Betsy snapped this picture last night while I was either snacking or fixing supper. . . it's really a good picture of me, the best kind. . . blurry, no facial features showing, nothing close up and personal.
Saturday the people came to finalize the repairs to the front steps. They brought the neatest little cement mixer with them. . . it was absolutely crusty with old dried cement, with some orange and red showing through, along with black and brown. . . I ran inside to get my camera and asked if it was okay if I took some pictures of it. The guys thought I was a lunatic, but acquiesced. I started snapping away and looked at the display. . . nothing but fuzz and clouds and haze. I thought the camera was broken, so I went back inside to see if I could fix it. Within seconds, it was all right again. Then I figured it out. . . the camera had come out in the stupendous heat from the chilly air-conditioned house and the lens had clouded up. I took a bunch of shots of vapor. Or ghosts.
Today I'm going to paint in the studio. . . it's just too hot to be outdoors. Who knows, maybe between pieces of furniture I might get in a lick or two on a canvas. It makes me nuts that I can't go outside. . . I get jittery. So I'll probably sit on the porch for a while anyway, even in the heat.