Where's Diego?

Upended streets? Rivering sky? Who's the synesthetic now? Nice images, Bob. You might be on to something, Bob. I do think Aunt Mame's bedtime is earlier than mine, so my writing's a bit freer when I write late at night. Ann's gone back to KY and Don's back where he belongs, so I wrote last night.

Sunlight sparkled through the clear water in the pool behind the villa. When they had arrived a few days ago Sharon had wondered why anyone would go to the trouble and expense of blasting out a pool when the ocean was right there, just down the stairs at the end of the deck. Now she loved the pool; it was cleaned every day by Henkel, the pool man, and there was a beautiful big angelfish made of tiles in the bottom. She idly trailed a finger in the blood-warm water. Lying on the baking tiles of the pool deck made her sympathize with how a sub sandwich must feel toasting on a grill. Diego had left her early this morning; he kissed her shoulder in the dim cool morning telling her he had a meeting. She vaguely remembered hearing the door close and the distant sound of the car driving away. That was hours ago. The maid, Maria, had come, cleaned and cooked, and gone. Maria had made her a bowl of ceviche from fresh-caught fish from the local fishermen, limes and tomatoes from La Portugesa, and big sweet onions from the Venezuelan fruit temple across from the town pier, and had even made johnny cakes to eat it with. Diego would have loved it. He should have been back for a late lunch, he said he would be back, but he hadn't returned. She had made a pitcher of planter's punch after Maria left, and drunk nearly half of it when she realized she was lying on the tiles telling her troubles to the pretty blue and yellow fish on the pool bottom. But where was Diego?

Check out the crocheting/knitting blog to see what Ann and I made last weekend. (There's a link on the left.) We're too cool. And speaking of cool, I notice it's autumn again. Pretty soon it'll stop swinging back and forth from summer to fall, summer to fall, and stick on fall. I could stand having a few more days like yesterday, yeah, a few hundred. What a perfect day!

--Barbara