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IN SPITE OF HIS MORE OR LESS tragic life, I believe that Eugene O'Neill would have been euphoric today! Ditto for Johnny Unitas! Euphoric would have been the word for Eudora Welty, too, I believe! And Ullyses S. Grant! Doubtless my new European friends were euphoric today as they toured Niagra Falls!*
Even you, Reader Dear! There's a pretty good bet you yourself were euphoric!**

THE WEATHER WAS JUST THAT TERRIFIC!
(It made me giddy)
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*(Though it's hard to tell about the blue-sky-and-
sunshine conditions at Niagra Falls...
**...not to mention wherever you are, Reader Dear!)

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SEATED AROUND THAT TABLE at the restaurant by the river, where I had made dinner reservations, I took a picture of Hubert taking a picture of me taking a picture of him taking a picture of me taking a picture of him taking a picture of me....(I've got to stop this! I want to take other photos!)

Around that table we had good food. And good conversation, though limited to English.


But the excellent laughter--that was in Dutch and German and English and French and Arabic and Luxembourgish (I think I may have even heard a smidgeon of Spanish, but I'm not sure)!



And all of us fluent in every language! How fortunate is that?!
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STILL SCRAMBLING! Up out of bed on Saturday morning to go on an escapade with my sisses-in-law (and a niece). This time we were taking part in the "Berks County's Best Kept Secrets Tour," our brown paper shopping bags filled up with a list of the thirty-five shops that were participating, doodads these shops were giving away in the high hopes that participants would choose their particular establishment as a stopping place, and coupons, and brochures, and a map, and well, just enough stuff that we spent a good bit of our time between shops rummaging through our bags. "Where is it we're headed next? Is there a coupon for the place? Are they giving anything away? Does somebody have the scissors?

Of course we couldn't visit all thirty-five businesses. Alas, we had to pick and choose.
We pored over the yellow sheet with the list, each shop enticing us to visit with flowery words:

"JUST CURIOUS Gifts and Antiques...Our 1907 Brownstone Victorian Row home has been transformed into a charming, unexpected experience GUARANTEED to delight!"
(And oh boy, did it!
This was my pick-of-the-day!)

"SUNSHINE BLUE SKIES...Shopping here offers an experience for the senses. Beautiful music plays softly, while imported Italian tableware, handmade glassware, jewelry and local artwork delight the eyes. Scented candles and bath & body products are a treat to the nose. Gourmet food products & luscious candies tempt the taste buds. Plush animals beg...." (Surely you get the picture, Reader Dear!)

There was no telling what we'd find at each stop, what all we'd be treated to!


While the majority of places we visited were some kind of gift shop, we did have:
Bagels at a bagel shop.
Ice cream at an ice cream shop.
Candy at a candy shop.
Fruit at a fruit...er..."WEAVER'S FARM MARKET...
is a fourth generation family owned farm nestled in the scenic hills of Berks County. The farm market feels like country sunshine and is brimming over with fresh, homegrown fruits and vegetables."






















In addition to this, some of the shops were serving refreshments to the tour-takers. Let's just say, Dear Reader, we didn't lack for edibles!
Nor did we lack for fun!

(I could tell you more if I weren't still scrambling, alas!)
It was late afternoon when we (somewhat reluctantly) ended our tour and returned to our meeting spot; then I scrambled home to guests!













My yard man was entertaining the European visitors with whom we'd eaten the night before! They were seated on lawn chairs in the yard and getting hungry. Is it any wonder, Dear Reader, that I scrambled to make dinner reservations?

I'll have to scramble* back tomorrow and tell you more about Earhart and Carla and Mary Jane and Pit (apologies if this is not the proper spelling [he's a linguist, after all]; it's a nickname for Pierre) and Hubert and Riener (or maybe it's Reiner, hmm, it's a German name!)

*Okay. Now I'm sick of that word.
There'll be NO scrambled eggs for me tomorrow morning!

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SCRAMBLING, SCRAMBLING...I CAN'T keep up!
Yesterday evening, dashing in to center city on business just about closing time, I find the streets blocked off for a fiesta of fireworks. Folks are already congregating, and traffic is clotted. Trees are swaying in the stiff breeze that is ushering in rain! On the radio, the broadcaster is announcing a severe thunderstorm watch. The folks putting on this show, what on earth will they do?! I wonder.



