putting together the patio chairs that needed restaining; and the moon gate that needed repair and restaining.

Did I mention we had raccoon tracks on the fence? Cheeky beggars. The fish are safe, even Ari, who’s a sitting duck if we didn’t have those rocks on her tank cover. And I have now sprinkled black pepper around Ari’s tank and coyote urine (dry) around the pond.

Ari’s doing a tiny bit better. We’re crossing fingers. It’s amazing the poor fish can manage a yard square tank, when she’s about 16-18 inches long, herself, but she’s been amazingly ok about it. For one thing, she’s the most hand-tamed of our fish, and she doesn’t freak when I daily lower her water level so her back is out, then refill with fresh water. Many fish would have a fit. She’s just such a sweetheart about it all I hate seeing her so injured. But the wound has stopped bleeding, and is now showing some hope of healing, where before, infection had just made it a mess.

I managed to drop a 50 lb box of books atop my foot. I could scarcely lift the box—set it where I thought was stable, and it plunged from about waist high, edge down, onto the instep of my foot. Oweeee. Good bones, I’m telling you. Dad had good bones. And I do, thank goodness. I’m going to be a wee bit sore.

Got to figure what we’re having for supper. I’m just not inspired this evening. But I’ll think of something. Maybe mac and cheese. That might work.