Saturday Morning.

Saturday morning.

Almost 9:00 AM. Breakfast (Spam, scrambled eggs, rice, fried bananas) finished, kids have eaten and have now gone to Lola Ninfa's where there's cable TV.

I was able to connect my PC to the avast VPN out of Seattle and we're listening to Nora Jones on Spotify. It's difficult to get overly motivated; it's already sweltering. Besides, Nora Jones is slow and relaxing - just perfect for the heat.

I'm not about to get out this morning in the garden plot. I have a couple of good excuses; it rained during the night and the soil is too wet for digging - the humidity is nearly unbearable- and finally, because I'm recuperating from a chest cold, my wife won't allow it.

Sitting in the living room, looking out the window, I see a butterfly feeding on the blossom of a small tree outside. By the time I've gone into the bedroom and fetched my camera, it's gone away. The camera sets on the table nearby now, so I'm sure the butterfly will not return any time soon.

As it happens, I'm spending more time reading than I am writing. I'm currently in the middle of  The Three Musketeers. Not quite sure why I'm only getting around to reading it now. I wonder if the book is still considered "standard reading". When I was younger, I was under the impression that the book was written with young readers in mind. Not so. The book is written for adults. Dumas was not nearly as explicit as he might have been had he written the book today, but I can't see how it would have been ever considered appropriate for High School kids. It is just me? d'Artagnan is hardly a role model.

The kids are drifting back this way. So much for my relaxing Saturday.

I suppose it's just as well. I need to get up and about.