The newspaper has announced that last week's warm weather was the one week of summer we're getting. Now fall has arrived, and yet, and yet, I could have sworn we had fall from June to September. Oh, well, the least of my worries, I guess. My husband and I had two warm days at the cabin, and lugged the canoe up with a minimum of hernial action and washed every sheet and towel in the place, plus the floors. We didn't put the shutters on and drain the pipes yet, because my husband swears he's going up again in the next two weeks. I've heard that one before. When we can't sit out on the deck anymore, it's more difficult to get up there. That's when I begin to dream of beaches and umbrella drinks and warm nights.
We have two days at home, then we're driving up to see friends for a couple of days, then back to see our second opera, which got a horrendous review in both papers. They called Renee Fleming "lazy" if that gives you an idea. Oh, dear. Well, she's lovely to look at, no matter what. I guess this is not Donizetti's best music. I'm too uncultured to be too fazed, I'm sure.
Today I'm getting tennis shoes and mailing shoes to my daughter who left them at the cabin and shopping for a baby gift. And adjusting my brain to cool weather and possible rain.
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