Saturday, August 17, 2013

You Made Lippincott Fun

Dear John,
 
It's been a beautiful day - upper 70s, clear, breeze out of the north. No real football yet, but it won't be long. I'm looking forward to the start of the college season.
 
I'm trying something different today. I've been taking Sunday as my rest day - there seems to be some precedent for that. But I thought I'd try resting today so I'd feel my best tomorrow morning. I didn't mow, trim, weed, sweep the garage, paint, dust, or any of the things that need to be done. It would have been a lot more fun to do nothing with you, but it was a nice day. We never did have to do anything to have fun together. That comes from dating in college when we didn't have any money, and we had to study anyway. You're the only person that could make a day spent reading Lippincott enjoyable.
 
I called your mother this afternoon. We're both enjoying this week of fall in the middle of August. She had to get a new furnace and air conditioning unit, and hasn't had to use either of them yet. She's feeling fine except for allergies. She said the mold count has been up there all summer. It is more humid there than it is here - we tend to get dry winds down out of the Canadian great plains, and they sit there in the river valley. I could do things in the garden there that I can't do here, but I'll take some gardening restrictions if I get to have lower humidity.
 
Yesterday I saw some corn being cut already. Some early bushes are starting to turn, and we have half-inch crabapples on the trees. Our asters are blooming and the petunias are at their end. They've struggled all summer because they got too much water early in the summer when it rained every day. I'll replace them soon with half-price mums.
 
You're probably not a bit interested in this, but it's all I've got for the day. It's just been a quiet day at home with the animals. We miss you, especially on quiet days. Do you miss us? It's okay if you don't, as long as you're waiting for us and saving a seat!
 
Adore you,
Joan.

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