Are you surprised? I am. This week whizzed by so fast, didn't it? Oh. Well, it did for me. It was pretty quiet at work yesterday and I couldn't find some chore to keep me occupied so I knitted and pottered around. Man, that makes for a long day. And here it is Friday again with another weekend dribbling out before me. I say dribbling because it looks like it's going to pucker up and rain off and on the whole 3 days. That's what it's done the last 3 days. Why should it quit now when it's got a rhythm going? I called Skully last night and begged off walking today; I just didn't want to have to hear my alarm to wake up and now it looks like rain and since I don't want to be drenched again it looks like I made the right call.
Once Durwood gets up from his morning nap I plan to drag him to Stein's to pick out the plants for the garden (this year I'm holding him to 6 tomato plants, really, no extras, no hitchhikers, not this year) and some red tubular flowers for the hummingbirds. I saw a planter with red geraniums and yellow marigolds that I liked the look of so I'll get a few of those too. Maybe I'll nab some potting soil (oh wait, I have another bag of peat, I'm good) and make up some pots to put along the front. I think I've got pots. I want to get herbs too, fewer varieties (but only flat-leaf parsley, DIL1 says that's the best kind and she should know, she's a chef, a real one) but more of each so we'll have lots to cook with and lots to dry for winter. (I need to put rosemary on my list) I'm sure the garden soil's nice and damp and clumpy so I'll have Herman Munster feet by the time I'm done planting for sure. Oh well, that's what garden hoses and showers are for. I should probably make a rhubarb something today too, the rhubarb's gigantic and just begging to be picked. Or I could have Durwood make it since I'll be elbow-deep in the garden... yeah, that's what I'll do.
Did I show you the mug I bought myself up in Door Co.? (looking back, looking back) No, I didn't. Isn't it gorgeous? I paid twice what I'd planned to spend for one but I was enchanted by the city scene and the shape of the mug. A poet friend of mine "liked" this pottery on Facebook so I checked it out and "liked" it too. The potter posted pix of the mugs she was making for a pottery walk/mug-o-rama weekend in early May (I should have gone) and I fell for them. They look like woodcuts. She has lots of cats and flowers and some birds but this cityscape really struck me... and then my wallet burst open and then I was walking out with it in a bag. I really like it.
May 31--Mino da Fiesole, Diva Faustina. She had that Roman nose. You know, the one that's made for looking down at people. She wore her hair wound in a braided coronet around her head with tendrils escaping at her hairline. The curls sprang around her face like energy leaking from a dynamo. Her eyes were a smoky gray with gold flecks and her eyelids where heavy giving her the languid look of a sleeping cat, not a domesticated one either, a wild cat that will never be tamed. She had a throaty voice, low and a bit husky, that made you think of late night jazz clubs and unbridled passions. The first time I met her she was dressed all in white and I averted my eyes, afraid that my gaze would soil her.
Ye gods, sometimes I want to be her but not really. I'm too short and squatty and sarcastic, but I'm trying to like myself as I am. It's about time, don't you think? I'll be 62 in September. Time for breakfast. Toodles.