For 18 months, or so it seemed, the wedding was out there in the future. The future is now and my to-do-list is burgeoning with tasks I cannot avoid and hope they will disappear... my usual modus operandi and one which has stood me in good stead lo these sixty years.
On the other hand, without cutlery and napkins this could be a messy affair.
We've had a wet monsoon this year and the ground is no longer rejecting the water; it's soft enough to allow absorption instead of creating run-off. If I could wield a shovel and a rake and bend down to scoop with my trowel and a pail I'd be redirecting the streams to the white lantana in the front and the citrus trees in the back. But I can't so I won't and there will be no pictures of my activity to enliven this post.
There are times when the residue of getting shot really sucks.
On the other hand, GRIN's Pilates at Amphi Middle School starts on September 5th with the girls' sports conditioning class. How rare to find an administration which embraces the extraordinary and sticks with it until the job gets done. We are a disparate group of individuals united with a single purpose and we spend a good deal of time complimenting one another.
"No, it's because you...." "Only because you...." "Had you not...." "Without your...." Sometimes it's hard to remember who is talking about whom.
The road construction project on the main thoroughfares surrounding our neighborhood is a stagnant source of irritation and dirt. Sections are tended randomly; residents are tantalized with the hope that their little slice of heaven might be finished. But then, the crews move on... no one knows where... and our piece of the project remains, unsightly, unloved, unimproved.
I wouldn't mind so much if it even kinda sorta looked like they were anywhere near being finished.
TBG was watching Grand Prix this afternoon as I puttered and paid attention in snippets enough to know who was married and cheating or married and lusting or young and reckless or old and burned out. There was no reason to follow the plot; in 1966 the outcome was obvious. The cheater died, the girlfriend cried, the wife snarled, the wayward in her heart but not body wife returned and was loved.
Those were the days......
The Happy Ladies Club is going to the movies tomorrow afternoon and even though I know the chances of a crazed gunman opening fire when Meryl Streep is on the screen are fairly remote, Aurora is still close enough to keep me at home.
As I said, the residue from getting shot is unpleasant.......
A late addition: be sure to check out Jane Goodwin's post by clicking here or on the sidebar link. Hands Off My Pencils says it brilliantly, as Mamacita always does.