Sad--that Daniel Schorr died. Certain voices evoke different responses in me. I hear Ira Glass, I expect to sit riveted. I hear Nina Totenberg, I know I'll get the behind-the-scenes skinny on the Supremes. I hear Bob Uecker, it's summertime. Daniel Schorr was wisdom and comfort and grace and dignity. I had no idea he was 93.
Saturated--by cucumbers, potato salad, beans and wasps.
Sore--the soles of my feet up through my head. We took karate outside, in bare feet, on a parking lot. My partner was merciless. My soles are scraped raw, my legs hurt, my allergies are suffering with the mold count. Then Mr. G woke me up at 4 a.m.
Surprised--that Mr. T ran 3 miles so well this weekend, but Mr. B turned out to be a 50-pound weakling. I'd always thought he had more gumption. Thank God there's time to get him trained.
Silly--lying in the hammock while Ace weeds the garden. But that's why we pay him, right?
Satisfied--finally having watched 500 Days of Summer and it was good.
Super--floating in the pool after a hot, sweaty day.
Scratchy--where mosquitoes bit me on my left ear, right knee, left wrist, right arm, and behind my neck.
Spill it, reader. What do you feel?