No photographs today. And not a long post. I was supposed to go to the city to spend the night in advance of picking up M&J from their Nova Scotia cruise. I was on schedule and all, but finally decided that my vague sore throat was not improving and that perhaps I had finally learned to NOT PUSH IT when I was on the border of illness.
I did not go any further than the mailbox to put out the recycling and the trash.
I didn't do much than watch Season 3 of The Sopranos (not all of it, of course) and miss James Gandolfini. I continued my cleaning spree, listened to The Fellowship of the Ring (okay, I finally get why it is a great book and why the generally literate person needs to know it), finished (and am now wearing) a necklace I beaded, and had a great conversation with Louise about Monsterwood.
And now I am heading for bed and reading a book far out of style, This Rough Magic. The author, Mary Stewart, was a rather big deal in my childhood and the merit of her work was discussed on some email I received. Literate gothic potboiler! Who knew!!
Well, Emmylou gets her Albert tomorrow. And so to bed for me.