Pristine Whiteness

This makes my fourth entry for today, but since the others really counted as one split up into three parts for ease of delivery, I guess it�s really only my second. I just got back from belly-dancing class to find that the supper dishes had not been washed, a task which Buddy Boy assured me would be completed, but as we speak he is sitting at the laptop playing some shooter game.

Reading harri3tspy�s account of the flooded Des Moines River reminds me of when I flew to Winnipeg during the great Red River flood of 1997. From the plane I could see little islands of dry land marked off by sandbags around a house, and then there were the houses totally surrounded by water. It was very frightening and fascinating all at the same time.

We stopped to fill up with gas before leaving Toronto yesterday, and while Hubby was filling the tank I watched two black women add oil to their engine. The woman doing the actual work was tall, largebuilt, wearing a white hat and a dark brown dress with a dazzling white coat over it. Against the darkness of her dress and skin it really was brilliant; there was even some kind of crystaline beading that caught the sunlight. I watched as she put a funnel in the engine, opened the bottle of oil and poured it in. She then closed the hood and replaced the turquoise frilly umbrella she had been using as a prop in the back seat of the car, and went on her merry way. The whole time I was waiting for disaster to strike in the form of oil splashed on that pristine whiteness, and it never happened. She was so cool and efficient, I felt like applauding when she was done.

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