Another One

 


I have another cucumber growing!  I know that this is blurry but it started to rain so I couldn't go take another one.  Trust me, it's another cucumber.




The lantana is evidently not palatable to the Japanese beetles.  I thought I saw one on the plant the other day but it turned out to be some sort of berry or seed pod.  Anyway, I love these flowers, the pastel colors remind me of sunrise.


It rained all afternoon starting about 1:30.  I had a date with LC and OJ at 3 o'clock so instead of watching them ride their bikes or play in the backyard I stood on their porch and we visited through the door.  I'm going back tomorrow when it hopefully won't be raining because LC learned to ride her two-wheeler on Monday and I need to see.  Besides, I miss them.


I've been keeping up with my Bullet Journal.  It's a great place to write down my Investment Cooking plan and list my daily to-dos, then write a little summary of the day.  I also tape in little pieces of fabric when I sew something.  Besides I get to write with a fountain pen which feels so nice and retro.  It's smooth.


Finished the first Log Cabin cloth this evening.  All of the tails (and there are a lot of them) still need weaving in but I'm still counting it finished.  I'm not a blue fan but I do like this Williamsburg-y blue paired with the cocoa brown.  I've got to cast on something small tomorrow because tomorrow evening is Knit in the Park with the knitting guild.  I can't knit on anything complex when I'm in a group.  I have enough trouble with complex patterns when I'm alone at home in the silence.

15 July--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession. 

“Have you been up to something criminal, George?” she said with a smile.

George shook his head.  “No.”

Rooibos stood up and extended his hand to Susan.  “I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Clemment.”  He smiled at her tease of her husband.  “I will investigate Major Clemment’s criminal activities at a later time.  Today I want to speak to you about Mr. Jack Spencer and Ms. Mona Davidson’s relationship.”

Susan sat down next to George and touched his hand.  “I am not sure what I can tell you.  Their relationship is none of my business.”

Rooibos smiles back at her.  “Oh, I am sure you noticed the way that they were together.

“Well, they weren’t lovey-dovey, that’s for certain.  Mr. Spencer had her stand next to him all evening, like a decoration.  He didn’t give her the opportunity to circulate, to meet other people at the party.” She picked up George’s mug and sipped his tea.  “For most of the evening I was busy with hostess duties but each time I saw Mona she was standing there at Jack’s elbow looking bored.  I tried to take her to meet other guests, but she just shook her head and said she’d stay by Jack.”

“Perhaps she was interested in what they were talking about?” Rooibos said.

Susan shook her head.  “Not a chance.  She looked around, shifted from foot to foot, never joined in the conversation.  No, Jack Spencer wanted her to stand there and stand there she did.”  Spots of color bloomed on her cheeks.  “I had lunch with her the next day at It Rains Fishes, she called and asked me to lunch.  She had on a blouse that didn’t quite cover up the fingertip-size bruises on her upper arm and when I asked about her life it was all she could do not to burst into tears.”

Rooibos leaned forward.  “Who else was in that group with Mr. Spencer and Ms. Davidson?”

“Dax Manning was holding court, fondling that gold doubloon he wears around his neck, and spinning tales of pirate ships and sunken treasure.  Jack was enthralled; Mona couldn’t have cared less.”

“Could Mr. Manning have been after Ms. Davidson? Would that be what made Mr. Spencer angry at her?”

Susan leaned forward in her chair.  “Dax Manning is the worst kind of womanizer.  He treats women as if they were put on the earth for his entertainment and to support him.”  She folded her arms across her chest.  “I know a few women who have had affairs with him.  All of them say that he only cares for his own enjoyment and satisfaction.  This island is too small for someone like Manning to operate in concealment.  People know the kind of shenanigans he gets up to.”

“What sort of shenanigans?”

Susan looked at George who looked back, gave a small nod, and then Susan looked back at Rooibos. “Manning runs drugs,” she said, “and he is a gold-plated scam artist. Anything he can do or get into that will make him easy money or help him squeeze money out of unsuspecting people he will do.” She shook her head at the memory.  “At the party he had on a gold doubloon necklace and spent the whole evening monopolizing the attention of many of the guests, Jack Spencer included, spinning tales implying that he was an experienced and successful treasure hunter.”

George cleared his throat and said, “I did a little research and no treasure ships went down in the waters around Bonaire. I said as much to Manning that night, but Manning looked at me with pity, said he was sure that I meant well but new information had come to light that a treasure ship might lie right offshore.  My efforts to curb Manning’s lies about treasure ships had earned me dirty looks from the guests around him so I took myself off to talk to the scientists. I decided that Manning make could chumps out of them if he wanted to.” 

Rooibos stood.  “Thank you both for your time.  You have been very kind.”

George showed him out.

Rooibos thought long and hard about whether Susan Clemment was angry enough at Jack Spencer’s bad treatment of Mona for her to have made a date to meet him in an out of the way place and shove him off the cliff but decided that she was too much of a lady to have done it.  If only he were a better judge of women, he would have known that Susan would be very likely to have pushed Jack eventually with very little remorse, but only after she had tried many times to get him to change his ways and reform.  

Today's toss was the Belgian waffle iron.  I have a smaller, plain old waffle iron that's perfect for my waffling needs.  I don't need a special one.  Out it went and I stopped by Goodwill (in the pouring rain) this afternoon and donated the things in the car so I can start over filling the back.  I'm kind of down to one thing a day but I figure as long as I keep tossing something it counts.  Besides I'm running out of boxes.
--Barbara