Third misfire, in terms of a fitful sleep. I can no longer recall why. There were no violent storms, no discussions on economics. Even Isie was his more charming self, preferring to spend the morning hours downstairs. (It helped that the window was closed and so he didn't hear Oreo sound off.) Somehow we all moved at times and in ways that disturbed sleep for the other. It happens.
And so, as I get up to let the cheepers out, I feel a drag to my pace. I go with the greatest reluctance and only my desire to let Ed sleep pushes me out without a grumble (he's been working too hard on his machining project every night this week). And when I step out, I think -- why so muggy still? Aren't we supposed to cool down already?
The storm clouds are almost gone, but their exit does nothing for the humidity.
After breakfast...
... as Ed and I proceed to go our separate ways to do our usual Friday stuff, Ed calls me from the garage where he keeps his motorbike.
Look here... he says, pointing to the wheelbarrow where we throw weeds for the compost pile.
Oh my goodness! One of the white hens is laying outside the roost! What is she thinking?? It's the first time I've caught them dropping an egg elsewhere, though of course, there may be hidden eggs that I don't know of. Between this and Scotch's irregular laying issues, I'm wondering -- is it time to lay sprigs of lavender again in their nesting boxes? (My lavender is having a robust second bloom right now.)
I do my usual grocery run for the week. I am a tad more tired, true, but I enjoy stocking up on food. It's exciting (for me) to think about the meals I'll be preparing. I'm one of those few who thinks a walk through the produce section of a grocery store is something to look forward to.
Still, the expedition has its off moment: I had a credit slip and as I hand it to the store clerk and he tries to plug it in for the discount, it doesn't work. Off I go to customer service. It doesn't work there either.
But you owe me $11 from a return of a stale product!
It tells us you used it already.
But I didn't use it! I just got it last week! And so on.
Forty-five minutes later, to profuse apologies, the matter is resolved. I am happy I don't have ice cream in my cart.
As I pull up to my final store stop, I pass a man selling StreetWise (a newspaper by and for the homeless). My daughter's never faltering work on behalf of the homeless has taught me to never pass StreetWise people without throwing something into the donation box.
In a polite and appreciative moment, the guy asks me -- are you having a good day?
I say -- it's just a little off.
He frowns, obviously not used hearing a somewhat qualified response (you say no, you say yes -- but it's not the norm to aim for accuracy). Well I hope it improves...
No, really, it's not that bad, not bad at all!
I feel foolish. Because in fact, on balance, I think it's a wonderful, happy, delightful day. With just these slightly off details that add texture!
In the late afternoon, Ed and I go to our local cinema which, finally, today, begins showing Woody Allen's Magic in the Moonlight. I've long since given up on expecting a delicious satisfaction from seeing his new films, but I am always excited when one comes out and have a sense of great familiarity and continuity when I do go and see it. My adult life, which trails his adult life by eighteen years, has been marked by my watching his films (and I've seen more of his films than any other movie director's work) and somehow, like a day that may be a little off, his movies, too, can be a little off and yet on balance, they'll leave me happy.
We go to the first show: 3:50. We are the only ones in the entire theater.
When we leave, the weather has cooled considerably. I wipe rain drops off the seat of Ed's motorbike, and a vestige of a tear from my face. How can I possibly explain how much I adored this film? You'd think that the whole experience of watching it in an empty theater would be especially offputting. How can you possibly laugh alone?
Oh, but I did laugh! Toward the end, I laughed at things that surely anyone would not find terrifically funny. Critics said: For all its visual delights, Magic in the Moonlight, the 44th feature written and directed by the admirably industrious Woody Allen, has to be one of his bigger duds (Philadelphia Inquirer). And: Can we all stop making excuses for Woody Allen now (Slate)? Well yes, but movie viewing is a personal thing. I surely understand why this film splits critics exactly down the middle. Me, I listen to the dialogue and I think -- this is a conversation with Ed! And I laugh very loudly and Ed looks at me and grins and says -- I'm glad you're having such a good time.
