A Kick Back Day

And for some reason, relaxing despite the craziness in this world. After my flute lesson this morning, hubby and I had lunch at the house. A simple meal consisting of a lunch meat sandwich, baked chips, and decaf iced tea. It was actually filling.

After lunch, I washed the dog. He has a weird disease that resulted in substantial hair loss. In addition to a bald neck, he has clumps of hair missing on his back and he walks around mooning the world. If I don't bath him with Safeguard once a week, he licks his paws and scratches off more. According to several vets, they may or may not be able to diagnose the problem with the aid of expensive bloodwork. Umm, no.

Earlier that morning, I did a bit of reading. I'm currently reading John Lawson's A New Voyage to Carolina, written sometime after his visit to the colonies in 1700. It's quite engaging, and provides an insightful and fascinating glimpse of the Carolinas during that time. I'm at the early stage of his journey, and have walked with him through savannas, creeks, and meals with various Indian nations. A few excerpts I posted on Facebook earlier today:

...the Indians never setting forward 'till the Sun is an Hour or two high, and hath exhall'd the Dew from the Earth.

and 

We saw at the Cassetta's Cabin the strangest Spectacle of Antiquity I ever knew, it being an old Indian Squah, that, had I been to have guess'd at her Age by her Aspect, old Parr's Head (the Welch Methusalem) was a Face in Swadling-Clouts to hers.

Her Skin hung in Reaves like a Bag of Tripe. By a fair Computation, one might have justly thought it would have contain'd three such Carcasses as hers then was. She had one of her Hands contracted by some Accident in the Fire, they sleeping always by it, and often fall into sad Disasters, especially in their drunken Moods.

I made the strictest Enquiry that was possible, and by what I could gather, she was considerably above 100 Years old, notwithstanding she smoak'd Tobacco, and eat her Victuals, to all Appearance, as heartily as one of 18.

That man had a way with words.

Later, I watched a two episodes of Civil War Journal. One featuring George McClellan, the Union's most useless general (I'm a Grant snob myself) and one the 54th Massachusetts brigade, the first African American unit, and their attack on Fort Wagner, both of which are featured in Peter Leavell's debut release, Gideon's Call.

It's dinnertime, and I have grits simmering in chicken broth. Time to make the kielbasa. Wherever you are, have a great evening!

Flowers on my coffee table