Love back home

Spent a day or so back at the parent's home. As I mentioned in my last post, we had a lovely family dinner, and more celebration of my birthday.

Today was relaxing, I was able to sleep in on a cloudy morning, and wake up to Autumn-y music. Thank you Stacey Kent, and Vince Guaraldi.

I finished my laundry, and finished my book so that it could go back to the library. (On tomorrow's agenda: visit the library closest to me and get a library card!)

 My car filled up thoroughly for the drive back: gifts, and random things that Mama wanted to give me, a chair for the corner of my room... On my drive home I made a few stops and used the birthday money from Grandma E to get some spices: ginger, cloves, nutmeg; flowers and molasses.

Nothing quite so happy as flowers.

Psmith anyone?

"I asked you to wear a pink chrysanthemum. So I could recognize you, you know." 

"I am wearing a pink chrysanthemum. I should have imagined that that was a fact that the most casual could hardly have overlooked." 

"That thing?" the other gazed disparagingly at the floral decoration. "I thought it was some kind of cabbage. I meant one of those what-d'you-may-call-its that people do wear in their button-holes." 

"Carnation, possibly?" 

"Carnation! That's right." 

Psmith removed the chrysanthemum and dropped it behind his chair. He looked at his companion reproachfully. 

"If you had studied botany at school, comrade," he said, "much misery might have been averted. I cannot begin to tell you the spiritual agony I suffered, trailing through the metropolis behind that shrub."

--Leave it to Psmith, P.G. Wodehouse, a review of which I happened on here, and thoroughly approved of.