The Sun Shone

For a few hours anyway.  Not all day.  Of course, not all day.  We don't have all day sunny days anymore around here.  I have one word for that--GAH!  I find I turn on all of the full-spectrum lamps in the house (3) in the morning and turn them off when I head in here to blog and hit the sack.  It helps but it's not Old Sol out there shining his Vitamin D down upon our heads.  I did text my friend KW and we met at the Y this evening to pool walk.  I didn't meet T the Trainer today; he texted at 7 this morning that he had a sick little guy and had to cancel.  Good, keep germs at home please.  Watch, he'll be sick next week and I'll catch it and be sick in Lexington.  Nope, going for a flu shot tomorrow.



These two bluejays came to gorge on the fallen cracked corn in the grass.  The one on the right must be a this year's hatchling because it tried fluttering its wings to get the other one to feed it.  Didn't work but it tried.  I love their coloring, even though I'm not really a "blue" fan.



This morning I whipped up a double batch of Cocoa Almond Smoothie Bowls for the freezer.  It's a WW recipe with bananas, frozen dark cherries, almond milk, ice cubes, a little honey, peanut butter powder, cocoa powder all whizzed in the blender and then frozen in 1 cup servings (half of WW's serving size; it makes a lot).  It's yummy.  And only 3 WW Freestyle points.  I'm working to haul myself back onto the straight-er and narrow-er, figuring if I eat better I'll feel less depressed.  So far it's not working so well (it's only been two days) but I'm not giving up.

 


Most of today was a couch-potato day.  I finished knitting this cast sock for charity.  Look at how the color pooled on one side.  That is one bright yellow blotch.  I figure a kid will like it.

24 October--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire. 

Rumors flew that Dimitri had been an agent with the KGB posted in England and had tried to “turn” George, or vice versa.  That George had had an illicit affair with Irina, or Sonia had, and it had ended badly.  Conversely, some thought that George had been a double agent and Dimitri knew it and was blackmailing him.  Then there were those who said Sonia was a spy in deep cover, she didn’t really love George, and was in love with Dimitri.  Most of those who thought that were women--women who had the hots for George.

To all appearances, Sonia and George were one of the happiest couples on the island.  They could be seen nearly every day donning their scuba gear and plunging into the sea to explore the teeming reefs.  Sonia took digital pictures that she manipulated on her computer making them look like impressionist paintings.  Her works sold well in galleries on the island and she developed quite a following among tourists.  George was popular among the male expats.  It was said that George was a fair golfer, a terrible fisherman, and a genial loser at poker.

Equal parts of disappointment and anger mixed in Dimitri’s heart.  He was disappointed that he and Irina seemed to be the butt of jokes by people they supposed were their friends and anger that Billie Holland-Smythe could be so stupid.  How could she be certain that neither he nor Major Clemment wouldn’t pull out a pistol or poison-shooting pen and dispatch the other?  It took all his self-control earlier not to slap the smug self-satisfied smile off Billie’s face as she dragged the Clemments to meet him and Irina.  His next impulse was to turn and flee but that would have just added fuel to the fire that stupid woman had ignited.  It would have been bad enough for them to meet by accident in the market or on the beach but to be made a spectacle of by that meddling woman was the worst.

Dimitri was just enough older than Major Clemment that he had weathered the worst of the Cold War years when no one could be trusted and men were losing their lives over much less. He had only lately been able to relax his vigilance and begin to decompress from his years of keeping Mother Russia’s secrets.  He wondered if he had realized when he entered the intelligence service all those years ago that he had chosen a profession that he would never be able to retire from.

Dimitri lay awake staring at the gecko pacing the borders of the bedroom ceiling stalking the unlucky moths that blundered in.  He played over and over the brightly lit ballroom, the band playing a jazzy tune, a few couples dancing but most standing in small groups sipping champagne cocktails and chatting.  Standing in the doorway making their usual entrance, Irina looked like an Art Deco statue and he did his best to preserve his standard icy demeanor after Major Clemment’s gray eyes began boring into his.  Dimitri’s blood ran cold when he realized that Billie planned to make the four of them the entertainment, the gossip of the evening by forcing them to acknowledge each other so publicly.

He tossed and turned causing Irina to murmur in her sleep as he jostled her.  He slid out of bed carefully, pulled on his pajama bottoms, picked up his sandals, and went out onto the terrace off the kitchen.  His neighborhood was dark except for a porch light down the block.  It must be the middle of the night, he thought, but when he turned to look at the eastern sky he saw the black turning pale gray as the very beginnings of day crept over the horizon.  Dimitri stood staring out over the roofs toward the inky western sky, smoking one after the other of the harsh island cigarettes, and thinking how his comfortable retirement was about to change again when the phone rang.

I also took a surprise nap this afternoon.  Good thing I didn't drop any stitches.  Tomorrow I plan to go out and shovel the dirt back into the rat holes to see if there are any still out there.  I'm sure that the two I trapped weren't the only ones out there.  Filling in the holes might tell me what I want to know.  Wish me luck.
--Barbara