We switched to new faster cable, Internet & phone last night--and had no Internet or phone last night or this morning. I called Tech Support and (eventually) got a nice lady who asked the right questions and i/we figured out that the installer had plugged the modem into an outlet governed by a switch. Gah! and Double Gah! I was livid at them (you know, them) and frustrated with Durwood because I was sure he had missed some vital info since I wasn't home when the installer was here. Not the case at all. Now we are phoning, internetting, and faster-bigger-better-more-channels cabling the hell out of the day. For less money than all three previously put together. Right now this very minute I have to go brush my teeth and then pick up Porter to go walking with Skully & Maggie, but I'll be back after our walk/drag to finish this.
(Watch this space!)
I'm back and it's much later, after noon even. After our walk I went to the clinic to have blood drawn for a blood glucose test since I hadn't had time for breakfast with all the calling and frustration before our walk, and then I went and had my nails done. Then when I got home Durwood said it was lunchtime and PIZZA! popped out of my mouth like a rabbit out of a hat, so I turned around and went to Papa Murphy's for a pie to bake. Ahh, pizza. I miss it. Now I'm ready to go downstairs to play with fabric and see if I can't dig up info on larger sizes of felted bowls in by phalanx of books and binders to feed my latest yarn mania. (If it's not one mania, it's another.) Tonight's yoga, then knitting! I can't wait. Don't tell the knitters, but the yoga might be my favorite part. Shhh.
March 8--Vincent van Gogh, Oleanders. He went out into the garden with the biggest knife he could find, whacked off a few blooms and shoved them into the cracked pitcher he used for his big brushes. The brushes went onto the floor. There wasn't a moment to waste, the light was right right now. He had to capture it. The oleander blossoms spread out as if they couldn't bear to be near each other. Vincent pulled out a canvas and set it on the easel. He worked quickly to get the shapes on the canvas and to get the perspective right. In the shaft of sunlight the white and red flowers seemed to wilt as he watched. Paint flew from palette to brush to canvas as he struggled to bring what he saw to life.
I was in a weird mood last night (don't know why) so I gave up and turned out the light. Must be the phase of the moon or something.