My Poor Hands

I've been washing my hands so much over the past eleventy-zillion weeks of captivity, uh, safer-at-home-ing that they feel like old lady's hands.  I did a sinkful of dishes this evening and then tried to knit and not only did my yarn not cling to my fingers like it's supposed to but the skin felt dry and tender.  Good thing I have a lotion bar from a friend right there by the couch.


I went over to DS's house this morning for a backyard visit and early Mother's Day (because it may snow or rain tomorrow so outdoor visiting could be a problem).  They gave me a beautiful red geranium hanging basket, two sweet cards, and OJ gave me a mint sprig.  Oh, OJ also said that he saw dinosaurs, Jesus, and Baba playing soccer in heaven on top of the clouds. !!!!!  DIL1 said that he told her that Baba hangs out in the playhouse on top of the climbing structure and OJ talks to him but Baba doesn't talk back.  I think that is so sweet coming from a little boy who was just over two years old when Durwood died.  LC told me once that she talks to Baba all the time too.  Glad I'm not the only one.




This afternoon I cut out one more Dress no. 1 out of this beautiful batik fabric.  I suspect that this might be the first one I sew up even if it's too chilly to wear a cotton dress just yet.




 

For supper I made a pot of chicken egg drop soup.  It's pretty good and a bowl of hot soup was just the thing for such a chilly and windy day.  I should have worn my winter coat and a hat on my backyard visit, that's how windy it was today.

09 May--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession. 

For a year or so Manning was content to prowl for young women to bed, but he came to realize that for the most part young women do not have much money, so their tips were small. Middle-aged women, however, do have money and they proved to be a rich vein to mine. He learned to read the signs when a wife was disenchanted with her husband, when a warm smile and a little flirtation would earn him a surreptitious sweetener from the little woman after the big man had magnanimously handed over five bucks. Five bucks, buddy? Can you spare it? he was tempted to shout at the retreating back strutting down the street, but he kept his cool and kept quiet. Sometimes the sweetener came with a breathless note setting up a late-night meeting outside one of the resort hotels. He was quick to nod agreement at the shy, pleading, hopeful eyes and make sure that even if the encounter involved only a few soul kisses in the shade of a bougainvillea and a quick grope that the woman went home feeling like she had been rebellious and had an adventure. 

Single middle-aged women were even better. Some were lesbians so they were immune to his charms, but many more single middle-aged women traveled alone as the years went by so Manning's opportunities expanded.

He was always careful to carry at least one condom in his wallet and a few in the glove box of the Jeep he bought with his first month's pay. He was careful not to catch anything from the women he bedded. Most of the husbands looked like they would not hesitate to have sex with just anyone and he was sure most of the wives were infected.

Manning learned to scuba dive from another of Oxford's cousins, Stebby, so he began to work on a dive boat too. He hauled tanks onboard, helped customers with gear assembly and got them into the water, and he swam at the back of the group to keep stragglers from straying. Stebby worked for Lora Divers at the priciest resort on the island, The Plaza, and he brought Manning on as boat crew while Manning went through scuba classes to get the certifications to lead dives. At first the job did not pay much but it was enough with his work on the Love Cow to pay his rent now that he no longer lived over Emile's garage, pay for food, and put a bit of gas in his Jeep.  One bad thing about an island this small, he had to clean up his act a bit, stop siphoning gas from cars parked near his and scale back his petty larceny, because everybody knew everybody else and word spread like lightning.  You screw someone in Playa and before nightfall all of Rincon knew.

I'm hoping for a halfway decent day this coming week so I can run the lawnmower.  It's getting to be time, but I don't want to mow in a parka.  I read in the newspaper that they're predicting a cooler and wetter summer for us.  Yippie.
--Barbara