Michigan ~ Day 45

2000

I think Paco started reading St. Augustine’s Confessions a little while ago, and now I’m playing catch up while waiting fifteen minutes for my water filter to finish soaking. . I don’t recall having had to make myself read an entire book out loud to properly absorb it since reading 1917 in high school.

My sommelier studies have been shamefully neglected this summer, I am not proud to say, but on the other hand, I have been studying basic Italian, Spanish, and French. Wheelock’s on my list of things to revisit when I get home.

I slept in this morning and didn’t get around to doing anything productive with myself until about 11. Productive = cleaning my room, cleaning out the car, general car maintenance, attempting to call UC again, walking away from a gorgeous $115 ukulele with paua shell inlay, finding a new dress and skirt at Goodwill, buying some Summer Shandy, checking out the clearance rack at Jo Ann’s for scrapbook paper that is now officially letter-writing paper for me, moving my foodstuffs to the downstairs kitchen, laundry, the abovementioned reading/studying, watching some Bourne, going to the top of the vineyards and playing guitar, eating brunch (almond and rhubarb pie) and linner (my delicious smashed potatoes, Pond Hill pork skewers, and sauteed/caramelized rhubarb/onions) and snacking on chocolate covered cherries and a blackberry witbier, seasoning my cast iron, reading some serious TDKR reviews, checking facebook (which is productive when you’re using it to keep in touch with your mother and grandmother and specifically today your Y&YA Minister), checking email, writing letters, blogging, blowtorching bluebottles… Oh yes, I’ve been incredibly productive in the past nine hours.

2207

Dinner? Supper? Something like that. At any rate, more smashed potatoes while watching G.I. Joe. It was entirely unintentional, but I went upstairs to clear out my foodstuffs from the fridge and cupboards, and Tim had the TV on and I heard Rex talking and was utterly distracted. Anyway, it’s time for bed. Thirteen hours in the kitchen tomorrow; another wine dinner and it means I get to miss out on swing dancing… *very sad face*

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