Sparklers And Sunsets

Met nine of my fellow "Sparklers" at Smithville and had a congenial enough lunch. This group, however, is one of the reasons I keep looking westward.  Aside from Virginia and Lucille--and Josephine's okay--they tend to be epitomes of conventionality, which they proved yesterday.  To wit: the big topic of conversation was a couple who took a sick baby to sea or something.  Presumably, this was on television (or how the hell else would they hear about it?) and it elicited ever-so predictable comments.  They ranged from "and the baby was sick to begin with!" to "taxpayers had to pay for the rescue!" to the obligatory "people like that shouldn't have children!"  Obviously, this was the Indignation Indicator Du jour;  tomorrow, some other domestic outrage or celebrity divorce or threat from the foreign devils will be "discussed," with no context, no background, and no conclusions reached.   Oh, well, ho-hum, the food was good, anyway.    
Drove down to surprise Betty after and we had a nice chat.  She's debating whether to take the cramped, unfurnished apartment in Coffin Alley or a much more expensive, but more comfortable one on Harvard Avenue.  I don't understand why she can't find out how much the insurance company will pay to put her up while the house is worked on, but I'm not familiar with these things.
Stopped for a half hour to see Madge and Mary H. on my way home.  These sisters--eight years apart--have lived harmoniously for years, something that amazes me.
At loose ends after dinner, I drove down Green Street at sunset and took some pictures of the pink sky and water.  Talk about conventional--these pics must be duplicated practically every minute of every day by every camera owner within fifty miles of either coast.
So-o-o, I'm not such a free spirit and high-above-the-neanderthal-intellectual-horde after all, maybe.