Since my last post, I also smothered okra, hand washed some new summer T’s I needed–violet; canary yellow; cobalt; coffee; peach.  Made cabbage steaks (sliced width-wise, drizzled with olive oil, honey, balsamic vinegar, spices and roasted in the oven; had fresh pineapple that I skewed with smoked sausage and it is also cooking in the oven; cleaned out the fridge, trimmed three inches off my too-long, getting wild hair that I also colored, and transplanted the mint and periwinkles, and cut all the thorny branches off the bougainvillea.  And now, I am getting tired, but it isn’t a sick tired, it’s a good tired that comes from good busyness.

I am now taping and watching the sequel to, “The White Queen,”, i.e., “The White Princess.”  Both series were robust in the jolly old England way before Victoria but I have to admit something to someone who always covered my eyes whenever a naked man came onscreen–an endearing thing I will always treasure–there are plenty of hiney shots in these series of men, but, Child, these actors are in their twenties and thirties at the most and the way I look at it is almost as if I have wandered by accident into the bathroom when my son was taking a shower–might think the buns of steels are admirable before I quickly duck out, but that’s honestly as far as it goes! And again, I’m so glad I have become an old lady that doesn’t want boy toys!

I need to read more of English history.  I know some of it, but truth to tell the Hundred Years War fascinates me, always has, as have the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.  I was surprised when I took that test that said I belonged in Elizabethan England, but then again, what a hoot of a time to have lived in–Shakespeare, the writing, the culture, America had been discovered, the globe circumnavigated by what I think was one of my ancestors, but myancestry. com should tell me a lot about it.  Received a confirmation that they received my sample and were in the process of processing it–mid-May, can’t wait.

The beautiful breeze, now stiffening to a wind, continued and is sailing through the Ernest Hemingway room that, if I didn’t get tired, I would clean out today.  It’s become a repository, ie, junk room, and is my next project.