Well, the washer in the apartment complex is still out-of-order, so the laundromat it is once again. As I set my basket on one of the numerous large washing machines that crowd the laundromat, something catches my eye: a small sock imprinted with the word “LOVE” in big, bold, colorful letters, sitting on top of one of the washers. Its partner however is nowhere to be seen — perhaps it is hiding in one of the dryers. Whose tiny feet belong to this sock?
After I load the laundry and feed the machine with its various demands for detergent and quarters, I head across the street to get a free smoothie, for which I have a coupon. Smoothies to me, are like light to a moth.
After the washing machine finishes its duty I dump the laundry back in the basket, to take it to the apartment where it will hang outside on the clothesline for the sun to dry it.
It is one day after Earth Day: my son Christian picked a fine day to celebrate his birthday. I called him yesterday and we had a nice long talk. (Yes indeed — the astute reader has noticed — this post was supposed to appear in April — we are indeed a bit late). I received an interesting link from him via e-mail after our chat: a link to the music of the composer Holst, who I was not familiar with. Holst wrote music about some of the planets, but poor Pluto has been ignominiously ignored once again. My friend Gary was familiar with those compositions. Naturally — he is a musician. I much prefer Bach or Mozart though.
Making a rather abrupt transition from planets to food, I recently remembered that my mom used to prepare butter lettuce with lemon juice, when I saw some lettuce at the market. Since a few lemon are sitting on my kitchen table doing nothing, the plan for tonight is to replicate this recipe. My juicer however resides in a storage locker, so I decide to go and free it from its imprisonment and put it to good use.
Also on the dinner menu for tonight is baked whole chicken. Calvin my cat, as he likes to do, has snuck in the kitchen once again, and is observing my doings at the counter, I feel his presence, and turn around to see him looking at me. Good timing buddy. He is rewarded with the chicken livers. Bon appetit! You are lucky, I will have to wait another hour or so for my share of the chicken.
Have a quiet blessed Sunday.
My book “Sea Shells, C’est Gratuit”, is now also available as an eBook.
You can find it here at Amazon.com.
Thank you once again to Sleeping Cat Books (a business that has been fully approved by my cat Calvin, and who would also not be adverse to receiving promotional consideration for his endorsement in the form of a can of sardines or tuna), for doing such a fine job converting the book into an eBook.
Well, here I am, another year older. Six I am told. I wonder how many that is in human years. My caretaker was gone all day (“work” he said, and “go play outside” I was told in the morning, before I was rudely shoved out the door). About time he finally showed up this evening. Things started to look up from there though: first, I received a, in my opinion, rather well proportioned piece of sliced turkey. It was very palatable I must admit. However, (and here I must protest in no uncertain terms) I was forced to wear this ridiculous “birthday hat” once more for the amusement of my caretaker. I tried my best to take it off, but that proved to be to no avail. I did notice the candle and more importantly, the can of tuna fish below it though, much to my delight. I vaguely recall a similar looking can last year. Once again I had to listen to singing though, before said can was finally opened. Oh the things one puts up with.