Seems Like The Rain's Stopped

It's no less dreary but it isn't actively raining anymore.  I think maybe it's not supposed to rain today but if it's done then it should be sunny.  Especially since it's Monday morning.  Monday morning needs to be sunny so that the beautiful shininess of it lures us out of our caves to go to work or school or errands or whatever.  (I'd like to be one of the "whatever" set but I have to go to work; DS is stopping by the dive shop to pick up his watch that he left in the kraut making area downstairs and it's payday, I have to go)

Today's Photo a Day theme is "dinnertime" so here's our fridge.  See that squarish, tall container?  That's our dinner tonight.  It's some tomato-y gravy stuff with onions and peppers and a chicken breast for us to share.  Durwood'll make rice or noodles and some veggies, a lot of veggies, and we'll gobble it right up.  I think it's the height of luxury that I don't have to plan, shop for, prepare, serve, and clean up our meals anymore.  I did my 30-some-odd years, it's his turn, and he's happy that it is.  I'm thrilled.

I was the only knitter able to go to Z-Dawg's yesterday for a bit of a get-together.  (we missed you, Cookie and Skully; next time)  It was a good thing to do on a rainy afternoon.  There were snacks.  My dip was delicious and she made a baked brie in pastry.  We weren't shy and gobbled them up quite enthusiastically.  Not that we ate enough for two more people, no, we didn't do that, but we made our share disappear and maybe a bit more too.  I got down to the last pattern row on my shawl while we sat and knitted and yakked, so I finished that row last night after supper.  Today I can embark on the last 4 rows of edging.  Soon it will be done and I will have a swell knitted shawl to cover my shoulders on chilly days.  Hooray!

Once I got home after knitting I sorted the wash and got it started.  And patched my jeans.  It's a sign that you've kept your jeans too long (is there such a thing?) when your back pockets are wearing holes at the corners.  I don't use the back pockets so I ironed on patches on the inside and sewed around them to keep them in place.  I suppose I could recycle them, cut them apart and make them into something else, but I like my jeans.  I've had them for years and years and years and years.  At least 15 years, probably a lot more.  I do have a couple pairs of new jeans that are all stylish and fitty but I like the old, broken in ones for daily wear.  I choose to believe that it's a triumph that I can still fit into them, not that I'm thin or anything, but my size hasn't changed all that much in all those years.  Granted some years they've been tighter and some years they've been looser but overall, even with losing about 30 lbs. a few years ago, I haven't changed much since the late 1990s.  Physically anyway.  (that's kind of depressing, isn't it?)

I stayed up a bit late (of course I did) listening to the end of a novel I had on my iPod and waiting to put the last load of wash into the dryer.  I hate when I forget a load and the one in the dryer's a "hang up" load so I'm left with a glob of wrinkled shirts in the dryer and mildewy ones in the washer.  Better to stay up until 11 o'clock (again) than have wrinkled and smelly clothes.  Right?  Right.  

Have you read any of the Gabriel Allon novels by Daniel Silva?  You need to check them out.  He's an art restorer who also works for "the Office" in Israeli intelligence as an assassin.  They remind me of Ken Follett or John LeCarre novels but Allon's dealing with terrorists instead of Nazis and he has an interesting cover job.  There's a raft of books (I don't know how many) in the series and they're so good I'm reading (actually, listening to) them out of order and I NEVER do that.  I'm gobbling these up like candy corn. Winter's coming and you'll need a bunch of books to survive the cold; these might be the ones.  (thanks again, Carrie, for the recommendation)

October 15--Edouard Manet, Peonies.  He heard her latch the French doors and hum to herself as she crossed the hall and went into the kitchen.  He has chosen his hiding place well.  He knew that her husband Marcus was out of town because the fool had been broadcasting around in the tavern on the weekend.  "Poor Maya has to stay home while I'll be in Rockland on business."  Marcus had waggled his eyebrows when he had drawled "business" as if he would be cavorting with another woman.  Maya would not eat in the dining room alone so he could be sure she wouldn't notice him crouched next to the buffet.  He imagined how soft her skin would feel, how her eyes were glitter in the night light, how her breathing would deepen as he caressed her, and how it would stop when he held her throat in his hands.  Soon now.  It was getting dark.  Soon.

Yipes, I think maybe I've watched too much Criminal Minds, but I like it.  Have your day.  Hope it's sunny where you are.
--Barbara Sue