Make A Wish

Are you supposed to make a wish on a rainbow?  We had a rain squall come through with a fair amount of thunder and lightning so when the storm cleared and the sun came out to make this rainbow I wished that it would avoid where Lala was camping so she could sleep in a dry sleeping bag.  Anyway it was pretty.






There must have been some windy wind a few days ago because when I took a walk along the river I saw this big branch had fallen over the side.  I saw this mama duck perched on the thick branch and then noticed her half-grown ducklings huddled and hiding in the leaves barely poking out of the water.





I've been thinking a lot lately about how women "of a certain age" seem to disappear, both to society and, to some extent, themselves.  An employee at the food store the other day teased me about wearing mismatched socks and I told her that women our age start to disappear and mismatched socks are my way of fighting that.  She said her daughter had bought her a frilly black bra that she wouldn't wear because "bras are white."  I asked why not wear it and suggested that she wear her black bra to prove to herself that she's not disappearing.  Two days later I was back in the store and she stopped me, then tugged the collar of her uniform shirt aside to reveal a black bra strap.  Score one for us old-ish broads.  I was just chatting to the woman taking my money yesterday at a boutique and she mentioned that she feels like she's fading away.  I told her about my socks and Pam's bra and her whole face lit up; I think I've found a new "cause."  Good thing I'm retiring, I've got a lot of writing about being un-invisible to do.


Last night I watched Hidden Figures on DVD.  Good movie.  Almost as good as the book, not as in-depth, but good nevertheless.  While I watched I knitted on the Calypso anklet.  I got to the toe but was too tired to finish.  I'll get that done today.

June 20--Anonymous, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen by Rudolph Erich Raspe.  He had hitched his fortunes and himself to the crescent moon.  The Moon was not pleased.  He glared down his hooked nose at the puny human who dared presume on the strength of his moonlight.  Most of the stars paid no attention to the man who had lassoed the Moon at his lowest point and swung there peering down from that great height, but one star saw the way the Moon felt trapped by the man.  The star pulsed a warning and turned her light aside, luring a cloud to hide behind.

I have no idea what that means, it's what came out of the end of my pencil.  Now I'm going to gather up all my stuff, stop at the local yarn shop (of course), then visit the museum in Manitowoc to see the Chagall exhibit before heading on home.  Later, dudes and dudettes.
--Barbara