BirdBrain dropped by around noon with an armful of goodies which included a spinach quiche, many mango mousses and this flower vase which she handed to me as my award for her favorite line of stories, The K-Mart Chronicles. The vase design reminded her of (and, quite frankly if the flowers were cars… .) the Hawaiian shirt I’d missed out on.

BirdBrain dropped by around noon with an armful of goodies which included a spinach quiche, many mango mousses and this flower vase which she handed to me as my award for her favorite line of stories, The K-Mart Chronicles. The vase design reminded her of (and, quite frankly if the flowers were cars… .) the Hawaiian shirt I’d missed out on.

Peter’s pics from yesterday.
 

 

While Diane rested her back, I drove to Halibut Point in search of color. As I walked on the granite chunks and tried not to slide into either the ocean or the tide pools, I talked to Peter in Indiana who was traipsing along the Ohio River in sunny sixty degree weather. He enjoyed color, I didn’t, so you’ll see I had to add some to this photo album. That’s Van Morrison in the background singing, “I’m Not Feeling It Anymore.” Here‘s our April visit when the waves were pounding and Diane provided her own color.

I keep scanning for photo ops as I drive back and forth to work , but I can’t see through this blanket of gray. Here are a couple from the Southbridge Boathouse in Concord. We need sun.

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A funny, maybe on point, letter to the editor in response to a New Yorker article about Clinton and Obama.

“Packer’s article demonstrates that there is no real basis of comparison between the two candidates. May I suggest that the reason for the essay’s lack of substance regarding Barack Obama’s ideas is that his campaign feels more like a pleasant horoscope than like a run for the Presidency? (The kind that anyone can read and think, Yes! I want change, too! It’s amazing how well he knows me.) Is there anything wrong with a candidate who has had her eye on the Presidency for more than a few years, and who values her private life? I’ll choose an ambitious woman of substance over a fortune cookie any day.”

Ursula Oberg

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The second bloom from an amaryllis at Ginger’s.

When my Indiana friend, Jeff, told me he and Karen were going to the Cork and Cleaver to celebrate their thirty-third wedding anniversary I asked him if they had reservations. He said, “Yes.”

Why did I ask? Because that makes it much easier to stealthily buy their dinner. I called the restaurant shortly after I guessed they’d arrived and told the manager, Matthew, that I wanted to pay for the Ruthenburg’s dinner. He went off somewhere, to look at the reservation list, I assumed, and came back and said, “You’re too late. James Ruthenburg has already picked up the tab. ”

I thought, DAMN, now what? Thwarted! I’ve never failed at this. “Alright” I said, “I’ll pay for their drinks. Jeff likes Makers on the rocks and give Karen another glass of whatever she’s having.” I pictured a hefty glass of merlot. Mad that I missed out on buying dinner, I started rattling off my Mastercard number when Matthew stopped me.

“No, no. I don’t want your credit card for two drinks.”

I thought he was telling me he wasn’t going to let me buy those drinks. That he wouldn’t put so small an amount on a credit card. That pissed me off even more, so I really didn’t catch his last line.

“Next time you’re nearby stop in and you can pay me in cash.”

“Okay,” I said in a huff, and hung up. Then I realized what he’d said.

Devendra Banhart