Partly Cloudy or is it Partly Sunny?

 I had a terrible night.  My prize in the side-effects lottery from my shingles shot was muscle aches.  It woke me up every hour or so through the night to change positions and mutter curses.  When I finally gave up at around 7:30am it was overcast and dreary, barely light.  But by noon it was fully sunny so I managed to take my aching muscles for a walk.  Thank god for Tylenol.  A couple of those beat back the aches enough to make the day bearable.  Now if only my arm would stop hurting where the shot went in.

I had a haircut appointment this morning and stopped to see DS on my way home.  They had just finished a bottling run so I got to watch him clean the system.  I wouldn't want to pay their water bill, they use a lot.

This Downy Woodpecker came to visit the suet pellets this morning.  He is very particular about which pellets he pecks.

I finished the Cast Sock #8 tonight.  This is odd colored yarn.  I keep thinking it's pinker than it turns out to be.

 

 

 

10 December--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

            We walked a few more yards before he spoke.  "I think you are facing a decision right now, are you not?"

            I hummed to let him know that I heard him

            He went on.  "You are thinking, should I invite Iggy in when we get to my studio?  Will Anne Robinson be sitting out in the courtyard like a mama spider keeping track of who goes into which room and how long they stay there?  If I invite him in, will I ever get supper tonight?"  I started to laugh and I could feel Iggy's chuckles where our bodies touched.  "And the biggest question," he said, "is whether you are wearing nice enough under things just in case circumstances go that way."

            I heard the laugh in his voice but his words were too close to reality for comfort.  I tugged my arm out from around his waist and stopped walking.  "I'm not sure I'm ready for anything that involves you seeing my under things."

            His hand reached out and cupped the back of my head.  "Rose.  Rosie, we will go at your pace.  I am just looking for a place to kiss you without interested eyes all around."

            That made me feel better, less frightened, so I slid back under his arm and resumed walking back toward Sydans.  He did have a point though.  The morning had been so long ago and I had spent my day sweating over the sewing machine and climbing up on a ladder to measure the hems of the curtain panels.  I had inherited my father's ability to sweat.  I had always hated that no matter what level of physical activity I did, I sweated, not a lady-like glistening, but a full-fledged, field hand, baling hay in mid-August sweat that rolled down my face, soaked my clothing and lingered forever in my nether regions.  Just the thought of Iggy and me alone in my studio was making me sweat from sheer desire, nerves, and the Caribbean night.

            Maybe I could distract him somehow and take a quick shower.  Maybe he would make us a sandwich... yeah, that would be good.  I could excuse myself and go clean up a bit.  We could eat our sandwiches, and then neck a little before saying good-night.  Do they still call it necking, I wondered.

Today's toss was the car seat.  I put it on NextDoor, the neighborhood hub, where you can sell and give away items or get recommendations for services and service people.  I met a nice couple in the Perkins parking lot where we exchanged the car seat for cash, from one grandmother to another.

Writing was kind of blah today, all of today was kind of blah.  I blame the shingles shot.

--Barbara