At A Trot...

That's been my day in a nutshell. This morning I walked with my friends and Porter (she really gives me a workout), then I visited with DIL1, stopped at AAA for a map and tour book so Durwood and I can plan our week in the Upper Peninsula of MI looking at the fall colors and just getting out of Dodge for a time in early October. Showered, lunched (mmm, yummy grilled veggies on a whole wheat tortilla with Swiss cheese and a few cherry tomatoes on the side), had a physical and got a flu shot, then combed the west side for a hula hoop (found 2 at Big Lots and bought them) so Durwood can teach Porter how to jump through it. I'm all sweaty just typing it. Durwood's out in the kitchen canning his last 2 batches of tomato soup. He's having a blast putting up tomato juice and soup--and it keeps him out of mischief. (Actually, it keeps him from being bored which I suspect is his biggest day-to-day problem.) I want to get this posted so I can go knit on my shawl so I'm going (Durwood just needed me to help him jar up the last 11 pints of soup) to post last night's writing and get to knitting.

September 19--Edouard Manet, Boating. "So I said to her, I said, I wouldn't be caught dead in white before Memorial Day, would you? And she said that in Japan white's a symbol of mourning. I wonder what they think of brides over here. I mean, brides wear white as a symbol of purity, even if it's a lie, so what do Japanese people do when they get married over here? Do you think they wear white anyway since it's traditional? Not like it's a law or anything but, seriously, you should play along with the way things are where a person lives. It's nice out here on the water. Don't you think it's nice? I'm glad we came. Did you remember the picnic? I don't remember carrying it down to the boat, but I do remember putting it in the car. Have you seen Mavis' new car? It's a navy blue Renault four-door. A four-door's much better than a two-door, don't you think? So much easier to get into and out of." Sophie leaned back on her elbows in the bow of the boat. Francois steered, a glazed look masking any emotion the barrage of mindless chatter might cause.

You should see the look on the man's face in this painting. You can see that the woman's mouth is open and she's reclined. He's sitting stiffly with his arm on the tiller and he looks like he's ready to hold her under. What a lovely boating day. I'm off to knit.
--Barbara