Today's Toss

The toss today is the camping dishes.  Like the camping silverware, I don't know why I've hung onto these for so long without a hope of using them.  My sole excuse is that I really like the way they look and feel, always did, so I hung onto them.  It's that simple.  And instead of a box, I tucked the lot into the old aluminum corn pot that doesn't get used anymore since I cook one ear at a time (in the microwave), not a dozen (in boiling water) like in the olden days.

We had a thunderstorm today at lunchtime and as soon as the rain had passed these two birds hopped into the birdbath for a splash.  I was surprised to see a robin and a house finch bathing together.  Usually only one species bathes at a time.  There was a lot of enthusiastic splashing from both of them.



I cast on June Preemie Hat #3 and got through the first section when I decided to weigh the yarn.  Well.  Once again it was exactly the amount of yarn I'd need for the hat with no extra for "just in case."  And I have no more of this yarn to tie a bit of salvation onto the end like the last one, so I ripped it out (sigh), went down a needle size, and cast on a smaller hat.  I must be pulling my stitches tight because I'm working hard to get the needle into the stitches.  I gotta loosen up.

29 June--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession. 

Mona glared at the buildings on either side of the street as she followed the honey-voiced policeman into the island's government center. Like nothing she had ever seen at home, even on TV and not that she had all that much experience in police stations, but even in her extreme distraction trying not to believe Detective Inspector Rooibos that Jack was drowned, some part of her recognized the comic opera aspect to her surroundings. There were wide yellow lines painted or taped three feet back from every reception window, there were signs admonishing people to have their forms notarized in triplicate, and there were posters with lists of safety suggestions and silly scenarios about how to avoid being a victim of crime. She thought that the elaborate colonial architecture and bright tropical colors of paint used both inside and out where the perfect setting for the surreal situation she found herself in.

When she got back from the police station it was nearly dark, but Mona didn't turn on any lights as she walked through the villa. She, or someone, had turned off the lamps when the Detective Inspector courteously escorted her out to his police car. He had held her arm as if she were an invalid or as if he thought she might collapse with emotion. He had lost some of his sympathetic tone once they were settled in his brightly lit office downtown, and it had taken what seemed like hours to convince him (if she had) that Jack hadn't told her where he was going or who he planned to meet.

It had been necessary for her to baldly admit that she had been kept by Jack for years. That she was his arm candy, his sexual plaything, his brainless admiring mirror who reflected back his egotistical preening, cleaned up and polished as flattery. The naked truth of the situation she found herself in sickened her.

She sat long into the night outside on the patio with the clattering of the palm fronds overhead sounding like gossip and the dives of the Ganshi, the Brown Pelicans, feeding on a school of grunts coming regularly like the rhythmic shelling of enemy artillery.

I know I didn't mention it but last week I got a cashier's check wrapped in scrap paper without a note in the mail from a stranger.  I sat and looked at it for a day then went online to google "cashier's check scam" and there is one.  I even called the police to ask about it and was advised to shred it, so I did.  Today I got a text from AJ, my brother, asking if I'd gotten the check for the Packer game tickets that he'd sold for me.  Oops.  Talk about embarrassing.  I'm sure it'll get straightened out but my face is red.  AJ was highly amused at my goof.  Brothers are like that.
--Barbara