Rainy Monday

What made Mother Nature think having it rain all day on a January Monday was a good idea, I just don't know.  Two good things:  I got to wear my polka dotted rain boots and it wasn't cold enough to freeze the rain on the pavement.  I think it's supposed to get down to freezing for the next couple days so we'll see what adventures that brings.

I met part of the St. Agnes Grade School Class of 1965 for our monthly cheeseburger lunch at Sidekicks in DePere.  The waitress is amazing.  We go in once a month and she remembers what we each ordered the last time AND she doesn't write anything down.  A. Mazing.  After lunch I drove directly to the Y, left my rain boots in a locker, and spent about an hour walking, using weight machines, and the recumbent stepper.  I will confess that my legs were a bit shaky and a bit achy when I left because I didn't manage to get there last week what with back-to-back assistant days and the holiday.  As I was headed to put my stuff in a locker I met a woman who had been in the knitting guild until about a year ago.  We had a nice chat.  Cross my heart that I'll haul my fattass over there at least twice more this week.

Even working so hard to pin words to the page and being so busy keeping the fire lit I did get some knitting accomplished last weekend.  One of my goals for the year is to knit a Seaman's Cowl every month and 3 or 4 preemie hats a month too.  I didn't get much charity knitting done last year and I missed it.  I knitted a couple more inches of red onto the cowl this evening and the preemie hat needs about another two rounds before I start the decreases.






When I stopped at Renard's south of Sturgeon Bay for cheese on Thursday I also made use of the facilities.  I was glad to see that both restrooms have "either/or" signs on them so no one has to stand doing the pee-pee dance in the hall or agonize over which one to choose.

This was my window.  It doesn't look like much but it afforded me a view of the winter woods, bare birch trees and peeks of the bay through the pine trees when I did my morning yoga.  Very restful.

7 January--Tropical Obsession.  You expect they'll make noise. There's a very distinctive sound on the Blue Planet videos when they're around but it took personal experience to show me how silent it is. Silent might not be the right word; it's never really silent underwater. For one thing there's your own Darth Vader breathing that you hope continues to accompany your every underwater move. And the identical whoosh-click of your buddy. I know, it seems like a childish word for a person into whose hands you place your life, but that's what your dive partner is called, your buddy. Shrimp make a sound like popping corn; you hear the water on the shore messing around the broken coral, and the roar of passing boats. Parrotfish crunch bites from coral heads. But big schools of little silver fish don't make a swishing sound when they change direction underwater. They don't--and eels don't hiss either. (No voice box.) TV lies. 

I hope you don't get bored with these prompts from long ago.  I'm enjoying revisiting them and hope that by reposting them a solution of what to do with the lot of them occurs to me.  One of the apps on my phone (not a text) woke me up before 7 o'clock this morning.  I was not amused.

--Barbara