Finally Dusty's over her swine flu with an ear infection, Julie's seen the doc about her shin splints and got new arch supports for her crap shoes, and Mrs. Boss isn't on vacation so I don't have to work on Tuesdays so we can walk. Of course there's still 91% humidity so we had to walk in the mall (BOO!) but we walked. It's been 6 weeks since we were all able to make it. We agreed that we thought when we got to be "this age" that we'd have oodles of spare time to do everything and anything. Not true. All three of us are busier than ever, and Dusty and Julie only have part-part-part-time jobs. Life is crazy, isn't it?
August 30 (Happy 82nd Birthday, Mom!)--Greenwood, Maine. The morning mist rose from the still water of North Pond making the small island look as if it was floating. Like Brigadoon, the town supposed to emerge only once every hundred years, mystery lay easy on the small piece of land. Maura thought of centuries' old bonsai from Japan as she watched the light paint early-morning gold on the rising mist. The old cabin tucked under the trees was dark. Aunt Nora had always told her that a hermit lived out there. She remembered being afraid to paddle her canoe too close when she saw Frank Reynolds outside but once a sudden storm hit when she was out beyond the island and she was forced to go ashore there. He came out in the driving rain to help her drag her craft up out of the water and then heated some cider for her and told her stories to keep her calm while the wind wailed in the trees overhead. Turned out that Frank was an artist who painted the light under those trees and the wonders it illuminated. From then on every time she'd visited Aunt Nora she had spent a day or two a week sitting beside Frank on the island painting watercolors of wildflowers, pine cones, and toadstools.
Humph. Not bad.
--Barbara
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
A Nice Big Bruise...
is blooming on my upper arm just below the shoulder. I thought I had the shotgun butted up on my chest. Evidently not. My upper back and shoulders are all a bit stiff and achy this morning. Guess I don't use those muscles that way that much. Ah well, it was still fun and I'll still do it again, next time I'll be better at it. Or a whole lot worse because I'll be thinking about it too much. Isn't that the way it usually is?
How's your writing? I'm taking my notebook and my little tapes to work today so I can listen to my artist interview and make notes. Didn't get to that this weekend so I'm a little behind. See? There's that procrastination I'm famous for. I'm confident I'll manage to get a press release cranked out by Wednesday night. Never fear. Oh, and I had a camera snafu and the pictures I took of him and his art are gone. Technology! It's the pits.
August 29--Sao Miguel, Portuguese Azores. Leah lay on a chaise longue under the thatched pergola outside the villa. The tang of salt on the breeze tickled her nose and made it feel like the air was healthier for her. She admitted that laying out in the midday sun was frowned upon these days. Even though she wore SPF 100 sunscreen, everything she read said that sunlight was bad for you skin, any exposure at all. She didn't want to look like an old leather wallet when she hit her fifties but, my God, lying there was just so sybaritic. She liked the languor of her sun-heated muscles and the subtle color difference in her skin when she showered. She squinted at the angle of the sun. It was about time for Antonio the handsome gardener to arrive. She loosened the ties of her bikini top and turned onto her stomach. She made sure that the sides of her breasts were exposed and that her bikini bottom had ridden up a bit when she rubbed it with sunscreen. Everyone always said she had an excellent ass.
Well, what a minx. Or maybe I should say cougar. It's the start of yet another week, have a good one!
--Barbara
How's your writing? I'm taking my notebook and my little tapes to work today so I can listen to my artist interview and make notes. Didn't get to that this weekend so I'm a little behind. See? There's that procrastination I'm famous for. I'm confident I'll manage to get a press release cranked out by Wednesday night. Never fear. Oh, and I had a camera snafu and the pictures I took of him and his art are gone. Technology! It's the pits.
August 29--Sao Miguel, Portuguese Azores. Leah lay on a chaise longue under the thatched pergola outside the villa. The tang of salt on the breeze tickled her nose and made it feel like the air was healthier for her. She admitted that laying out in the midday sun was frowned upon these days. Even though she wore SPF 100 sunscreen, everything she read said that sunlight was bad for you skin, any exposure at all. She didn't want to look like an old leather wallet when she hit her fifties but, my God, lying there was just so sybaritic. She liked the languor of her sun-heated muscles and the subtle color difference in her skin when she showered. She squinted at the angle of the sun. It was about time for Antonio the handsome gardener to arrive. She loosened the ties of her bikini top and turned onto her stomach. She made sure that the sides of her breasts were exposed and that her bikini bottom had ridden up a bit when she rubbed it with sunscreen. Everyone always said she had an excellent ass.
