Another birthday dinner last night—salmon with red wine mushroom sauce, mashed potatoes, asparagus. I'm more than willing to keep dragging this out. I now have the coolest tripod I have ever seen. Straight from REI, through Cullen, this tripod has legs that can be bent on a curve, rotated, even wrapped around a tree. I didn't do the tree thing to test it, but it works.(How many Memmott relatives can you count in this photo?)

The downstairs report. These are the plants for our hanging baskets, now in our laundry room—thumbergia, which if they survive the repotting, hardening, and final transplant will fill 10 hanging baskets in the garden. The tomato plants are growing under lights on the kitchen counter. Those of you interested in math could probably come up with a germination ratio based on this photo. The upstairs report? No picture, but Zoey is doing well. We had the potluck group tonight and half a dozen people trooped upstairs to meet and greet Zoey, who preened, talked, and generally impressed everyone. Food report? meatloaf, salad, baked salmon, pasta with cream sauce and vegetables, corn bread, corn souffle, chocolate truffles, and macademia nut cookies. We never know what's going to show up. Tonight's was a little odd for two corn items, but what's not to like about salmon and meat loaf?

Zooie's place

Why are these people so happy? Because one slightly drugged cat made it all the way across the country on Monday and is now settled into the upstairs condo.She has her own litterbox, her cat food, two windows to sit in, and a bed that is all hers. The resident cats have been interested but a little puzzled, and Zooie has held her own. She knows how to hiss, she knows that she is safe under the bed with my bags of yarn, and so far there have been no altercations. I give her high marks for adaptablility and willingness to hang out with the old folks. Tom and the sports page, me and the sewing machine, and she's happy.

old lady celebrates

We got out of town to do the celebration up big time—two nights at the Kent Manor Inn in Stevensville, Md, just off the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Wood floors, high ceilings, molding and ornate wall paper, beautiful old furniture, and instead of a closet in our room, rows of hooks. Mother would have been right at home.

The inn is on 200 acres of land. Lots of birds and open space.

Because the tourist season hasn't really begun, we practically had a private chef: Friday night blackened salmon, Saturday night filet mignon with a blue cheese horseradish dressing.

Saturday we did the Academy Art Museum in Easton, which we had to ourselves—a collection of prints donated by a Washington collector: etchings, lithographs, woodcuts, aquatints... Lunch at a small restaurant which has added a wine bar to its chocolate store. (The Ellicottville chocolate store might want to give that a try.)

Then we drove as far as we could on Tilghman Island and walked to a fenced-in Naval Research operation. Lots of whirling spy-type equipment.

Tom does blustery stuff better than I do. It may be the hair.

A 20-minute drive back to St. Michaels, where we figured out we don't know much about antiques but if there's a new winery in the area, we can find it.