three years ago. My memory is not what I would like it to be.

If I stop writing now, it's because of an acute need to get organized.
Thank you for your account of the Minnesota State Fair.
When you go again, please convey my proxy admiration for them
to all your animals, and, unless you consider it a breach of confidence,
let me know what they say to you. I'll have more to write, once I
manage to straighten out my mind.

Jochen