Wednesday, August 12

We slept late, and after breakfast, a treadmill session, and getting ready for the day, Hubbie and I delivered the boxes and bags of items for the yard sale to the Caring Hands Hospice office. We didn't do anything of consequence the rest of the morning.



After lunch, I transcribed the community theatre minutes notes and e-mailed them to the president of the board. He responded, saying I'd completed the minutes at the speed of lightening. I reminded him that it was necessary that I transcribe immediately or risk not being able to read my notes later.



My bad handwriting is the reason I've been dragging my feet in writing personal notes in the greeting cards Mother and I made Monday, but I finally got down to it this afternoon. I decided a safe approach would be to print the messages rather than write them, which seemed to work okay. At least the messages are legible.


After that, I read my novel, getting within four pages of finishing before suppertime, and finishing those pages right after supper. Now I can bag the "Twilight" series books to take back to Hubbie's sister... just in the nick of time, since we got a call from the RV repair shop that our camper is ready. Nothing important is on the calendar for Friday, so we'll go get it then.

Tonight's TV fare was "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day," a 2008 PG-13 movie starring Frances McDormand, Amy Adams and Lee Pace. This is a comedy about a late 1930s middle-aged governess, who, having goofed several jobs is now starving. She wangles her way into a new job as a social secretary to a gold digging would-be actress. The association lasts only one day and one night, but a lot happens to change the actress's life, as well as the governess's.


Funny (from the art gallery again): a member of the visual arts committee was manning the gallery last week when a young woman came in asking if she could tape a flyer announcing a fundraising concert event in the window of the gallery. The committee member said yes, that it would be okay.



"I'm an artist, too," the young woman commented.



"Oh?" the committee member said, interested. "What medium do you work in?"



"Tattoo," the young woman replied.