(I love alliteration!)
One never knows when something interesting will turn up; see below.
Followed the usual Sunday routine, then did a few minor chores before I finally turned my attention to the "script" for my Dudley House tour guide stint.
I have a bad habit of procrastinating and I did it in spades this time. I hadn't conducted a tour for months, plus Lynn wanted me to add on the rest of the downstairs. I had only done the first three before: porch, dining room, parlor. This included, in addition, the front bedroom, the bathroom, the back bedroom, and the kitchen--all crammed with interesting artifacts and history.
However, it turned out okay. I had looked over what was written and whatever I didn't remember, I'd quickly read or even fabricate a bit. We actually had a lot of people come in; I think the final count was forty or a few more.
Lynn was her usual flibbertigibbet self. Gawd, she can be a pain in the ass, rushing around, gabbling wildly, and bossing people around. There were two other docents there whom I hadn't met before. Talk about long in the tooth--they both looked and acted old enough to be my mother. However, it was actually pretty enjoyable, as I had some good groups. It was well after closing time, which is 4:00 pm, when I left, but that was okay. I went home, changed, then took off for town.
I had every intention of doing my regular walk, but I noticed a crowd in front of the mission church, St. Bonaventure, and went over to investigate. They were looking at the beautiful new mural, just unveiled, in front of the church. The church door was open and I decided to go in and look at
the altar and so on. I like old churches a lot, as long as I don't have to pretend I think there's something supernatural about them.
But what was this? The side door opens onto a garden and there were people milling around in there. I went in to see what was going on and it was a reception, I suppose to mark the unveiling of the mural. Hey, crackers, cheese, and other nibbles on tables and a wine bar, besides. Could I resist? Certainly not and I helped myself to some appetizers, was served a glass of white, and sat happily under a tree watching the attendees.
This the kind of unexpected treat I so greatly enjoy: I was an interloper, but a benign one and I was harming no one. It seems to me life offers lots of these little favors; you just have to be open enough--and maybe bold enough--to pursue them.
I had forgotten Janie was Miss Longport of 1951. Here's her obit:
http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com/obituaries/jane-a-martin-nee-moylan/article_c379513b-b739-584b-8420-74f8c292dd52.html
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