Since it's my last work day of the week so today is like crossing the International Date Line of my week, tomorrow I get Friday again. Good deal, huh? I try to treat Friday as my "day out of time" and not have a string of errands and chores to do, all that can wait for Saturday. Once again I'm hoping to go diving on Sunday with Kev & Deb. (fingers crossed) Last weekend he had a gig on Saturday night and didn't get home until the wee hours so they didn't get moving until after noon and by then I was embroiled in other plans, plus it was Suds & Cinema night. Can't miss that, ya know. Ah well. It's all good. I woke up with that scratchy feeling behind my nose and pressure in my sinuses. I'm totally blaming the wacky weather we've had so far this summer. If this is a cold I'm not accepting delivery. No way. No time to be sick, there's too much fun stuff to do. The weather was absolutely perfect at the City Band concert last night, warm with a nice cool breeze that kept the mosquitoes away. They played a mix of marches, waltzes, Gershwin tunes, and a little opera with a wonderful tenor who teaches at the local university singing. Man, I love that stuff. It peeves me no end that it's been so beastly hot this month, too hot to go sit in the park. Oh good, I just checked the schedule for the rest of the summer and I'll only miss the last concert (if the weather cooperates) being out West. I am a good person. How do I know? I just went out into the gorgeous morning sunshine to tie up Durwood's tomato plants. Oh, wait, it only took ten minutes and it was my only chance to be outside today until nearly sunset, I got to do a little weeding, and my fingers smell great with tomato leaf scent. Hm, not so selfless now, am I? I prefer to think of it as looking on the bright side. (Pollyanna, anyone?) DD called me yesterday to say that she couldn't wait until tomorrow and opened her Happy Birthday package when it arrived yesterday, and she loved it. She wanted a darning egg to fix the holes in her handknit socks. I didn't have one and I don't think Mom did either, at least I didn't find one there and that's the sort of thing I'd have kept, so I went down to Ralph's Antiques. The place is a maze and a fire hazard and Ralph's a little "handsy" (but he's old and you can distract him, I have for years) but if you're thorough you can find goodies. I searched and searched and finally found one tucked in a case behind a gate with a "no admittance" sign on it. While Ralph was distracted by 2 younger and shapelier girls, I breached the gate and nabbed the egg. Victory was mine! It's got the patina of the ages, but I washed most of that off with a little Murphy's Oil Soap, and I knew she'd love it. Then I sewed her up a little zippered bag to keep her darning supplies in. When I think of it, it's not much but it took some effort and risk (remember those old man hands) to get and I thought of her while I sewed. Now every time she darns socks for the rest of her life she'll think of me and how much love her. That's a gift for both of us. Today's Photo a Day is "texture." I took pictures of dried corn on the cob, the felted and fluffy pencil cup holder on the table, but the winner is the chicken wire and rattan basket of peaches in the sunlight on the kitchen counter. Have a day. Gotta run.
July 12--Franck, Canal St. Martin. The drips were a constant rhythm as Marie slid along on the brick edge of the tunnel. Way far away sunlight poked into the dark where the canal joined the river. La rive gauche they called it, the Left Bank where artists and musicians lived and drank. Marie worked in a little tabac on a side street. She had done a bit of modeling but she was too plain, not exotic looking enough for the latest crop of visionaries to haunt the galleries and cafes. She probably shouldn't be down there walking home but it was cool down there and the traffic up top was murder. Taking the shortcut through the canal shaved nearly fifteen minutes from her walk. After spending ten hours on her feet behind the cash register she was in a hurry to get to her apartment and put her feet up.
Oh, honey, turn back now. But she won't, you know she won't, and it'll be bad. I can already hear the music, can't you? Adios, muchachas.