Well, what a minx. Or maybe I should say cougar. It's the start of yet another week, have a good one!
--Barbara
Sunday, August 29, 2010
A New Experience
Today I did something I never thought I would. One of the dive club members is a champion sporting clays shooter and she arranged for anyone interested to go with her to a club and shoot. I had never shot a gun but there were instructors there to show us and coach us. I used DS's 20 gauge shotgun and Durwood used his 12 gauge. The gauge tells you the diameter of the barrel (I think), the bigger the number the smaller the shell. Anyway, we each bought a box of 25 shells and they divided us up into people who shot well, those who had shot a bit, and Brian, Deb, and me who hadn't shot at all. Durwood stayed with us because shooting is surprisingly strenuous, he needed to rest after 2 shots, and it was blazing hot so that isn't good for his breathing either. It was fun. We had an excellent coach. I hit a few, not many, and I was ready to be done when I'd shot my 25. After everyone was done shooting there was a lunch for us (to buy) that was excellent. Homemade hot turkey or BBQ pork sandwiches on potato rolls, chips, pickles, a pudding torte, and cookies. Oh, plus a drink, water or soda and it was only 8 bucks a person. Deelicious. We got home and I took a shower to cool off and Durwood's having a nap. It was a fun day and now if a story's character needs to shoot at least I know a little bit about it. They're going to have another one in October, we're going!
August 28--Sao Miguel, Portuguese Azores. You get what you pay for. It was the first time Paula and Dan had ignored their natural tendency toward thrift and rented a villa up in the hills of Sao Miguel overlooking the Atlantic. The Azores were far enough from the mainland that everywhere you looked you saw only sky and ocean. Paula found the view supremely restful but Dan missed seeing someplace else to go. They drove around the island, up and down the lush hills, along the coast road and down into the town of Sao Miguel. They strolled the streets of the little town stopping in shops and eating in the cafe. Dan had gone out fishing with Juan, someone he met on the dock and came back to the villa with some silver and slimy fish he wanted her to admire. She did, and then Carmen the maid gave it to the cook who did wonder things to it with garlic and herbs.
That's when my pencil ran out of lead and by the time I'd gotten out of bed, put some in, and gotten back into bed my train of thought had derailed. Maybe I can catch it again tonight.
--Barbara
August 28--Sao Miguel, Portuguese Azores. You get what you pay for. It was the first time Paula and Dan had ignored their natural tendency toward thrift and rented a villa up in the hills of Sao Miguel overlooking the Atlantic. The Azores were far enough from the mainland that everywhere you looked you saw only sky and ocean. Paula found the view supremely restful but Dan missed seeing someplace else to go. They drove around the island, up and down the lush hills, along the coast road and down into the town of Sao Miguel. They strolled the streets of the little town stopping in shops and eating in the cafe. Dan had gone out fishing with Juan, someone he met on the dock and came back to the villa with some silver and slimy fish he wanted her to admire. She did, and then Carmen the maid gave it to the cook who did wonder things to it with garlic and herbs.
That's when my pencil ran out of lead and by the time I'd gotten out of bed, put some in, and gotten back into bed my train of thought had derailed. Maybe I can catch it again tonight.
--Barbara
Saturday, August 28, 2010
I'm Weak
I had to go to Sturgeon Bay yesterday to interview an artist for an article I need to write for The Clearing's newsletter in the fall. I had a lovely and interesting talk with Ram Rojas and after I left him my car drove straight to Spin. I didn't do too badly, most of what I bought was in the 40% off basket but I did bring home one skein of lovely cotton yarn to use to make a scarf.
This is Dalegarn Ara wool from the bargain baskets. It's thick and thin and I thought it'd make an interesting shawl or bag. Each skein is just 55 yards so I'll have to find something needing around 275 yds., if you have an idea please leave a comment.
The colors of the Araucania Ulmo Multy are what attracted me. I'm usually a "red" girl but this green and purple grabbed me and wouldn't let go.
Knit on!
