I sloughed off yesterday. Well, it rained and rained and drizzled so I elected to stay dry-ish, also it was soooo humid when I went outside to take a couple sunset pictures, well, I felt like I'd taken a shower when I came in. (see the robin on the fence?) Ugh. There's nothing worse than 80+% humidity with matching temperature. Ugh ugh ugh. It's a little better this morning so I went out and reined in the wildly growing 'maters. Sunny, hot, and wet--that's how they like it.
My trip to the chiro yesterday felt good, but she reawakened or relocated the owies, especially the one in the front of my right shoulder. I guess I'm still in the "make it hurt so it gets better" stage. I'd like to be over that, please, especially when I'm trying to find a way to sleep. Can't sleep on my right shoulder (the regular way), can't sleep on my left shoulder (the right one folds in and hurts), and can't seem to find the right position on my back (knees cocked left, right, flat?). I finally got up just before midnight and took a pain pill, problem solved in about 10 minutes, but I'm still sore this morning.
Big storms came through in the afternoon. As the front moved in Durwood's breathing worsened so I got the list and got to go to the store all by myself. (Hey, I'm not the chef, I just pick the meat, he does the rest so I get a list) I confess that I did take thirty bucks of my mad money and bought myself some new sports bras and camisoles at Walmart. That's when it rained, hard, and that's when I saw KW who I was up at The Clearing with in May. That was unexpected and fun. (I don't know why I was surprised to see her, we live about 2 miles apart in tiny [104k] ol' Green Bay. Tsk.) I got a little wet in the rain but not soaked so I didn't catch a chill in the next store, the grocery one, and I got all the things on the list and only one thing more. *pats self on back*
Just as Durwood was getting supper into the oven my phone rang and knitting pal, MW, was calling to say that he'd found the mother lode of merino/silk yarn at Goodwill and he hadn't bought it all. I zipped right over. (what? it's 3 blocks) I was determined to only spend the money that I had in my mad money and not a penny more. It was hard but I managed. Then I was thinking at supper, I'd only bought half of the silk/merino (which was a deep red), if I bought the rest I could maybe make a sweater for me. So after supper I dug into my stash $ and deep stash $, went over, and bought the rest of it. I'm done with the "retail therapy" for a while, a loooong while. (yeah, because I'm broke) There was also some bright yarn that'll make a lovely something for an impending baby. (teehee, a baby) I bought that too, plus some other random yarn I couldn't leave behind. (that crash you heard was me breaking my yarn diet, big time)
July 10--Paul Herman and Jean de Limbourg, Jeanne of Boulogne, Duchess of Berry, Praying to the Trinity. Every day they had to go to Mass. Sister Joseph Therese would line them up, making sure that the girls had something to cover their heads with, even if it was half a Kleenex. They marched in straggly lines down the dim terrazzo stairs that were so slick with melted snow in the winter, down to the chapel in the school basement. Two boys from the upper grades peeled off and went to put cassocks on over their white shirts and dark pants to serve as altar boys for Father. If they were lucky Father Loeffler said the Mass. He was a young priest who jumped rope with the girls on the playground and played touch football with the boys. He gave short, sporty sermons that sometimes were even funny. Those funny sermons made Sister click her tongue. If they were unlucky old Father Auer was the celebrant. He was slow and deliberate and gave sermons about sin and obedience and prayer. He went on and on. He never made a joke, never smiled, and never came onto the playground. They were scared of Father Auer.
Hey, that was my childhood, although Father Loeffler was at Sacred Heart in Evansville, IN and Father Auer was at St. Agnes in Green Bay, WI. It's fiction, I get to move folks around if I want. I can change the landscape too, so nyah. *sticks tongue out* Ooh, my grandma used to say a bird would come and poop on your tongue if you stuck it out. Never did, and I've stuck my tongue out lots, so she might have been wrong. No, grandma's are never wrong. Ask 'em. It's a work day so--seeyabye!