Silvercrest

It was so cold again that I skipped Kimball. Also, I was due at Diane's at 10 and since I was taking  the bus, I needed to start out about 8:30. All right, I could have gotten back by then, but I didn't.
Had breakfast, then started off. I decided to walk down Victoria to Telephone Road ( a mile and a half) because I wasn't sure I'd be able to walk in the afternoon. Did so and by the time I got to the bus stop, I was downright warm.
Got to Silvercrest by quarter of to find Diane waiting. Camille, the instructor, greeted me, I paid her for my last session and this one and asked if I could make an announcement about "Art Comes Alive." I could and I did.
The exercise session was good and fairly vigorous. I thought it was rude and out of line when Camille addressed a woman as "Mother" and a man as "Dad.'" I expressed disapproval to Diane; then she told me they actually were Camille's parents and were 91 and 93, respectively. They don't live there, but come in for the exercise, as I did.
After, Diane served me lunch of veggie burger (she doesn't eat meat) and apple walnut salad, along with--natch--white wine. We had a good time talking, then walked down to the shopping center a few blocks away so she could check out a dentist; a tooth of hers is loose. However, he doesn't take Medicare, so that was out.
We said goodbye and I got on the bus. I had intended to walk down Victoria Road again, but the second came as I arrived at the stop, so I took that, instead.
Home, I left my bag (scarf, gloves, etc.) and walked to Von's for coffee and salad dressing. Got home and called Ellen. I was glad to hear her neck was better after she went to a chiropractor. Greg has been with his mother in Santa Barbara since Monday, as her back is again bothering her. Diane texted me that her tooth has come out. Poor thing, I hope she can find a dentist.
I had intended to drive to the library in town and attend Poetry Open Mic, but I just didn't want to go out--and stay out--that late. I would like to recite my latest ("Cabin Fever") to an audience, but decided to go next Thursday instead. I'm getting to be a real stick-in-the-mud, as my mother used  to say.