Sunday . . .

I don't know how one day of the week can feel so lonely and empty.

Even as a child, I really disliked Sundays. It was the day that friends had to stay home with family, stores were closed, and television went on vacation - - but only having five channels didn't help.

Today I've done a little bit of everything, but still feel that terrible sick, sinking feeling of loneliness.

After a trip to Target, I went to the pond to visit Nanny and her friends. When I get there I had three white muscovy ducks come running to meet me. They followed me half way around the pond hoping I would produce something wonderful to eat.

At one point I squatted down to get closer and they got right in my face, but in a companionable way, not a pushy, obnoxious way. They have beautiful green eyes, and they were looking right into my eyes.

I would have stayed longer, but there were women screaming, yelling, chasing the ducks, and running away. I don't understand these people who take bread for the ducks, but are afraid of them when they come to get fed.

Now I'm waiting to go pick up my Fair pictures, and then I want to come home and put Sunday to bed.