It Looks Like A Firework

Every time I lay eyes on a Bee Balm flower it reminds me of a firework.  See?  And it looks especially good with daisies.  I'd like to say that I planted them together on purpose but I really didn't.





I finished knitting the Mosaic Practice hat last night and didn't have to add any more rows.  The top isn't exactly like the picture on the pattern but then that one's knitted in bulky yarn and I used worsted so only a fool would expect it to be the same.  Fool here.  *points to self*  What should I make next?





I couldn't help myself, I picked the first two ripe cherry tomatoes this morning and put them in Durwood's place at the table.  He ate them.  He liked them.  There'll be more.






The last Dad's rose is hanging on and soon there will be a lot of big white, sweet swelling lilies right there.  I can't wait.

July 17--Scott Van Sicklin, Heart with Pills.  Getting old isn't for sissies, Charlotte thought surveying the double-handful of  pills she took every morning.  Some of them were vitamins and some of them were prescriptions.  Some she recognized by size or shape and others by color.  What would happen if she stopped taking them all?  First she'd probably get heartburn from acid reflux, then she'd be gripped with anxiety followed by depression.  What was she forgetting?  She looked over the drift of pills on her napkin.  What was she forgetting?  Oh yes, that little round white one, her blood pressure medicine.  They said that a person couldn't tell if their blood pressure went up but that didn't make any sense.  A person should be able to feel it if her blood had to work harder to make its round.

Mom was convinced that she could feel every up-tick of her blood pressure.  Oddly enough she never felt when it was normal.  I've got one more errand to run before I make tossed salads and steamed mussels for me and Durwood for supper.  You are SO sorry you're not here.  Toodle-oo!
--Barbara