Not A Blur

 I got one!  Got a picture of a bee on a mint flower and neither of them is blurry.  I love

watching the industry of the bees on these flowers.  There are all varieties of bees on there--big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones.  Lots of bees buzzing!

My blog shaming the tomatoes is working.  If you look at the tomato on the right you can just see that it's turning a different color, there's a little pink in all that green.  Trust me on this, it's starting to ripen.

Another zinnia flower is still blooming, this time a yellow one.  The plants look dead, leaves are all brown, and the goldfinches land on them and tear the flower heads apart, but this little flower is still growing.

 

I cast on a new project this afternoon.  It's the Rib Lace scarf from MDK Field Guild #15--Open.  It's the simplest of the four lace patterns in the guide so it's the place to start.  I got a couple inches knitted on it with no distractions, not even an audiobook, so that I'd be familiar with the pattern tonight at Friday Night Knitting.  I wasn't sure I'd be able to knit on it successfully with six other people all chatting but I managed to knit on it for half of the time with only one big booboo that was easily fixed with a handy crochet hook.  I'm calling it the Livingston Rib Lace scarf because I bought the yarn in Livingston, MT last summer.

Once my concentration was shot I picked up cast sock #4 which is at the knit around and around stage.  But I'm not sure I have enough yarn to finish it so I started the decreases earlier than I might have if I had more yarn.  It'll be fine, she says hopefully.

21 August--Barbara Malcolm, Better Than Mom's. 

Finally the row of men seemed to be finished.  Fay moved down the line with the coffee pots one more time, smiling at each of the men, offering more and removing the soiled dishes.  As she reached the end of the row and refilled his mug, Flats thanked her and turned to his friends. 

“We should plan our next ride, men.”  He leaned toward Fay as if imparting a secret. “I am social director this quarter.” 

She did not know what to say except, “Oh.”

 She stooped to pick up the heavy tub of dirty dishes and looked down the counter to see each biker take out a smart phone. 

“What date are you thinking about, Flats?” asked Black Lightning. 

“I am looking at either the thirteenth or the twenty-seventh.” 

Each man poked at the little screen in his hand, some nodding and some shaking their heads. 

“The twenty-seventh will not work for me,” said Road Rash, “my mother-in-law will be visiting, but the thirteenth is okay.” 

“I am free either day,” said Splat. “The kids will be at music camp and Julia is planning two weeks at a spa in Arizona with her sisters.” 

“We could be free on the thirteenth,” said Thunderpants.  “Black Lightning and I have a gallery opening on the twelfth, so we should be more than ready to ride the next day.  We will need a few highway miles to blow off that art crowd stink.” 

Flats leaned back to look down the row.  “What about you, Mom’s Revenge and Fearless Leader?” 

Mom’s Revenge was poking at his screen.  “Damned technology.  I will have to get back to you.  This thing seems to be toast.  But I should be able to clear my day unless it is my weekend on call.  I will email you tonight.”  He turned to the man next to him.  “Fearless Leader?” 

 He was frowning at his screen.  “I think I can make the thirteenth.  It will depend on which judge I draw in that case I told you about, but I will have all my research wrapped up this week, so give me until next Thursday to say with certainty.” 

Flats shook his head at that.  “You put the man in charge, and he loses the ability to make decisions.  Okay, men, barring unforeseen circumstances, we ride again on the thirteenth.” 

Their phones were slid back into inside pockets. 

Fearless Leader took a last sip of his coffee, tossed two hundred-dollar bills on the counter, saying to Fay “keep the change, honey” and stood up, pulled his gloves from his pocket and put them on.  “Come, men.  We ride.” 

The seven men pulled on their gloves as they stood and repeated “we ride.” 

They followed Fearless Leader out into the parking lot, mounted their motorcycles, and roared off toward the interstate.  Fay watched them leave with a mix of relief and regret.  Then she saw the money on the counter.  She picked up the tab for just over seventy-dollars in one hand and the two hundred-dollar bills in the other.  “Hey, mister,” she said, lifting the money toward the door, “you forgot your change.”  She stood looking from one hand to the other then she called out, “Brady!” 

He came out of the kitchen saying, “They stiffed us, didn’t they?  Dammit, I knew they were going to stiff us.”  He stopped next to Fay and snatched the tab from her nerveless fingers.  “How bad is it?” 

She tried to say something.  It took her a few tries to get the sounds out.  “No, they did not stiff us.”  She lifted the bills and waved them under his nose.  “They left a one-hundred-thirty-dollar tip on a seventy-dollar tab.”  She turned to see Naomi peering through the pass-through window.  “Naomi, honey, we are rich.”

Today's toss was a box of kids' books that I bought at the library book sale a few years ago.  Most of them are too young for the kids or not in their interests.  Someone will love them.  If not for COVID, I'd drive around the city putting them in little free libraries, but I'm not risking it.

--Barbara