Sunny Saturday

Lots of walking today, for my mom and for me. I went down to a neighborhood called Fremont, to a used bookstore called Twice Sold Tales. Scored some great choices: Margaret Atwood's
"Negotiating with the Dead"; Elizabeth Bowen's "The Last September"; Murray Bail's "Homesickness"; and "Journey to Portugal" by Jose Saramago. I was looking for more titles by Thea Astley, a highly-esteemed Australian writer, but had no luck.
The "tres hombres" worked steadily until after 9:00 tonight, finishing off the grout in the retaining wall. The head guy remarked that they'd "bitten off a bit too much," and had to get it all smoothed down and textured before it set up. There were power issues regarding their halogen work lights, and I had to run down into the basement several times to reset a breaker; but at least it wasn't after midnight, when I always hope to be successfully sound asleep.
Read more of "Shadow of the Wind;" it has actually improved farther along, showing signs of a twisted kind of humor and hyperbole. I'd still classify it as lightweight, but it isn't annoying me
anymore.
Mi esposo returned late, past midnight, and tumbled immediately into restorative slumber. The cats and I were most joyful at his return.