progress report

Our yard? A mud-soaked misery, and I think that's wonderful, at least until the dog has to have her last potty trip of the day out there. Keith (the landscaper) seems to be having a blast. And we're not paying him by the hour, so it's all good. The walkways are coming along, and the stone from Penny Creek quarry is really beautiful. The rock photos don't show it, but there are lots of blues and reds in stone from that place. The stone in the walkways is larger than we're used to, and it's a pleasure to walk on. We're having an ongoing discussion about how to border the walkway at the lawn in back, and some differences of opinion, but I am paying him for his opinion, so I should at least listen to it. Right? Seriously, he has a strong sense of design. And I like that.

I suppose I should be getting around to writing about our little vacation, but we're just about to take off on another one, so don't get your hopes up. I will say that the two weeks worth of fiddle practice I did this past Tuesday afternoon just about wrecked the muscles around my ribs on the left side, already compromised by radiation and an old repetitive-strain injury. And though this is not the reason that my fiddling sucks, I'm going to say it is anyway. The neighborhood dogs are howling, people. It's not good. But it's still a lot of fun. I probably mentioned that the teacher is blind, and I'm beginning to suspect he's partly deaf.

I'm cooking a fancy-schmancy Daube Provençal for dinner tomorrow night. Try to get here about 4:00 if you want some. And don't forget to set your clocks back tonight. I don't want you arriving too early.