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I got the day off to a better start with a challenging Pilates class with the delightful Amanda, and an Aztec Mocha with my friend Nancy. Since I was just steps away from the SMART train station, I went over there to see if I could get a schedule. One would think a train that makes only six stops on a 42 mile route would have a posted schedule, but the platform was deserted, posted with signs in two languages stating what was forbidden, but no enlightenment as to when the train might appear.

The formidable building which used to be a train station but is now a tourist information center did produce a handful of brochures outlining shuttle schedules, the train schedule and the location of parking lots which are far away enough from the station that a shuttle is required. I discussed this arrangement with the gentleman in the tourist information place, which is no longer a train station, and we both agreed, that while there presumably IS a way to get to San Francisco and back on a cobbled together system of trains, ferries and buses, a round trip would not leave much time to do anything in San Francisco. Especially since getting anywhere in San Francisco would most likely require another connection via MUNI (which could be a train, a trolley or a bus).

I didn't think our intimate apparel would ever feature in a Blipfoto shot, but it all just goes to show that life is unpredictable....

While OilMan groveled on his knees in the mud, I drove around town looking for a store that carried old fashioned clothespins. Not the grocery store. Not the hardware store but finally the CVS Pharmacy which devotes most of its considerable floor space to virtually everything other than pharmaceuticals....

Back at home, OilMan was still on his knees, surrounded by several more muddy holes and trenches, but seemed cheerful at the thought that Luis would be here Friday to help him put in a new line. Don't get me started about the complexity/delicacy of these irrigation systems. That is a rant for another day, but one would think that something that is supposed to be buried in the ground would be able to stand up to the rigors of gnawing rodents, heat, cold and, well, water....

I convinced him to get off his knees for awhile and pull out the clothesline. In the end it took both of us, but it worked fine and the art of hanging clothes on a line came back to me very quickly. I'm looking forward to fresh air dried clothes. IN fact, our weather is so warm, that I think they might have dried faster on the line than they would have in the dryer...if it worked. Which it doesn't.