Charles, who must be out and about every day (it's a genetic trait; I should write about the adventures of his father and grandfather some time), proffered a trip to a bookstore and lunch at Sweet Tomato(e). So, here I am, ready for the big outing. I still haven't figured out how to attach a tote to the walker and make it look attractive. That will be next week's little project. And I probably need to do something about the crocs. Tim Gunn calls them "hooves."
The book store, a lovely gently-read shop, had a nice selection of Agatha Christies, so I bought several for reading in the next months. I am stockpiling good books against the more stationary times to come.
At lunch, would you believe there was another lady with a walker? Hers was the race track model, quite unlike my more modest one. But she had such a great attitude about her own mobility that I don't feel so badly for myself, now. After all, I am out and about, the day is a 12 on a scale of 1 to 10, and there is always the studio for playing.
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