OK, first of all I never get to spend that amount of time with BestFriend, and we did, and it was just wonderful from beginning to end. She drove us up to Chef Point Cafe [yes, this was my third consecutive Saturday, and our waitress from when I was there last week with Trainman remembered me and asked, “Where is he?”], where BestFriend had something with chicken and linguine and a sauce that looked suspiciously similar to what got poured over my incredibly delicious Hot Brown last week, and I had the Monte Cristo. Or rather, I had half of my Monte Cristo, and all of the french fries because they were almost obscenely delicious, and the half of the half of my Monte Cristo for breakfast yesterday and the rest for lunch after church; not quite as crisp as Saturday but every bit as tasty.
And then we went to both Half Price Books to see if she could score extra copies of “A Tale of Two Cities” for the academic decathlon at her school later this year, and from there to the bead store, where three vials followed me home because I could not find another vial of the green mixed beads that I bought last time, nor could I find one containing only the iridescent beads I wanted to use for the 18 buttons on Cuprit’s sweater.
I tried to take pictures but only got pretty, shiny blurs.
And then we nipped over to Secondborn’s house to meet my Bittiest grandchild. He was sleeping. With permission, I scooped him up and talked nonsense to him. This is one seriously mellow child! We passed him back and forth for quite awhile, with nary a peep. He only thought about muttering something as I was tucking him back in bed, but I sang him a few bars of foolishness, and he grinned just a little and zonked back out.
This is a link to one of Larry Barkdull’s articles on Meridian. He expresses so well what I have been trying to say over the last few weeks, about stuff and stewardship and “camels vs. the eye of a needle”, etc.
OK, time to put on my shoes and grab my bumbershoot and swim out to the car. I think it rained all night. I wonder if my planters runneth over?
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!