An Umbrellas of Cherbourg sort of day for the O’s yesterday, I’m afraid. 
The Biltmore Estate, Asheville. Might make a nice weekend house.
Could you put your jacket right there, over the puddle?
All the ennui, none of the singing.
You remember the Umbrellas of Cherbourg don’t you? The 1964 pop-art cinematic opera? About a woman who married the rich jeweler for position and money rather than love? The. Worst. Movie. Evah! The critics, of course, loved it.
That’s all for today, still cleaning up after Hub’s big anniversary party. There’s meteor dust all over everything.
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