December 20--French, Parasol. Miss Elizabeth was very regular in her habits. She rose daily at 6:15 AM winter and summer. In the winter dark she drank her tea at the kitchen table watching the eastern sky lighten with the growing day. In the summer she carried her teapot and cup out to the patio where she could watch the drab little sparrows and the energetic chickadees at the feeder. When the sun was up over the horizon Miss Elizabeth would set down her tea cup and open her parasol. Not an umbrella, no, this was a silk and lace confection meant never to get wet. Its panels were painted in pastel scenes of millage life in Victorian times intercut by swaths of the most delicate lace and the lace edging was a full six inches deep. When her neighbor chided her for using such an ancient and delicate item in such a utilitarian way, Miss Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height of just barely five feet and said, "We were both created in the same year,the parasol and I, and since I am still in use, it should be too." And that was the end of that discussion.
Yoga after work tonight. Can't wait.