Almost Nothing

That's what I did today, almost nothing.  No, really.  I spent at least an hour looking at the Sunday newspaper.  I attempted to do the Jumble and Sudoku, but not the crossword puzzle because it's just too big.  For some reason that annoys me.  I can't explain it.  Then I folded a basket of clean laundry and put it away.


It wasn't warm outside today, not at all, but it was just barely warm enough (36 degrees) to almost melt the rest of the glacier on the patio.  See?  Yesterday when I was out there I swept all of the rabbit raisins off onto the lawn so I wouldn't track it in on my shoes.  Ick.


I spent a good hour trying to remember how to upload a document to an iPad app called Upad which lets me write on it to make corrections, etc.  I wanted to put the 39 page Writers' Institute schedule on there so I can scroll through marking the speakers I want to hear and the other things I don't want to miss, plus not miss the stuff I paid to be at.  The doc was in Word which wouldn't upload no matter where I put it.  I finally converted it to a pdf and, whoosh, it went right over there.



By then I was so frustrated by it that I closed the iPad and went to start watching The Crown (it's good, I like it) on Netflix while knitting on my sock.  The yarn is skinny and the needles are too so it takes a while to make progress but I love watching the self-patterning yarn make stripes and little dots so I keep knitting.


And that was my day.  I finished the Egg Drop soup for lunch and the BBQ Chicken & Cauliflower Grits for supper so I'll need to plan another Investment Cooking weekend coming up soon.  Hmm, more of that BBQ Chicken stuff and some curried chickpeas, I love those... what else?... how about that chicken and brown rice casserole in the crockpot... yeah, that's good. Time to start a list.

31 March--Tropical Obsession.

Santiago moved with speed and grace from his boat, the Santa Marta, moored as close to shore as was safe. He slid over the gunwale into the water, his feet in their gray canvas shoes barely making a splash. He eased away from the boat sliding his feet along so he wouldn't churn up the water and leave a telltale line of white behind him. He carried an old burlap sack that had begun its life full of coffee beans destined for the lucrative American market and had been reduced to carrying ganja along the Jamaican coast for a while. Now it held a few ballast stones and a clump of what might be Spanish silver pieces of eight welded together by a couple centuries immersion in the sea. He tucked the bag into a corner of the fourth slave hut from the south end of the row. It would look enough like run-of-the-mill trash that the casual observer wouldn't notice it and it should be safe until Manning retrieved it to prove to Mr. Moneybags, Jack Swallow, that he, Santiago, really had found something valuable. The sun was just tinting the eastern horizon with the thinnest pale gold line as Santiago re-boarded the Santa Marta and resumed his journey to the Town Pier with his official cargo of pineapples and potted palm plants for the weekly market.

Tomorrow's the St. Agnes Class of '65 lunch (oh boy, cheeseburgers) and then I have a 3:30 date with my trainer.  That's why I slacked off today.  I know she'll work me hard and sweaty tomorrow so I gave my legs a rest today.  I'm nice like that.  Happy April Fool's Day!
--Barbara