This afternoon ACJ and I met at The Attic for a couple hours of chat and writing. She's had an adventurous week so there was a lot more chatting than writing but I managed to get my 15 minutes done. Started the scene where Rose goes to the bank and came up with what's in the safe deposit box. Hooray! I was puzzling over that so I'm glad that inspiration finally struck.
Last week at knitting guild some of us brought a stapled brown paper bag with a single skein of yarn and pattern in it. Those who brought a bag chose another one and have two months to knit whatever's in there for the December meeting. The bag I chose had three skeins of yarn (slight panic) but thank goodness I won't be knitting them all up, the pattern calls for three colors. I cast on today and got the ribbing done and a few rounds of the next color. I'm hoping to finish it long before the third Thursday in December.
I couldn't leave those bad pants in the trash. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't face the idea of tossing that nice fabric because I was an idiot so I rescued the pieces and brought them upstairs with the seam ripper. It took about 45 minutes to rip one seam. I'll do the other one tomorrow, then I can sew them together correctly and go from there.
Today I couldn't get the scanner on my printer to talk to the new laptop so I called Mr. Boss to make sure that the scanner at the dive shop was working. It was. So I picked up a couple sandwiches at Arby's and went down for lunch and scanning. Good thing too because tomorrow is his birthday and Mrs. Boss is off to the Red Sea on a dive trip. Happy birthday, Mr. Boss, have a Reuben.
23 October--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire.
In a few minutes the initial
tension had passed or been covered up.
Their bodies had relaxed a bit from the ramrod straight attitudes of
their meeting. Sonia still had her arm
linked with George’s but the British couple looked comfortable, like they were
holding a normal conversation with new friends.
The Russians looked like startled deer caught in the headlight of a
runaway train. An ugly snarl lifted the
corner of Dimitri’s mouth as I overheard George say, “I never expected to find
you on this desert island, old chap. I
had you pegged for something more tropical, like Fiji, where the native girls
are more, um, accommodating.” He aimed a
small bow at Irina. “Not, of course,
that your husband would ever…”
His voice trailed off at a not so
gentle pat from Sonia. “I’m sorry, Irina
is it?” A curt nod answered in the affirmative.
“Irina, I’m sure George was just joking about Dimitri here being
interested in other women. You know how
men get when they retire from the chase of business, a bit dotty as they say in
London.”
Irina’s knuckles whitened as she
took an even firmer grip on her husband’s arm.
“I am not familiar with that expression,” she said in a gravelly voice
quite unlike her normal dreamy tones.
“But if that means your husband is imagining he is familiar with mine,
he can not be. Before tonight I’m sure
Dimitri has never seen your George.”
A waiter carrying a tray of glasses
approached the quartet and offered drinks to them. The ladies each reached for a flute and
handed them to their respective husbands; the men’s eyes did not break their
glare into the others. Once all four of
them held glasses, George raised his in salute to the opposite couple. “To your health.” He and Sonia drank. Dimitri and Irina did not. George turned to his wife. “Come, dear, we should circulate.” As the British pair walked away, he turned
back to the Russians still frozen in place.
“I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon enough. We can discuss old times.”
The Roskovas didn’t stay long at
the party.
I was horrified to notice that the street is wet when I reached to close the shade. That means that it rained again. Not much and not hard because I didn't hear it but I am so over rain. Rain rain rain rain rain has been nearly constant for the last couple weeks. At least it feels that way. All this gray and dreary makes Barbara a sad and dull girl. I don't like it. I want sunshine.
--Barbara
2 comments:
That pants project looks complicated but I can understand your not wanting to trash them. Ripping for 45 minutes takes patience. But patience is a virtue and we need all that we can get! I think the Brits and the Ruskies are going to have some interesting encounters ahead. To be continued...
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