saddle

Rosie and I are riding again. I had to go to campus to pick up exams – Rosie delivered me there and back without incident. True, I have taken to avoiding most every bit of traffic. And keeping a safe distance in front and in back. And slowing down for each intersection. And watching for possible cars going the wrong way. It’s awfully tiring.

Every road imperfection is, of course, a shot of pain to the ribs. The way to avoid being jostled is to elevate yourself a bit over the bumps. Which I do. Like in horseback riding, when you’re trotting.

The wind was severe and fifty degrees felt more like thirty degrees. You’d think I’d put it all away for the next six months. That I’d go back to the last of the red hot lovers (aka the Ford) where, at the very least, it’s warm. No. Can’t wimp out. Can't feel fragile.


In other news, let me report on some progress on farmhouse painting. Now, if I limit my farmhouse photography to just the entrance, then it looks almost fine. All pale yellow, with white trim. Just imagine the rest as being of the same tones. That’s all you can do for now: imagine.





I’m off to Chicago tonight for dinner with younger daughter. It’s so nice of her to live within a bus ride so that I can have an occasional meal with her. So very nice.