A fine, good day, albeit colder than a well-digger's ass in the Klondike, as my late husband used to intone. Windy, too.
Left for Produce Junction about 10:00 after seeing my darling little girls, and Daddy and Mommy in Singapore. Bought myself some pretty flowers, including mums, petunias, Gerber daisies, and a lovely Arthurian(?) for inside. Also picked up broccoli, sweet potatoes, and onions.
Met Betty for lunch at The Spot, near Product Junction, and had a fun time. I told her about the call from our dear niece, and she was happy for me. Said goodbye after a leisurely one and sped home.
Had a message from Chris, saying she would, indeed, meet me at Barnegat High School on Sunday to see our fictional nephew, Neil G., in Gypsy; called her back to confirm.
Called Dee G., owner of my childhood home, to discuss her new plan to sell. She was delighted to hear from me and I promised to stop in to see her on Thursday after the FELS luncheon in Somers Point.
Assembled dinner for my friend and me: swordfish cooked in coconut oil, which I was using for the first time; lemon quarters to squeeze on it; sweet potatoes, to which I added sliced oranges and cinnamon; broccoli and sliced tomatoes. All in all, pretty good.
Friend arrived about 5:45, practically frozen by some kind of outdoor "charity walk" at the school where she works. We ate, she changed to get ready for her hike, and rushed off.
I had no sooner cleaned up the kitchen then bouncing baby boy from Japan called on Skype. He ate his breakfast (tofu and some kind of greens) while I interacted with him, then I had the privilege of seeing him play with various objects, including a train brochure, toy cars, and a big sketch book.
Lovely, lovely, lovely be able to see and talk to all my darlings in Asia!
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MONDAY
Busy day. Washed and changed the sheets, showered and washed my hair, then assembled my list of things to do. I called Green Carpet Co. and...
3 comments:
"Colder than a well-digger's ass in January" was my late father's version. He was also given to occasionally describing someone as being "busier than a one-armed paperhanger."
I miss him sometimes.
You're lucky if you knew your father when you were an adult, Jim. Mine, a civil engineer, was killed when I was only 13, a traumatic event that left a lasting mark on the family and the town where we lived.
You're right -- I am fortunate. I'm sorry you lost your dad at so early an age.
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