This morning the day loomed before me, nicely empty. I got Jacob off to a soccer game by 7:45 and then piddled. Did go pick up my car and trade in the loaner that I didn't like. Then ran to Central Market, mostly to buy chocolate, and CVS pharmacy because I had a terrific discount card--bought a year's worth of allergy medicine! But I was home by just after ten, with the day all mine. I wrote 2600 words--please get used to this word count because it's going to appear every day, well at least on the days I feel good enough about it to report. Had a wonderful leftover piece of meatloaf for lunch plus cucumber slices splashed with red wine vinegar and sprinkled lightly with black pepper--try it sometime. Really refreshing.
Worked again in the afternoon, some writing, some reading of a heavy book I'm to review, paid a few bills, etc. And then a nice long nap, so nice that once again I lay in bed dozing until Jordan and Jacob barged into the bedroom, and Jacob demanded that I get up.
He and I had a lovely evening--went for dinner with good friend and surrogate daughter Sue Boggs and her kids--Alex, 15, and Hunter, 12. When they moved in next door to me, Hunter was in kindergarten and Alex in third grade. Now they've grown into real conversationalists and interesting people. They were patiently amused by chatterbox Jacob, who seemed to spin story after story out of his vivid imagination. I told him if he didn't say, "I don't like that" and had good table manners, I'd give him ice cream with chocolate sauce when we got home. True to form, after I poured chocolate sauce on his ice cream, he said, "I wanted vanilla." I left him eating--or not eating--the ice cream with chocolate.
An anonymous commenter on this blog--I know who it is--says he's getting irritated by my car and he only has to read about it. Well, tonight I'm irritated too. Jacob and I decided to put the top down (since it's just been fixed) on the way to dinner--but I couldn't get it unlatched. Sigh. Another trip to VW. I am indeed getting tired of this, but I like my bug so much bettr than the loaner Jetta. I'm sticking with it.
I've been joking about moving to Scotland if a certain candidate is elected president (anonymous: you know who I mean). Now I know I'm not adventuresome enough to do that, but sometimes the idea has appeal. Colin said today they would come visit and suggested I spend six months there and six months here. Could I afford that? And what about my dogs? But still I have this idyllic vision of living in a small town and taking my meals in a pub where I'd meet friendly people. I guess it will remain a pipe dream--or the stuff of a novel. I think I know the town--and the pub--of my choice.
Worked again in the afternoon, some writing, some reading of a heavy book I'm to review, paid a few bills, etc. And then a nice long nap, so nice that once again I lay in bed dozing until Jordan and Jacob barged into the bedroom, and Jacob demanded that I get up.
He and I had a lovely evening--went for dinner with good friend and surrogate daughter Sue Boggs and her kids--Alex, 15, and Hunter, 12. When they moved in next door to me, Hunter was in kindergarten and Alex in third grade. Now they've grown into real conversationalists and interesting people. They were patiently amused by chatterbox Jacob, who seemed to spin story after story out of his vivid imagination. I told him if he didn't say, "I don't like that" and had good table manners, I'd give him ice cream with chocolate sauce when we got home. True to form, after I poured chocolate sauce on his ice cream, he said, "I wanted vanilla." I left him eating--or not eating--the ice cream with chocolate.
An anonymous commenter on this blog--I know who it is--says he's getting irritated by my car and he only has to read about it. Well, tonight I'm irritated too. Jacob and I decided to put the top down (since it's just been fixed) on the way to dinner--but I couldn't get it unlatched. Sigh. Another trip to VW. I am indeed getting tired of this, but I like my bug so much bettr than the loaner Jetta. I'm sticking with it.
I've been joking about moving to Scotland if a certain candidate is elected president (anonymous: you know who I mean). Now I know I'm not adventuresome enough to do that, but sometimes the idea has appeal. Colin said today they would come visit and suggested I spend six months there and six months here. Could I afford that? And what about my dogs? But still I have this idyllic vision of living in a small town and taking my meals in a pub where I'd meet friendly people. I guess it will remain a pipe dream--or the stuff of a novel. I think I know the town--and the pub--of my choice.
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