I Wanna Be Vera!

Or Ed. I'll even settle for Ed. It's warm and summer-y where they live, and I think they're either retired or independently wealthy. Either one would be fine. I think I may have a bit of cabin fever. Wanna know why? This morning there was a 3' snowdrift on the hood of my van and it's supposed to freezing rain tomorrow. Gotta love Wisconsin in March!

Jennifer, I think you should know that I'm considering enacting legislation mandating that only one writer can have some sort of abdominal distress at any one time. Perhaps you could postpone your procedure until Jenny's bowel is back in place? No? Well, I hope it all goes well for you. We'll miss you Thursday but I'm certain we'll have another project night soon.

March 9--Francisco Jose de Goya y Lucientes, Dance on the Banks of the River Manzanares. Ed had packed away his paints and easel as the sun started to slip into the west. The light was too gold and soon the dew would start to set. Bugs were starting to rise too, so he pushed back the canvas drapes and fastened them to the canopy frame. He smelled the garlic and herbs that Vera had in the skillet. She had promised to make mushroom risotto for supper and he was looking forward to it. Fireflies had begun courting in the underbrush along the riverbank and he could hear music drifting on the soft dusk breeze. When he stepped into the cabin he expected to see Vera moving to the music as she cooked but he could barely hear it indoors. "Can you hear that music, hon?" he said as he pulled out plates and silverware from the rack over the sink. Vera smiled at him over her shoulder. "I heard it earlier but now the food is making its own music." Stirring the hot broth into the risotto made her face glisten in the heat. "Pour me some iced tea, will you?" she said. "This is almost ready." She turned off the burner and slid the skillet to one side. She kissed Ed as she walked out to the rear deck. "Be right back." Ed watched her slip out of her shorts and tank top, then step into the shower stall and cool herself off under the water. In less than two minutes she was back with her hair wet and tousled, wearing a sun dress. She shared out the risotto onto their plates while Ed put extra ice in their tea. "Let's eat out back," he said. "I think someone upstream is having a party."

I tried to talk Don into being Ed the other day but he doesn't think he wants to paint. Then I said he could be Vera and I'd be Ed, but he said he doesn't know how to make risotto. I think he missed the point, but I'm still keeping him.
--Barbara