Six Degrees

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The smoke smell is unique.

Himself: Swam, job hunted, job services company meeting, sanded on boxes, and all the usual suspects. Herself: Swam, wrote, meeting where she saw MB in passing, read…oh, the joy of reading, sorted fabrics for the next quilt, readied papers for the next class, Sally’s Army where G found a stuffed hen that she missed after she had given the old one to Lessa, dinner, and a truly leisurely evening. Bed early. Reading: Peter Bowen’s Montana mystery series. I discovered that I don’t have them all. Balance: Peter Bowen.

It’s a joy to have the leisure to just live. I know G feels pressured and is struggling, but I, the retired-last-year person, feel freed with a certain level of following guilt. Is that like following seas?

Slowly I process some of the pictures we took when out on the CALIFORNIAN. I, the artist, find that G, the computer person, took many shots that were better than mine. I’m chagrinned.



I had fun photoshopping G, tho left my wrinkles….I worked hard for those, and did nothing to the visage of the nice man we met on board….another computer person working for the competition to G’s last company.



Sometimes I have to agree that there are only sic degrees of separation between each of us.