Fight against the dying of the light

And so we managed a little bit more in the walk department, with a minimum of exhortation. All I had to do was conjure up the specter of my dad's specter, urging my mother to get out and move. We had a good chuckle over that image. All our exercising was accomplished between rain and wind gusts for once.
We went out later for a light dinner, and had to travel a ways down the avenue to find a place with an open table. Good news for the neighborhood's previously spotty restaurant options.
Finished Murdoch's The Black Prince, and got a start in her 1974 novel, The Sacred and Profane Love Machine.