marks my Tuesday this week. First I'm off to the bank to do estate stuff and cash my beloved paycheck. Then I'll visit the Dollar Store to get some Glade and after that I'll get my scraggly nails done by either Kim or Tuyn at the nail salon. I'll visit my friend Skully to see how she's feeling and gift her with Mom's big box of ribbon embroidery books and supplies because I know she likes to do that sort of stuff, maybe stop and play with Porter the grand-dog for a while and let Henny peck my newly painted nails (she loves my red nails, or maybe she hates them, but she pecks at them and I prefer to believe it's love), and then go to the DOLL ROOM to get a start on taping boxes shut and making prices on them. Hmm, maybe I'll go there sooner and load up the doll shoes, socks, and hats, then stop by the doll store on the east side to see if she'd like to buy them off us and save us the hassle of trying to sell them. Better call first. Dang it, another estate thought just zoomed through my mind and I wasn't fast enough to catch it. Oh well. Ah, got it. I need to stop at an office store to get some price tags for next Sunday. This afternoon or evening I want to whip up a cauldron of chicken soup for work lunches this week and next because I have to work lots of days and need something nutritious and delicious and not off-plan. I've got a big bag of frozen peaches, mangoes, pineapple and strawberries so I can defrost those for lunchtime fruit. Mmm, soup and fruit. What's not to love?
November 4--Edgar Degas, The Rehearsal Onstage. The floor was gritty with rosin and it crunched. LaBelle stood still and pale holding her last pose while the final notes quivered in the chilly air. A pair of hands clapped once startling her out of her concentration. She shuddered but let herself down off en pointe, her heels kissing like grainy floorboards like feathers. The chatter of the chorus girls and boys flowed around her as she drew a shawl gray like cobwebs across her shoulders. She was an oasis of dignity and calm in the center of the whirlwind of the stage.
And that's when the lines went all wonky and I dropped off to sleep. That Degas and his ballerinas. He had a mania for them, didn't he? I watched a series on the Impressionists from Netflix and really enjoyed seeing them as actual men instead of icons or shadowy figures lurking behind their paintings. Imagination is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Mine keeps me entertained all the time.