We had lunch early so Grandma could take her nap. It rained the entire time we were at the table and then some. Amazing. Anyway, Grandma got a good nap, and then Diane came about one-thirty and did arm exercises with her. After she left we did some neatening up, and then the Rector came about three. I must confess to some enjoyment of having a rector visit, but he's something of a disappointment--he wouldn't even pet Lark, and when I told her to give up, he said it was fine, he'd just ignore her.........THIS MAN THINKS HE CAN IGNORE MY DOG??? Clearly he possesses a heart of stone.
Amazingly, the cool weather has held. Lark and I need to hurry up and take our walk, but I don't know how long the Rector will be here and she'll need help getting back up from the sitting-room. To top it off, I was getting the water-can for the palm down there when the doorbell rang, and if Grandma wants to see him in the sitting-room I'm not coming in with a watering-can.
Oh, help, he's interrogating Grandma about me. He's also the first person to have gotten my age right, drat him. >.> :s
And I just realized I left the dust-rag down there. Kill me now. I'm sorry, Grandma.
I don't think she noticed, though. I doubt he did, but it's the principle of the thing.
I got punched in the stomach by a Goldendoodle. We finally got out on our walk at about four-forty, the weather holding cool and cloudy, with occasional spatters of rain. I, for a wonder, calculated my clothing right, it being pleasantly cool with a sweater on. The air nibbled gently at my face, pretending it was about to bite through my clothes but never doing so. We took the short loop around the pond and back, Lark tearing off as if by unclipping her leash I had lit a fuse. I was wondering, as we neared the end of the trail, if we weren't going to meet [i]anyone[/i] (a waste of a Heller hike, as far as I'm concerned--I need at least one dog a day!) when I heard jingling. Hopefully collars, but maybe just a bike. Lark was off in the brush, and I wondered if I'd be able to keep her out of the way of whoever impended. I caught a glimpse through the branches that suggested someone on a bike, then came clear of the trees into the creek bed and saw the surge of dogs. He wasn't on a bike, he was just tall. I called Lark, hoping I could catch her collar, but as Lark decided she needed to investigate the man called, "It's okay, they're friendly!" Well, I should hope so if you're walking them off-leash, but I gave up and watched as two dogs lolloped forward: one enormous, one Lark's size but stockier, both covered in short curls the color of pale sand. It was about then that the big one got me a full-body hit with his nose. "Oof," I gasped. "Right in the stomach!" "Are you okay?" the man asked. I reassured him, Lark having trained me in the reflexive stomach tense, and we watched the dogs swirl about. "Are they Labradoodles?" "Goldendoodles." "They're cute!" Lark was rather hard-pressed by the pair, and I picked her up. They continued on their way, and I carried her until they were out of sight......making this the third day in a row. The other two days were on Stanton, though, and this is the first day we've been here that she made it home still high.
I had to fix dinner myself for once, never mind that it was a glorious parade of leftovers. I heard Father Paul asking Grandma if I could cook: why, yes, a little, but why cook when there's so much that needs eating up? So it was chicken and rice, set out to thaw before Lark and I went out; herb salad, which has gallantly sustained us through several meals and two rounds of sandwiches; watermelon chunks, which accompanied pork chops from the wonderful woman who gave us disposable dishes; reheated cornbread and a dinner roll; and Grandma had some blackberry (not blueberry--Grandma figured out what the stuff is) cobbler for dessert. I let Lark out during the sitting-while-Grandma-finishes-up period, and when I went to suggest she come in, the brat whirled away in a clear invitation to play. I did. Note: on a cool day, do not come back in under three hours or the dog won't stop. Wuuuuurrgh......
After dinner Grandma watched an English episode of Antiques Roadshow and I finished Cousin Kate. When it was over she had me get her into PJs and read two (admittedly short) chapters of The View From the Folding Chairs. That done I had to go look "bailiff" up in the dictionary, that being what Michala Miller is and neither of us knowing what it meant in her case. Having ascertained that she was someone who kept order in courtrooms, I was discovering that the dictionary didn't have "assinego" (Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, someone being rude, "An assinego may tutor thee," also quoted when Vincent is being rude about Claude teaching Hugo not to speak Yorkshire in The Unknown Ajax) when the phone rang. Doug was asking if there was anything more I needed in Care Package Mk. II, the first having been mailed already. It was nice talking. Heck, it's nice talking to anyone at home, or even typing. Even Philip razzing me is a nice brotherly pastime. *prays he'll miss this "detail".....unhappily doubts it* He hasn't been very bad, anyway.
Now for an hour or so pretending I'm going to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. Hey, maybe I will. Be nice, anyway.
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