A Roof of Clouds

That was today.  DS came over for lunch and it got dark enough that I almost turned on the overhead light but settled for the full-spectrum lamp instead.  I'd promised him a bowl of the Red Beans, Sausage & Rice soup that I had in the crockpot but I'd used brown rice instead of white so it took a full 2 additional hours for the stuff to cook.  He didn't have that kind of time so I dug a couple black bean burgers out of the freezer and put them in the oven.  Happily I still have some onion bread so we had our burgers on that.  Yum.  I'll eat a bowl of the soup tomorrow.  It'll probably be better then anyway.





When DS left he told me that the top of the driveway was icy so I went out to salt it and found a full valance of icicles across the front of the house.  I'd knocked most of them down but then thought I should take a photo of the remaining ones.







While I was out there I grabbed an extension cord and the timer and got my lone exterior decoration on the porch and plugged in.  It's small but it's cheerful and I like it.  

Just as the sun started setting there was a break in the clouds (see the narrow slit on the horizon?) so sunlight tinted the clouds for a couple minutes--and I got pictures.  Hooray.




04 December--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire. 

He turned his back to the door, leaned over and dialed open the safe that was fitted into the credenza behind his desk.  He slid the letter back into its envelope and put it into the safe, scanning the desktop to make certain that nothing was there that shouldn’t be.  He pushed himself out of his chair, grunting as if he had suddenly aged ten years.

As soon as George had poured the sangria, Max lifted his glass and walked to the end of the patio facing the ocean.

Harriet picked up her glass and went back into the kitchen, saying, “I’ll just keep Sonia company.”

George sat, his drink untouched making a ring of condensation on the glass top of the table.

Max sat down opposite him as his wife left.  He peered at his old friend’s face.  “Looks like the news was as bad as you expected.”

“It was.”

Max sipped his drink.  “I know I shouldn’t ask, but are you going to accept?”

George picked up his drink and downed it in one long swallow.  “I don’t see a way around it.  We are told that we take a lifetime oath, you see.  And they take pains to remind you of it when you retire.”

“Same with the Navy,” Max said.

George was silent while he poured himself another drink.  “This stuff is refreshing.”  He sipped.  “Gives me a bit of retroactive sympathy for the chaps who got called back while I was still active.  Explains a lot about the shell-shocked look about them too.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

George shook his head.  “Turns out I had already begun.  We’ll just go on as normal.  You’re on holiday, after all.”

Max opened his mouth to respond but the sound of their wives bringing out the lunch silenced him.

The meal began with very little chat beyond compliments to Sonia for making such a delicious salad.

George assumed that Sonia had said something to Harriet because she didn’t seem confused by the lack of happy conversation.  He roused himself to try and get the group thinking of something else.  “So, Harriet, are you ready to have Sonia take you round the local bazaars this afternoon?”

Harriet looked up in surprise and then smiled.  “I think so.  I’ve been saving a few pence that Max doesn’t know about.”  She smiled at the faux-frown on her husband’s face.  “Don’t you worry, love.”  She patted his hand.  “I won’t break the bank for a few trinkets.”  Then she turned to Sonia.  “Didn’t you mention an art group meeting today?”

Sonia nodded.  “Yes, but not until seven this evening.  We will have plenty of time to cruise through the shops, such as they are, before then.”

This was me and Durwood forty-three years ago today.  I miss you, Old Guy.
Love, Barbara