Yesterday was an odd and fruitless series of trips out into the world. One to the post office on Thayer Street. One to a thrift store in East Providence. One to the downtown branch of the Providence Public Library. Okay, well, the trip top the library wasn't futile. There was at least that. Coming across the Point Street Bridge, I put my head out the window to get a photo, and I my hat blew off, and I thought it was in the road. So, Spooky found a place to park, and I hobbled back to the bridge, dodging traffic to try and find my hat. Only, it was in my seat in the van the whole time. Spooky found it and shouted, and the miracle is that I actually heard her.
I spent part of the afternoon reading Raymond A. Wolf's The Lost Villages of Scituate (2009) and The Scituate Reservoir (2010).
Dinner was left over black-eyed peas with some guacamole and rice and a tomato and Italian sausage and tortillas. Dinner was the best part of the day.
Resistance, Peace, and Compassion,