Thursday, May 30, 2013
I always lose track of time when I'm out in the garden, my fingers down in the soil pulling weeds out by their little roots, counting them sadistically, if not for the sun baking my back I'd be out there still.
Swimming in our pool has been a cold, cold experience so far, do you suppose Christ walked on water because the Sea of Galilee was so cold? I've come close to walking on the water in our pool a couple of times.
This is the year of poison ivy and centipedes, creepy things both of them, too many to count, too icky to touch.
The turtles from the lagoon follow Mac around as if they were imprinted on him, think Konrad Lorenz and his ducks. He calls them his armored division.
Once the temperatures hit the 80's my cat turns into a puddle of cat butter flowing down the sides of whatever she's laying on.
Playing the piano when you're not really in the mood is an act of impending frustration, my apologies to Beethoven for this mornings "deconstruction" of some of his Ecossaises.
Reading one of the Jane Whitefield novels always makes me very nervous, I'm constantly looking over my shoulder to see if anyone's following me, yet I keep on reading them.
I changed my aerobic workout music from music from Sense and Sensibility to Dire Straits and I really picked up the pace, the rolls of blubber were definitely moving to a different beat.