Today is a domestic day. I'm inspired by a new wrought-iron and wood shelf unit with hanging hooks our gardener Octavio made for me out of a beautiful shelf the Capt had made a few years ago for our old house. I made a drawing, submitted it to Octavio, and he created exactly what I had in mind! How often does that happen? I love the colonial look of it, and it's so strong, the Capt says I could stand on it (if I were 1-1/2 feet tall). Note that he made a lip on the front and sides to help secure stuff, open at the corners for easy cleaning.
You know what's next, of course. I'll have to scour the bottoms of all my pots and pans.
So I'm cooking, cleaning, moving things around for more efficiency, scrubbing out the fridge (tossing moldie oldies) and all the while listening to The Moth, my new favorite podcast. It's all personal stories, some really hilarious, delivered without notes. (I could never do that...could I? That would be harder than singing without lyrics!)
First I listened to Lewis Lapham, who worked as a cub reporter for the Oakland Examiner in the wild and wooly Fifties. His job started every day with the acquisition of a flask of bourbon for his bosses. Then he would go out with the staff photographer on assignment. If a woman was involved in the story, the photographer (Seymour Snare, "the original Dirty Old Man") would talk her into removing her clothes, no matter how grim or inappropriate the details of the story. Once he persuaded a woman to change into a negligee and pose next to her boyfriend, who was dying of four bullet wounds. This was tame...the narrative gets more outrageous from there on. I share this just in case any of you out there still think morals have gotten any worse in the last 75 years...
Next came Deborah Kiley, famous woman sailor, with a terrifying shipwreck story, complete with booze-fueled stupidities, shark attacks and saltwater mania. Uh-oh...Just when the Capt and I are once again talking about cruising in our spiffy boat.