Saturday was pretty neat:
After walking Kimball, I went directly to WinCo for veggies and shrimp. Because I eat almost everything fresh, I go to the supermarket a lot, but that's fine by me.
Suzanne rang my bell to say she had called the artist place where we planned to go and their lecturer couldn't make it, so the talk was cancelled. She suggested we go to Camarillo, instead, and she asked me to choose whether to tour the Adolfo (an early settler) house or the small museum. I was fine with either, but chose the museum, as I was at the house a few years ago while I was visiting. Jumped in the shower and dressed--luckily, it wasn't quite as hot as it had been--and we drove the short distance to Camarillo.
This is a thoroughly upscale area and its busy main drag is nicely configured with adobe buildings and so on. We had lunch at a place called "2088" (the street number) and ate outside, which I greatly enjoy. I was able to order off the Happy Hour menu, which meant the Chardonnay was only five bucks and I got a small Caesar salad with it, so I didn't horribly sabotage my diet.
Suzanne and I talked and talked and talked; in fact, we talked all day long and really got to know each other. She is nothing--nothing!--like the nuns I grew up with, let alone the Sisters of Mercy I knew at Holy Spirit. Boy, did we confide in each other and was I surprised, but also gratified and relaxed. She seems not terribly different from infidel me, rather than like my daily communicant twin sister, that's a cinch.
Anyway, we went to a charming little historic museum and learned a lot about Camarillo. Suzanne actually works at St. John's Hospital there and in Oxnard (it was founded and is run by her order) as a counselor. We chatted with the guy there who was the Director of City Planning for Ventura itself. Suzanne also took me to the garden at St. John's, a lovely place, as well as here and there to minor attractions.
We got home about 4:00 and I immediately changed and drove to town so I could add my mile. It was jammed, as ever on a weekend, and I greatly enjoyed it. I sat on a bench to tie my shoe lace and fell in to conversation with two elderly women and a man. I doubt if they were one of the sad homeless, as they had no baggage, but they were a little odd. One of the women kept speculating that I was from English or Scotland "because of your accent" and the other was surprised to hear New Jersey "has an ocean, too." It was fun to talk to them, but off I went back to my car, stopping at Ralph's for swordfish (nobody else carries it around here), then home to my little place.