This is the last Friday this month that I'll be off. Tomorrow Mrs. Boss leaves for 2 weeks in Ireland and that means I work all the days except Tuesdays and Sundays. I know, you all make fun of me for feeling sorry for myself having to work 5 days a week, but I don't usually do that so it seems like torture. I have to make a vat of soup and whirr up some fruit sorbet so I'll have lunches. *back of hand to forehead, I might need to lie down* I should mow today too. Oh my lord, I will need to lie down! I have such a hard life. Not.
July 15--Southport Island, Maine. That's a lot of sky, Mariette thought as she looked out of the ferryboat's windows. Maybe too much sky. For a girl from the northwoods where every vista was ringed by the comforting deep-green pine trees, the edge of the continent was a scary place. Now she had gone over the edge. She was on a boat on her way to see her friend, Georgia, who lived in the refurbished Cuckolds Lighthouse on a tiny island off the coast of Maine. "Come see me, Mari," she had said one day. "I'm going mad out here with the neverending sea pounding on my doorstep." So Mari went. She packed up a bag of books and a supply of their favorite snacks (Cheetos and root beer), and a copy of Rear Window, their all-time favorite movie. No visit was complete without a movie night. But Mari couldn't take her eyes off the expanse of sky. It made her dizzy the way it loomed over her.
I wish you could see the picture I had to write from. It's got a teensy thin strip of island at the bottom with a tiny little lighthouse in the lower right corner and the rest of the calender page is sky--big, scary, all-encompassing sky, an agoraphobic's nightmare. Inspiring.
--Barbara
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