I got Mrs. C.B. to the foot doctor on time today, and it looks like this one will really do her some good. Thank God. Her son who lives in NC wants her to come down to live with him for a few months - maybe this winter. Though I'd hate to lose a client, I'd love to see her get some rest from the full time 24/7 job of taking care of Mr. C.B.

After we finished with that, I visited with my mother awhile. Her feet hurt too. Ever since The Hub had that ingrown toenail, I seem to be surrounded by problem feet.

I cleaned out my closet and my dresser drawers and gave everything I haven't worn more than one time in the past year to The St. Vincent de Paul Society. Giving stuff away always makes me feel better. I organized my closet & had so much energy that I decided to go to the consignment shops and the thrift stores to see if I could find a dress for the gallery opening. The Hub said, "Just wear a blazer with a pair of jeans".

I said, "I am NOT throwing on a pair of old jeans to wear to the gallery show!!"

That was probably not a good investment of my time. First of all, all the consignment shops in town closed just about the time I was parking my car: 4:00 in the afternoon. I was a little cheesed off about it, actually. Merchants in downtown Countyminster complain that they don't have any business, but it's a little tough for the working class to patronize them 10-4 ( closed Sunday and Monday) Anyway, I then I went out to Goodwill.

It's pretty easy for me to shop at Goodwill. My mom says she can never find anything there because everything is too jumbled, but I just went through the racks of dresses methodically, eliminating everything that:
Was Black
Too short
Too revealing
Too small
Too '80's
Too much!
Had stains
Had a hole in it
Had sequins
Had feathers
Had fur
Smelled weird
I Didn't know what it was and / or
Was afraid of it.

That left me with a total of 4 prospects, all of which I tried on. The first one was a vintage 1970's dress that said it was a size 14...but I had my doubts. Dress sizes in this country have changed. What's now a 14 was a 12 twenty years ago, etc. Sure enough, this really didn't fit around the hips, which was too bad, because it was way retro-cool with great big green and blue flowers on it.

Anyway, that probably saved me from getting into a quarrel with The Hub, who actually has very clear ideas about what he would like me to wear - not just to the gallery, but all the time. If he had the money, and I had no objection, he would dress me from head to toe in "classic" clothes from L.L.Bean, Edie Bauer, or Ralph Lauren. Tweeds, khaki's, denim, plaid, argyle - all that "to the manor born stuff"

"I don't like how those clothes make me look. They make me look too Aryan" I told him.

"Well, the way you dress now, you look....too avian!" he laughed. By which I guess he means I have my own style....which, as far as other people are concerned, isn't much of a style, just a lot of brightly colored clothes.

Anyway, 2 of the other 3 contenders were quickly eliminated in the fitting room. There was a fairly conventional sleevless dress in navy blue with chiffon skirt which reminded me of why I wear sleeves, and a cream and grey pattern dress that turned out to be too short.

Then, there was the Tomato Dress, which was not without problems. Most notabley, it was made out of cheap fabric: pretty clearly a bridesmaid's dress. Tomato red, it had a full skirt and an off the shoulder neckline. Possibly the addition of a satin ribbon and a flower pin at the bossom or sparkling '50's style pin could have updated it...but it was a little tight. I put it back on the rack.

That idea of the blazer and jeans is looking better already.

When I got home, Spike, my neighbor's rottwieller/doberman was standing in my back yard looking confused. He was without a collar or a leash, and I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out that he had jumped the fence in his yard. He went running back and forth between me and and his yard: but the fence was made of a flexible material which had bowed outwards when he made his escape. He couldn't get back in. The little kids were out, and they were scared of him and he was scared of them. So, I got Winston's leash and started chasing him around the boat that's parked back in the alley. Spike was having fun, but it wasn't really working out for me, so I finally yelled, "Spike! Sit!" which he did. He let me loop the leash around his neck and then I had to convince him to go around the alley so I could get him in the front of his his house. The trouble is, he didn't know that way and I was reluctant to just tug on the leash with a scared dog, so I had to really encourage him every step until we got out on the street where he lives...then it smelled familiar to him and he headed for his house with no trouble.

I knocked on the front door, but before anyone could answer it, Spike ( who is every bit as tall and powerful as Winston) nosed it open. He shot into the foyer, dragging me along behind him. My neighbors were sitting on the sofa, and didn't realize Spike had gotten loose, so Spike's Mom said to me, quite reasonably, "Why are you attached to my dog?"

"He was in my yard." I said, " I think he jumped the fence."

Meanwhile Spike made a run for the kitchen to make sure his food bowl hadn't gone anywhere during the course of his adventure.

"Oh, my God, he DID jump the fence!" said my neighbor, looking out the back door. "Spike! You bad dog! Where was he?"

" He was just coming over to visit Winston, but Winston was inside. I was worried he might run in the street, so I got the leash. He wasn't sure what to do with himself." I said.

"Oh, Jeeze, thank you so much! Thank God you know him: a lot of the neighbors are kinda scared of him. Just because he's big."

I smiled. "He's big?"

So, thanks to Spike, I got to do my good deed for the day, and it wasn't a total waste of time.