See? This wasn't so bad. Who was that woman whining about working all week? She needs to chill. Last night I mowed the lawn after supper. I should have baled but though the humidity is lower, it's only a bit lower and the breezes that usually moderate our summers have fled. By the time I was half done I felt like I was wearing a buffalo robe instead of a thin t-shirt and shorts. I huffed and puffed my way around and around and around, up hill and down dale, and got it all mowed to an even height. Then I guzzled half a quart of Gatorade (the lower calorie kind) and took a shower. Ahhh. I had hoped to sew another skirt to wear to work today but I was just too tired after mowing. Maybe tonight, although today's Durwood's birthday (Happy 72nd, Sweetheart!) so we'll be going out for supper, but he's pretty old (and I'm not far behind) so we won't be out late. There'll be time to sew afterward, I'm sure. Tony Roma's isn't exactly a hotbed of party-ers anyway, especially not at 6 PM.
August 4--Charles Negre, The Refectory of the Imperial Asylum at Vincennes. Hats, Louise thought, they're all wearing hats. She stood in the doorway to the Refectory looking over the room full of bobbing hats. Most of them were straw and unadorned by ribbons, flowers, or feathers. One or two of the men wore the navy wool brimmed caps worn by seagoing men but the great majority wore what she thought of as gardening hats with deep crowns and wide brims. On one side of the room the patients lined tables where they pursued quiet crafts like weaving potholders on looms or painting wooden boxes bright colors. She noticed that many of the people only stared at the project in front of them.
I know I took the chicken's way out but I was too tired to write from a crazy person's perspective. Maybe someday. Stay cool. Stay hydrated.
--Barbara
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