and the squirrel stole the ear of corn out of the feeder, the little minx. I went out the patio doors to plug in the fountain and caught the rodent red handed sitting on top of the fence with the cob of corn in its hands, er, paws looking at me as if to say, "what you gonna do about it?" so I threw the gallon jug of water at it. It dropped the corn and ran away. I put the corn back into the holder, retrieved my water jug, and filled the fountain. As soon as I was back in the house working out on the Wii, Durwood called that it had gotten the corn out again and taken off with it. Oh well, persistence wins, I guess, plus I have a big bag of corn ready for its turn on the firing line. No great loss.
July 31 & August 1--Dugi Otok, Croatia. Gail felt the bicycle wobble in the slipstream from the truck passing her on the narrow road. She frowned in concentration as her tires neared the edge of the pavement. She knew if she left the roadway she'd either fall and skin herself all up or end up with a flat or two. She heard another truck grind its gears behind her and prayed that the driver would leave her the twelve inches of road she needed. It had seemed like a good idea last winter when Abel suggested it. A bicycle tour of the Adriatic coast of Croatia sounded like the perfect way to spend a week. There would be a guide and quaint towns, vineyards and sweeping vistas. There was all of that, sure enough, but there were also saddle sores, everyone pedaled faster than she did, maniac truck drivers tried to squeeze her off the road, and farm dogs that wanted her ankles for chew toys. She was too busy staying alive to even enjoy the scenery. It was about time to admit defeat, she thought, and flag down the sag wagon trailing her and ride the rest of the way to that day's inn.
Not the worst thing I've ever written. Enjoy your day.
--Barbara
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