I huddle behind him on the motorbike as we ride home. It's really cool now. Even as at the farmette, a few of the daylilies -- those quintessentially warm weather flowers -- have sprung small blooms. A little off schedule, a little out of the ordinary, a little beautiful.
And so, as I get up to let the cheepers out, I feel a drag to my pace. I go with the greatest reluctance and only my desire to let Ed sleep pushes me out without a grumble (he's been working too hard on his machining project every night this week). And when I step out, I think -- why so muggy still? Aren't we supposed to cool down already?
The storm clouds are almost gone, but their exit does nothing for the humidity.
After breakfast...
... as Ed and I proceed to go our separate ways to do our usual Friday stuff, Ed calls me from the garage where he keeps his motorbike.
Look here... he says, pointing to the wheelbarrow where we throw weeds for the compost pile.
Oh my goodness! One of the white hens is laying outside the roost! What is she thinking?? It's the first time I've caught them dropping an egg elsewhere, though of course, there may be hidden eggs that I don't know of. Between this and Scotch's irregular laying issues, I'm wondering -- is it time to lay sprigs of lavender again in their nesting boxes? (My lavender is having a robust second bloom right now.)
I do my usual grocery run for the week. I am a tad more tired, true, but I enjoy stocking up on food. It's exciting (for me) to think about the meals I'll be preparing. I'm one of those few who thinks a walk through the produce section of a grocery store is something to look forward to.
Still, the expedition has its off moment: I had a credit slip and as I hand it to the store clerk and he tries to plug it in for the discount, it doesn't work. Off I go to customer service. It doesn't work there either.
But you owe me $11 from a return of a stale product!
It tells us you used it already.
But I didn't use it! I just got it last week! And so on.
Forty-five minutes later, to profuse apologies, the matter is resolved. I am happy I don't have ice cream in my cart.
As I pull up to my final store stop, I pass a man selling StreetWise (a newspaper by and for the homeless). My daughter's never faltering work on behalf of the homeless has taught me to never pass StreetWise people without throwing something into the donation box.
In a polite and appreciative moment, the guy asks me -- are you having a good day?
I say -- it's just a little off.
He frowns, obviously not used hearing a somewhat qualified response (you say no, you say yes -- but it's not the norm to aim for accuracy). Well I hope it improves...
No, really, it's not that bad, not bad at all!
I feel foolish. Because in fact, on balance, I think it's a wonderful, happy, delightful day. With just these slightly off details that add texture!
In the late afternoon, Ed and I go to our local cinema which, finally, today, begins showing Woody Allen's Magic in the Moonlight. I've long since given up on expecting a delicious satisfaction from seeing his new films, but I am always excited when one comes out and have a sense of great familiarity and continuity when I do go and see it. My adult life, which trails his adult life by eighteen years, has been marked by my watching his films (and I've seen more of his films than any other movie director's work) and somehow, like a day that may be a little off, his movies, too, can be a little off and yet on balance, they'll leave me happy.
We go to the first show: 3:50. We are the only ones in the entire theater.
When we leave, the weather has cooled considerably. I wipe rain drops off the seat of Ed's motorbike, and a vestige of a tear from my face. How can I possibly explain how much I adored this film? You'd think that the whole experience of watching it in an empty theater would be especially offputting. How can you possibly laugh alone?
Oh, but I did laugh! Toward the end, I laughed at things that surely anyone would not find terrifically funny. Critics said: For all its visual delights, Magic in the Moonlight, the 44th feature written and directed by the admirably industrious Woody Allen, has to be one of his bigger duds (Philadelphia Inquirer). And: Can we all stop making excuses for Woody Allen now (Slate)? Well yes, but movie viewing is a personal thing. I surely understand why this film splits critics exactly down the middle. Me, I listen to the dialogue and I think -- this is a conversation with Ed! And I laugh very loudly and Ed looks at me and grins and says -- I'm glad you're having such a good time.
I huddle behind him on the motorbike as we ride home. It's really cool now. Even as at the farmette, a few of the daylilies -- those quintessentially warm weather flowers -- have sprung small blooms. A little off schedule, a little out of the ordinary, a little beautiful.
