(no subject)
Wake up at 6:00 as I hear the dog stir, I'm not quiet sure how long he's been in my room. I change and take him outside. Without my glasses the full moon, large in the now brightening sky looks fuzzy and oblong. The dog has a strange 6th sense as he stares in one direction and out comes another dog with owner in toe. He does not poop and as we approach the house my sister comes by, we are supposed to go to a farmers market where a Frenchman bakes bread using a stone oven. When we arrive, here, at 7:30 we find that he doesn't come until later. So much for the French and their early bread baking, but then again this is the US.
Addendum:
As the person behind me says to another person everyone wants good bread for Labor Day. Is that true?
-Saturday
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