There’s a lot of truth in the claims that homemade chicken soup is theraputic. I made a pot yesterday, and feel lots better.
The weather here is glorious, and it gave me quite a case of Spring Fever. I bought zinnia seeds yesterday–my dad used to grow them in fabulous splashes of vivid color. They make wonderful bouquets, too. Maybe I’ll do some container gardening, like my beloved editor and dear friend, Joan. It would seem that my gardening genes are finally kicking in–past a certain age, most Laels become avid growers of flowers and vegetables. My uncle, Larry Lael, runs a wonderful nursery near Olympia, Washington, with his lovely wife, Bethany.
Svelte Sadie is off to her exercise class–she gets the weekend off, and I’m sure she’s looking forward to some beagle-snoozing.
I plan to polish my prologue and first chapter today, and shop for a new microwave tomorrow. Sunday, of course, is Aunt Billie’s 90th Birthday Bash. She’s going strong–my cousin caught her rototilling the garden recently. There is nothing that woman doesn’t know about horses and things that spring from the soil.
She’s definitely someone to celebrate.