Well, I am my only follower. Only because I attempted to inform all of my yahoo connections that I had officially started a blog, but I'm not getting the blog thing quite yet; therefore, I only managed to invite myself. That probably means no one is reading my posts, but it is still here. A chronicle of our lives. After collecting gym essentials - sports bra, tank, shorts, socks, shoes and a hair tie, I was off for the morning. The gym is quiet at 6:40. At this early in the morning I don't see many oranged tans yellow straw haired, energy drinking muscle builders. This crowd wears old road race t-shirts with the sleeves cut off, lawn mowing shoes, and shorts from another era. So, there are a few that have it together with matching Reebok wear, but this is a group that is there for a different purpose. They want their heart to keep ticking so that they can take their grandchildren on vacation next summer, they want to dance with their partner at the weekend polka gig. They w
Showing posts from August, 2009
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The sweet smell of basil fills my nostrils only because I just picked a handful and some of it stuck under my nails. The children are asleep and George studies. It is a gentle day actually. We have a few. The fan hums above keeping it reasonably cool in the August heat. The gardens are showing signs of exhaustion, but they don't give up. Squash, peppers, tomatoes, beans, cucumbers, watermelon, basil, and okra. I'm afraid to try to make a casserole or add some exotic gourmet spice because the flavor is rich and full. We steam, fry, or saute it, make some pesto, pull out some bread or throw noodles in boiling water. We eat like kings. It is rich and succulent. We can't stand not to share it with our friends. Who wants to come for dinner? Squash, tomatoes, and pesto! Yesterday, in the blazing heat, I took a bike ride through the country. The grass was sweet and dry, the fields were green and the animals happy.