Already on the seat of the truck is a pair of newer black pants. I dumpt another desert on them. Face down, of course. A new, used, virulent pink pair of shoes needs to go to the shoe repair shop. A little elastic bit on one sling back is slung beyond usage.
“Hello, Darlink,” he will say while his wife glowers and his dogs snore.
Then to the cleaners where I have a good sized pile to pick up while dropping off the gloppy black pants.
Menus? What shall we have for dinner. It’s a nice beef stew sort of day. I can hear my vegetarian friends going, “Ewwwwwwwwwww.” Perhaps Judy Nicolaides pot roast. She always added a dollop of sour cream at the end that created melt in the mouth perfection.
The trip album is half done half halfheartedly. I’ve included the blog posts, and all the jpgs are on discs in the back. Who knows if anyone will ever look at its pages and its incomplete roster of prints. But it will get done today.
Bee and Mikey are off to Paris. She’s packing now. Dee is back from Prague where she will be teaching this year. G is out there checking out wrecks. The world seems to be traveling around me while I nest this grey day. Submitting three poems to the Writers Digest Annual contest is my big thing for the day. Even if I’m not traveling, my shoes, cleaning and poems are. That will do nicely.