Humid

In another mercurial weather change, the gorgeous weather transmogrified into an oppressive humidity with temps around 80. Naturally today's lawn mowing day so soon I'll be gasping my way around the hilly expanse that is our yard. It's really not that big, I wore a pedometer once when I mowed and it was just a mile but a mile's plenty when it's humid. Maybe Durwood will spray me with the hose as I walk by like people do for marathoners. I'll probably wait until late afternoon or early evening so that it's cooler then I can shower, eat supper, and collapse on the couch in the air conditioning for the evening. I love air conditioning. I found the perfect birthday gifts for DIL1 at Goodwill last night. She and DS are getting chickens for their backyard so Durwood went to Fleet Farm for a gift card so she can buy chicken husbandry needs and I put myself in charge if finding appropriate silly tangible gifts to wrap. The mug says "Get Well Eat Veggie Soup." The giant glass-glob chicken stole my heart. We can't figure out if it's a doorstop or a piece of art, but I love it and hope DIL1 will too. There were two of them but this one got to come home with me because the other one had a wall eye. I'm not giving anyone a shifty-looking chicken for a present.

June 3--India, Lucknow, Black Stork in a Landscape. It didn't look like it could fly. It looked too heavy and awkward, and frankly not smart enough. When it walked, well, more like stumbled after Rali the gardener, it picked up its feet like it was walking over logs instead of lawn. Its wings would flap like an infant flailing its arms to balance as it took its first steps. Juliana did not admire the thing. She was certain that it intentionally squawked when she was entertaining the Colonel's insufferable wife and had the revolting habit of regurgitating a mess of smelly yellow-green goo when it was startled. Everything startled the wretched thing. It was all she could do to maintain her composure when she and Mrs. Abernathy came out onto the veranda setting off a volley of honks and squawks followed by the noxious spatter of the stork's weak stomach. She didn't know how she kept her voice even when she told Rali to remove the bird to the back garden and return to clean up after it, but she did. Please God, Colonel Abernathy would hear and assume that Samuel was just as calm under pressure.

Okay, here I go to put the towels into the wash. What I really want to do is flop on the couch and knit. Maybe I'll do both!
--Barbara