I started out this morning to tell you of my Saturday morning adventure yesterday, but the blog has a mind of its own and it decided to take a different direction. It's sort of nice to know what I'm going to write about tomorrow and that's rarely the case.
We get together with Diane and Roger on holidays, too, often including Tim and our mutual friend, Fiona. I've known her for nearly 50 years starting when Tim was in the stroller and we used to stand outside her antique shop and watch her change her display windows. I wouldn't take a baby into the store, so she and I corresponded up a storm even though we lived within walking distance. She's the one who talked me into opening a bookshop. I did, ran it for 37 years, sold it 8 years ago and Fiona is still running her antique shop. She's what's known as a better man than I.
I'm not quite as militant as I used to be about getting the group together for a photo and then I'm sorry afterward, because the collection that we do have tells a continuing story. I must get back to doing that. It's worth the effort.
And Diane is a fiber artist who has written a wonderful book, now out of print and currently is teaching a needlepoint class in her home. I'll tell you a little about their home tomorrow. It's a splendid place and why we're so lucky to have these people as friends, I'll never quite understand. But I give thanks and more thanks as time goes by.