Peggy and I met at The Attic last night and did a little scribbling in our notebooks. Neither of us was brilliant but we hadn't forgotten everything. Next week Nancy will be back too and we'll plan out our writing year. Brandon was happy to see us again.
Jenny, how are you? What's happening? We're all on pins and needles. Report, please!
September 16--Dominican Republic. See how high tides have undercut the sand where the line of palm trees is? The roots are exposed and the trees all lean higglety-pigglety as if strong winds could topple them. I feel like one of those trees living here in this tourist culture. How do people manage to stay sane with all of the lobster red and peeling visitors everywhere? They're in the market frowning at the unfamiliar money in their hands and poking at foods they're not used to in restaurants. They've left home to get out of their rut and yet their lips curl and they turn up their noses at anything new.
And now I get to shower, dress, and take Durwood to the clinic for some tests. No need to worry, they're just regular but he'll be out for them and needs a driver. That's me. I'm taking my knitting.
--Barbara
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