but it's Friday to me. Because I don't have to work tomorrow, that's why. We're going to the garden center and buy plants for the garden tomorrow, so I'll get to play in the dirt. Yippee. I'm going to try and convinced Durwood that 9 is too many tomato plants and 6 might even be too many too. We could plant other veggies if Tomato Boy didn't hog all the space.
7 May--Anthony van Dyck, King Charles I of England Out Hunting. Oh, Charlie, you're such a fool. Everyone can see you don't really like hunting, you just go because all the other kings do it. Who but you wears white silk and red velvet out to hunt? You're going to get hot and sweaty (and bloody too if you do it right) and those clothes will never come clean. Do you even have a gun or a bow with you? I see your page (in his lace boot tops, no one hunts in lace, no one) holding your horse. (Hugging your horse, actually. Are he and the horse more than friends?) But the only weapon I see is your formal sword that matches your outfit. Charlie, you dandy, you look splendid with your trim little beard and rakishly cocked hat, and your matching calfskin boots and gloves, but, honey, wearing spurs and a sword does not make you a hunter. So put your cape back on, your pink cape, and let's go back for breakfast. I'm sure the painter has enough to go on, we're all impressed with your manliness by now, and I'm hungry.
See you tonight, writer people. Don't forget an exercise.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Don't work too hard, Mom! I know how much fun playing in the dirt is, but don't forget about your belly. I love you!
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