Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Here And There

Prepared my apples for applesauce in the morning, put it in the slow cooker and left for WinCo. I was out of what are basics for me, that is, salad fixings, cottage cheese, and oranges. I stopped first at the office to see if Patti had uncovered the source of my leak last week, but she was off. I'll get back to her this morning.
When I got back from the store, I found I had forgotten to turn on the slow cooker--damn! However, I did, had lunch, then drove to town.
As I do often, I parked in free parking and made the rounds of the thrift stores. In one, I saw two wooden chairs that would go nicely in my eating area (I have only four now). They were $24 apiece, but I negotiated them down to $30 for both. Not sure if I should get them or not, but might go back.
I also saw an attractive outdoor table with pseudo-stained glass top. Considered it, but it's partly plastic and I decided against it. I don't really need anything else on my small patio, anyway.
Walked up (literally; Main Street in on a slant) to the library and looked over a few things. Sat for awhile reading 100 Years of the Best American Short Stories, a thick, heavy book. I realized I forgot to bring my library card, so walked the half mile or so back to the car (downhill this time) and drove back to get it. Had a very light early dinner--spinach and salad--then showered and changed for the widder dinner, taking my Honey Belle tangerines with me.
"Soaring Spirits" was lightly attended, with only seven of us this time. I ordered my Chardonnay and--because I was a little earlier than I like to be--had another while I ate my tangerines. I was surprised to hear that Chuck and Pam have sold their home and are moving to Arizona. They bought five acres there, but what they'll do with it, I can't imagine. Donna and I talked quietly together--her Dad, Joe, whom I know from The Townehouse, just turned 92. Looking at Donna, it's hard to believe, but she's 59; she's public information officer for Ventura County.
El had left a message, I called her back, and we chatted for a time. She said the house never looked so clean for the photographer, who came yesterday. Maybe, maybe, maybe, Ojai, here she comes!

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