Tomorrow for my sister's birthday, we'll be having margarita pedicures. Doesn't that sound decadent! I need one too, my feet are in bad shape!

Read Peter Mayle, anyone with a traveling bug. He writes verbal pictures of provencal life. Born English, then became American, then moved off and on again to Provence, he can make snails sound appetising. His books are full of decolatage Patronesses, stations without a single train, the town ex-patriate, olive trees, lavender, summer breezes and country markets. And the food -- heavens all the food. It rivals Brian Jaques mouth watering accounts. All of his books will soon grace my shelves.

I got the nicest email the other day from Eric. It made my day!

I worked a double on sunday. Bartending in the main building, then cocktailing at night. It's been a bad couple of days...lots of people and not enough me. And then the bartenders keep mysteriously disappearing so I have to do that too. Yesterday I was at the golf lounge. A guy came in whose wife and daughter were playing all 18 holes. We'd just gotten through a huge rush -- when the temperature hit triple digits every single person came off the golf course and wanted lunch. Being a monday, there was only one server. Guess who got to fill in!

So he sat for two hours while they played the back nine. This is the part of bartending I really like -- getting to sit and talk to the patrons. He was a substitute teacher for years and had story after story. And for the last hour I had half a dozen people there. Strangers, but all friends for the afternoon. Say all you like against alcohol and bars, but it IS pleasant when it more resembles a pub...

It is soooooooo hot! 105 or somewhere around there. I went to the nursery today and bought two more miniature roses, some false sage, white climbing stuff whose name I can't remember, and another double impatient. I cleaned off my patio, scrubbed the lattice that holds up my honeysuckle, and transplanted a few things. My garden is looking very nice indeed. If I do say so myself.