An indoor day

Nothing much to report. The sanding is mostly done in the loft. There are some bits left to do where the electric sander couldn't reach, but the majority is done. I've cleaned up after every sanding session but there is still dust. The floor needs special attention. It feels gritty.

The deck seen from the living room. The chairs are tipped in typical French fashion.

Except for walking Callie twice, I spent all of Wednesday inside. The weather system that came through brought rain off and on for much of the day. We got eleven millimeters. I kept the house closed up and it stayed relatively warm all day even though the high outside only reached the high sixties.

I was able to give away three more zukes (yay!) yesterday. I know there will be more ready in the garden today or tomorrow. A friend turned me on to a recipe for malfatti. They're Italian (malfatti means "badly made"), and kind of like gnocchi, only lighter and supposedly much easier to prepare. They're made with ricotta cheese and spinach. I'm thinking I might be able to make them with local goat cheese and garden chard, and maybe even grated zucchini. I'll let you know how that goes.

There has been nothing of interest these past few nights on any of the fifty million (I exaggerate) television channels we get. I kind of half-watched "Greystoke, the Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes" on Tuesday. Meh. That movie should get an award for the longest and most boring title ever. During the credits it said, "Introducing Andie MacDowell." It was 1984, after all. Her biography on Wikipedia says, "MacDowell was married... to fellow former model and rancher Paul Qualley." Former model and rancher? Just let that sink in for a moment.

Last night I popped the "Mamma-Mia!" DVD in and sang along with the ABBA songs. I know. I saw you roll your eyes just then. It's funny how Pierce Brosnan's singing makes Meryl Streep sound like an old Broadway pro.

I was awakened for the third night in a row at precisely four a.m. by the noise of what I thought was a truck in the road next to the house. I got up and looked out the window this time. The vehicle, a car and not a truck, was pulling out of our neighbors' yard. I think it's the neighbors' car. I had originally thought it was a truck because its diesel engine sounds pretty loud in the silence of the night. I wonder where an eighty-four year old man is going at four in the morning three nights in a row?

I'm going out to walk the dog in a few minutes so I will look to see if his car is there. If it is, and since I heard no evidence of him returning yet this morning, my theory is shot. If it's not him, then who is pulling out of his driveway in the middle of the night? Is a puzzlement!

That is all.