Last evening.


This morning.


No fancy pictures of this afternoon. Nothing but blue skies. My graphics program has run out of white to draw pretty, white, fluffy clouds.

I think that I'm burnt to a crisp. I worked all day in the boat and on the dock, with out shade. I thought of going for a swim to cool off, until I remembered Razor's squeaky voice when he put in his docks the other day. And he was wearing a sexy wet suit too. I have pictures, but I don't want my intestines dried out to make snow shoes. (I'll show you if you come here).

Big clean up day tomorrow, getting ready for my visitors. I have to make bread too, which is a daunting task as my Aunt Bessie is the best bread maker in the known world.