This is Dalegarn Ara wool from the bargain baskets. It's thick and thin and I thought it'd make an interesting shawl or bag. Each skein is just 55 yards so I'll have to find something needing around 275 yds., if you have an idea please leave a comment.
The colors of the Araucania Ulmo Multy are what attracted me. I'm usually a "red" girl but this green and purple grabbed me and wouldn't let go.
Knit on!
Farmer's Market
We just got back from visiting the Farmer's Market. It was very busy this morning, a parking spot was hard to find, but I managed. We had on our wide-brimmed hats and our official basket. Well, it's not "official" official, it's a market basket I carried back from Jamaica on my lap (that tells you how long ago) that lives in my car's trunk and is the perfect size for marketing. It has rounded ends, it rides perfectly on my crooked arm, and holds all the veggies we need for a week and then some. This week we got mixed green and wax beans, beets, kohlrabi, and okra. For our traditional breakfast I had 3 crab rangoons for 2 bucks and Durwood had a pork eggroll for a buck. We went hog wild and got a chicken wing stuffed with eggroll filling for $2.50 (yum!) and 3 battered and fried bananas for a buck, those we shared. It was too much fried stuff but...we are wild and crazy guys!
August 27 (can you believe it's already this late in the month???)--Fiji. The beach wasn't far away, maybe a dozen kicks would get her there. The water was warm and clear with corals in every shape, sponges galore, and fish darting in and out of the reefs nooks and crannies. Ginna could have stayed there all day. The kid in the watersports shack on the beach had sold her a fish ID book for $45 US and she was determined to get her money's worth. She was getting better at narrowing her search when she saw a new fish. She had learned to recognize the way a fish ate by the shape of its mouth and whether the fish was a carnivore, herbivore, or an omnivore. Who would ever use those words in dinner conversation? She did and no one's eyes glazed over, at least while she was there.
Sorry I petered out, I was tired. Eat fresh veggies today.
--Barbara
August 27 (can you believe it's already this late in the month???)--Fiji. The beach wasn't far away, maybe a dozen kicks would get her there. The water was warm and clear with corals in every shape, sponges galore, and fish darting in and out of the reefs nooks and crannies. Ginna could have stayed there all day. The kid in the watersports shack on the beach had sold her a fish ID book for $45 US and she was determined to get her money's worth. She was getting better at narrowing her search when she saw a new fish. She had learned to recognize the way a fish ate by the shape of its mouth and whether the fish was a carnivore, herbivore, or an omnivore. Who would ever use those words in dinner conversation? She did and no one's eyes glazed over, at least while she was there.
Sorry I petered out, I was tired. Eat fresh veggies today.
--Barbara
Friday, August 27, 2010
I Look Like A Dork
I had to go renew my driver's license before it expired next week on my birthday. Why do I always look like a dork or a criminal on ID photos? I shower, fix my hair and wear a red shirt. I compose my features and make sure I'm not smiling too big so I'm squinting and look shifty... and I still end up looking like a dork or a woman just out of the slammer. I guess I should be grateful that I don't look deranged. Durwood always looks handsome, smiling like a movie star, his ice blue eyes shining. Men! What is it with them? They lose weight easily and they look great on their driver's license photo. We hates 'em.
August 26--Lord Howe Island. Julian sat on the top of the rock that formed the northern end of the island. There was a boulder behind him that blocked most of the chilly wind that funneled between Lord Howe and the neighboring island. His hands cramped with the strength of the grip he kept on his binoculars and his thigh muscles shook as he tried to stretch them without rising and giving away his position. He'd been in place too long, but he didn't think of leaving. What he was doing was too vital. The intelligence he sent down the line in coded bursts let the troops prepare for what was coming toward them. The captains of the ships that passed never knew that their lives were in his hands. A gray smudge on the horizon caught his attention and he slowly lifted his binoculars so that there was no flash from the sun that might give away his perch. A destroyer, no, two escorting a carrier. He began composing his dispatch, never noticing the faint white trail as the sixteen-inch shell sped his way. He was vaporized by the time the sound of the shot reached his hide.
I have no idea where Lord Howe Island is or if there's another island next to it or if a war was ever fought there. Probably because people being people they're always fighting for one stupid reason or another. It's a miracle this many of us have survived this long. Happy weekending!