A short time later, headed out of the city and inching along, the sky is an ominous gray. I think of my yard man and the little actor waiting for me at home. The minute I get there, they'll clamber into the car and we'll be off to a picnic at the home of an Amish family. Also invited are a group of visitors from various European countries. The folks hosting this picnic, what on earth will they do? I wonder.

While I can't tell you how the fireworks fanfare fared, Reader Dear, I can detail the dinner (it happened indoors!) The Yard Man, Little Actor, and I rode through torrents of rain on our half-hour journey to the home of the hosts. We saw fireworks in the sky, a very brief display, but vastly more impressive in terms of sheer magnitude than any that were set to go off in center city!

















There were nineteen people around the long table at the home of Melvin and Esther, counting only those who could sit up in a chair (and, at the very least, eat one piece of jelly-bread after another, and ask for more) and not counting their six-month-old grandbaby. We all reached and helped ourselves from steaming bowls of pork, potatoes and carrots, platters of corn-on-the-cob, and dishes of tangy coleslaw, then passed a big bowlful of berryful, whipped-creamy delight. When the meal had ended and the second prayer been observed (the Amish bow their heads for a silent prayer before and after dining), I helped wash the dishes along with Carla from Germany and Mary Jane from Luxemburg, both of them fluent in English (which was marvelous for me, Reader Dear, as it meant my end of the conversation could go beyond speaking of coup d'etats, lyrics to the Beatles' Michelle, and numerals from one to one hundred.



Seated snugly on the spacious porch, I was fortunate to end up next to Mah-ri Zhan (it's my best approximation to the lovely French pronunciation) whose native language is Luxembourgish, but who is fluent in four other languages, as well. She tells me that Luxembourgish is technically called a dialect, but to the native citizens of Luxembourg, it is a language, and one near and dear to their hearts! When I press her, she speaks a bit of it for me (to present to you, Viewer Dear! [I'm in the dark as to what she said, so if you are able to translate for me, Dear Listener, I'd be ever so appreciative (I'm saying "Merci!" in advance)]).

Alas, there are so many other fascinating bits of our conversation I would tell you if only I had the time. But I'm scrambling, scrambling! I must say " Äddi"!*


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*(It's Luxembourgish, yes!)

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"BUT THE MOTHER OF THE GROOM," protests my friend, "is supposed to wear beige and shut up!"
This friend of mine is going to be the mother of a groom. But (ahem) there was never a chance in hel... (I mean) here-comes-the-bride-until-there-go-the-blissful-newlyweds-in-a-shower-of-rice that this woman is going to keep her mouth shut! And now, neither will she wear beige! Now that I've found her a fabulous shade of blue silk scarf with which to make a dress!

You see, Reader Dear, this woman is an A-One, Top-Notch, Super-Duper seamstress. In fact, I would button-hole her as one of the best sewing persons I know! (Hmm. I was going to use the term sewer, but something didn't smell right about that word!) She's often made clothing out of scarves, and this one that I spotted in the shop where we shared the tiramisu (There's a small cafe at the store) seemed custom-made for her! But she kept zig-zagging and throwing a snag into my designs! "There's only one scarf! I'd need three to make a dress," she argued.

"Well," I said. "I'll just see if they have more!" And I marched right off to find out.

Admittedly, Dear Reader, I had my doubts about the chances of finding more scarves. This one I'd found was in a "marked-down" room. It was hanging in a Half-Off Sale!

But, oh my, it was precisely the shade of blue that made her eyes look bluer. And the pattern on the scarf was tastefully understated. And the tassels on the edges of the scarf--what a unique embellishment to work into the pattern of the dress! And, well...when a sales clerk pulled out of a drawer the last two of these scarves to be had, I told that woman (my friend, you know) that the blue silk dress was meant to be!

Can you believe it, Reader Dear? She was still hesitating, hemming (and hawing, if you will)! But aha, she did buy those scarves!

So we shall see. We shall see.



And hopefully we shall see
(that elegant blue dress on the
communicative mother of the groom!)

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