This wood was made for knocking�

I noticed today that the trees along the river have almost all lost their foliage, which leaves the white of the birches in stark contrast to the darker woods behind. It�s one of the aspects of the river that always makes me feel like I want to get out my oil paints, but I never do. The Canada geese and mallards which had been using the river as a stop-off point on their way south have now vacated the area, and there were only a few gulls hanging about when I came back from grocery shopping this afternoon.

This morning I didn�t feel too good, woozy, dizzy, a little headachey. After the kids left for school and Hubby left to deal with his computer glitch, I went back to bed and did not actually get up again until 1:15 p.m. Feeling much revived, I sat down at the computer and proceeded to spend the next several hours on my butt, so that when Buddy Boy arrived home from school I was still chatting away with an invisible friend in my bathrobe and pyjamas. It did not escape his eagle eye.

Finally I pulled myself away from the scintillating conversation I was having to get dressed and buy a few groceries so I could actually feed said Buddy Boy and get him to karate. I have just retrieved him. Life has a certain repetitive quality, n�est-ce pas? I have studied for my Latin test tomorrow and am trying earnestly to remember that tamen means �however� and interea means �meanwhile�.

In other news, Hubby called me all happy from the studio because he had figured out what had gone wrong yesterday and fixed it. In the process he also discovered another problem, and fixed that. So, knocking on the proverbial wood, everything should go fine next Sunday when we rehearse with the other musicians.

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