--Barbara
August 26--Lord Howe Island. Julian sat on the top of the rock that formed the northern end of the island. There was a boulder behind him that blocked most of the chilly wind that funneled between Lord Howe and the neighboring island. His hands cramped with the strength of the grip he kept on his binoculars and his thigh muscles shook as he tried to stretch them without rising and giving away his position. He'd been in place too long, but he didn't think of leaving. What he was doing was too vital. The intelligence he sent down the line in coded bursts let the troops prepare for what was coming toward them. The captains of the ships that passed never knew that their lives were in his hands. A gray smudge on the horizon caught his attention and he slowly lifted his binoculars so that there was no flash from the sun that might give away his perch. A destroyer, no, two escorting a carrier. He began composing his dispatch, never noticing the faint white trail as the sixteen-inch shell sped his way. He was vaporized by the time the sound of the shot reached his hide.
I have no idea where Lord Howe Island is or if there's another island next to it or if a war was ever fought there. Probably because people being people they're always fighting for one stupid reason or another. It's a miracle this many of us have survived this long. Happy weekending!
--Barbara
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Damned Skeeters
In the wee hours last night I got skeeter bit on my left middle finger. The itching drove me crazy for about an hour. Did I wake up enough to toddle into the bathroom and use the After Bite to stop the itch? No, I did not. I'd doze off and then wake myself up in a few minutes, scratching like crazy, and interrupting my dream. I wasn't dreaming anything important, just some jumble of being in the old Liberty St. neighborhood, but it was annoying all the same. Once I must have felt or heard it by my face because I woke up flapping my hands by my chin. So restful. I feel kind of groggy this morning so I'll be a dream at work. Good thing business has slacked off even more (if you can believe it) because of school starting soon. It amazes me that now that the water's nearly the warmest it gets people are staying away in droves.
August 25--Boracay, Philippines. Life is cruel, Enid thought, we can finally afford to go on a beach vacation to an exotic spot and we're too damned old to enjoy it. She and Barney had scrimped and saved their whole lives, buying cut rate this, sought out bargains for that, and hunted out things to do that were free. They made a game out of seeing how well they could live for as little as possible. It ruined them. They had one hell of a time prying open their wallets to get to this place they'd dreamed of for so many years. She thought Barney'd have a stroke when he looked over her shoulder at the price of their plane tickets even on one of those cut-rate websites. To balance out the sting she found a bungalow where they could fix their own meals to save on food costs and it was a bit back from the beach, just a couple of blocks, so it was a lot less than a beachfront resort. They sat in the shade on the beach and that's when she regretted being so careful with money. She was too old and out of shape to run down to the water and plunge in like the young women were doing. What had they been thinking when they spent their young and energetic days saving for the future? Had it never occurred to them that by the time they could afford their dream trip they'd be too blasted old and infirm to enjoy it? Hell, Barney couldn't even get a boner looking at all the girls in bikinis and he was actually drooling. What a damned waste.
Oh, I like Enid, don't you? I think I'm going to have to send them on more trips.
--Barbara
August 25--Boracay, Philippines. Life is cruel, Enid thought, we can finally afford to go on a beach vacation to an exotic spot and we're too damned old to enjoy it. She and Barney had scrimped and saved their whole lives, buying cut rate this, sought out bargains for that, and hunted out things to do that were free. They made a game out of seeing how well they could live for as little as possible. It ruined them. They had one hell of a time prying open their wallets to get to this place they'd dreamed of for so many years. She thought Barney'd have a stroke when he looked over her shoulder at the price of their plane tickets even on one of those cut-rate websites. To balance out the sting she found a bungalow where they could fix their own meals to save on food costs and it was a bit back from the beach, just a couple of blocks, so it was a lot less than a beachfront resort. They sat in the shade on the beach and that's when she regretted being so careful with money. She was too old and out of shape to run down to the water and plunge in like the young women were doing. What had they been thinking when they spent their young and energetic days saving for the future? Had it never occurred to them that by the time they could afford their dream trip they'd be too blasted old and infirm to enjoy it? Hell, Barney couldn't even get a boner looking at all the girls in bikinis and he was actually drooling. What a damned waste.
Oh, I like Enid, don't you? I think I'm going to have to send them on more trips.
--Barbara
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