|Laundry Brook is closed today|
Today has been a good day. We drove up to the mountains yesterday and did a little shopping (shoes for Marty, a cheap floor fan, and some odds and ends in Wal-mart). We stopped to see Harry at the Club and dropped off running shorts and trail mix. We arrived at the house around 1 pm and drove to the Welsh Cabin for lunch. The restaurant doesn't open, however, until 3 so we went into town for pizza. I overate and was too bilious to go to yoga
Dinner was delicious: turkey parts roasted on the grill, brown basmati rice and green beans. I made a mock gravy from chicken broth, wine and spices. The only drippings we managed to corral were when we let the turkey rest and started slicing the breast.
I tried to watch the opening ceremonies of the London Olympics. I came in at the part with milkmaids and chimney sweeps. Something like that. I enjoyed the British music spanning 40 years from the '70s to now. I think they left out Pink Floyd but can't be sure. The British humour didn't leave me gasping and hooting, but it was funny, especially Mr. Bean playing the piano. The parade of nations was a low-light in my book. The countries I wanted to see were rushed through at the end of a commercial break. It appealed to me more as a geography lesson than anything else. I think I went to bed after Iceland.
A wet rag has been squeezing itself over us all day. We were outside reading for a while. When I got ready to walk to yoga, wearing sunglasses and a hat, the rag twisted a skoch (a wee amount) and Marty drove me there. The walk home was hot and sunny. Yoga was so wonderful, I felt like I'd just said good morning and there I was saying namaste.
After lunch I went to my 1 o'clock massage. Lucette forgot about me so I went to the market and came home. She called and apologized. I'd felt really good so a massage, though always nice, was not needed. I can't usually say that.
It's still spritzing outside. We're having BBQ'd ribs, corn and Caesar salad for dinner. The brook is swollen, the color of cream of rust soup topped with curls of creme fraiche. Gag me.