Dig, Dag, Dug

That's how you parse the verb "to dig," right?  Yeah, sure, that's totally right, mmhmm, or close enough.  BB, the handyman came just as I was in the middle of my morning blog (like a morning jog but less sweaty) so I had to quick get him started and then finish up because I got to dig the dirt out of the window well.  All by myself.  It was only two wheelbarrows full of dirt and rocks but it's a bit of a challenge when 1.) you're digging in a hole and B.) someone's on the other side of the wall breaking out cement blocks into the hole as you're making it.  But I managed.  See?  Now I'm all sweaty and dirty and tingly with awakened muscles (or is that throbbing sore muscles?) typing this P.S. blog while BB's off getting mortar and glass blocks to fill in the holes he made.  (I washed up and got most of the dirt off, really I did.)  We'd had one of the basement window wells blocked up (don't do it, it leaked like a sieve) years ago and the other one had the original window in it and it leaked too.  Earlier this year we had him fix our window well in the laundry area and it hasn't leaked once so that's what we're having done over on the rental side.  This afternoon the Best Buy guys will bring the new rental side clothes dryer and take away the broken one, and tonight the new tenants will come to go over the lease with Durwood and pay us security deposit and first month's rent.  Yay, money!

Did you notice the full moon last night?  It followed us home from supper and it was a beauty.  Once again I tried to take its picture and once again I kind of succeeded and kind of failed.  The Cherokee call it the Fruit Moon and the Choctaw call it the Women's Moon.  Whatever you call it it was sure beautiful.


August 20--Mary Cassatt, Margo in Orange Dress.  The dress settled around the little girl like spicy feathers but the lace ruffles of her hat nearly swallowed her head.  It was hard for someone so young to sit still for long enough to have her portrait made but she was promised a visit to the ponies if she behaved.  She loved the ponies, those sleek, spindle-legged thoroughbreds that raced around the oval at Keeneland.  Her hat was right for a day at the horse park, she knew that.  Grown up ladies wore fantastic hats to the races, she would fit right in.

Okay, then.  I've got my Gatorade G2 so I'm rehydrating and I'm on to tidying up so that the new tenants don't think we're slobs.  Better they should find out gradually.  See you.
--Barbara