The summer is smoothly slipping past, and lo and behold, I'm not sitting around eating bon-bons. And I'm actually coming up with a 'done' list that shows I'm not sitting at the computer all day reading other people's blogs and new stories.
The sock is done. The shawl is done. The baby surprise jacket is done. The bonnet to match is begun. And I sent in my county fair entry form, and included a pair of Latvian mittens. I haven't begun them yet, however. Guess what I'm making after the bonnet?
My reading is going well. David is done, Merchant of Venice is done, Genesis is perking along nicely. Classical Writing is perking along nicely. Greek ... well, let's just say ithat in 15 minutes after I finish this entry I *will* open the exercise book and do more than just close it and put it back on the shelf.
The harping is behaving itself, as is the garden (I have a teensy weensy green tomato beginning to form! And the watermelon plants are still alive, and flowering!!) Nothing, however, has happened to the quilt, nor to Euclid or school plans. Unless you count getting personalized pencils and graph paper notebooks?
I'd like to take this opportunity to present a plug for our local post office. I think we have the best post office around. If a friend in CA loses half the contents of a parcel that got sliced open by machinery, her post office says "Can't do anything." My post office says "What's the return address?" and starts calling around to find out where the processing facility is for that zip to see if the missing items can be located. If a package is supposed to go from New York to Florida, but doesn't make it to the right person because a teensy part of the address was missing, my post office will start making phone calls to find out where the parcel went. They don't just disappear, you know. And if you're sick at home and are waiting for an important piece of mail, or are home with a sick baby in the middle of winter ... the post office will snag a helpful person coming into the lobby to bring the mail over. And the post office even gets the impossible delivered ... like mail sent to my mom (another town, another zip) at her street address AND town, but my zip code. Or mail to my husband, but sent c/o someone else in another town ... it got to our box without even being cancelled at the other post office, and without having our address written on the envelope.
It's just amazing. We need to have a sign outside of town about our post office.
Pie cherries are getting over-ripe, so the plan is today to try and dehydrate some. The apricots are ripening and starting to drop all over the place. That's the one bad thing about fruit trees ... if you don't pick it just when it wants to be picked (and from however high up it felt like growing - our 4-6 ft apricot bushes are 20+ feet), the fruit falls down and goes smush.
My entrelac swatch has begun a new career as a doll's skirt.
Greek greek greek greek
1 comment:
Ahhh. The glory of a local post office in a small town. It is the blessing of America all wrapped up in a sweet, deliverable package.
I recieved just such a package when I visited the local post of a small town I lived in some 7 years ago. I opened it, and it said, "Oh Denise! How are you?? How is Nylah doing?? And, Zain? And, what ever happened to ...." And on.
It is like a present, isn't it?
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