Can't Go Back To Sleep...

... so I might as well blog since I didn't last night.  

Yesterday was a busy day, thank goodness.  I had lots of phone calls to make, bills to pay (because it was the 15th, a bill-paying day, gotta get back into the mindset of remembering now that it's my job again), an obituary to write, a funeral home to visit, and a daughter to welcome back.  I was (and am) eternally grateful that we spent the time last winter getting all of our estate planning ducks in a row.  All DS and I had to decide at the funeral home was when (Friday, 5:00 visitation, 6:00 short memorial service) and what kind of flowers (tropical).  Since Durwood wasn't a music guy, since his favorite music was Big Band music, we decided that In the Mood and One O'clock Jump weren't funereal music and since organ music just reminds us to look behind curtains for Dracula (or Lon Chaney) we'd skip the music.

On Tuesday LC and I made our famous and delicious Cornbread, Carrot, Cheddar Waffles.  Pretty soon she won't need my help to make them.  Once she's able to cut the carrot and the cheese with a knife and use the hot waffle iron I'm out of a job.  Oh, these are soooooo good.  A little butter, a little syrup, yum.

While we were playing outside this teeny-tiny butterfly visited the zinnias.  Can you see it?  It's on the white flower and it's about as big as my pinkie nail.





Today DD and I are headed back to the assisted living to return the chairs, lamps, and dishes back to Goodwill, take down and bring home the pictures, and gather up all the blankets and the clothes that are worth washing before donating.  Tomorrow morning DS and DD will haul the dresser, desk chair, and the cherry gate leg table I've got now back to storage and bring our original table back.  As much as I love the cherry table, it's not really a viable kitchen-type table.  I think it's time for someone else to love it.  I have lots of things that Grandpa made so I'm opting for function over sentiment.  Just this once.

August 16--Henri Rousseau, The Walk in the Forest of St-Germain.  As Jan walked along, the path narrowed and the trees closed in.  The day was hot.  It was the middle of August but just a few steps into the woods and she felt a chill.  She shifted her day pack on her shoulders, glad that she'd put in a long-sleeved shirt, and kept walking.  Matt had drawn her a map of how to get from the pond parking lot to his grandparents' place.  "It's an easy half-hour walk through the woods," he said.  "You'll be there before you know it."  He had come up last week Thursday to help his grandfather and uncles with a building project and invited her to come on Sunday to stay a few days.

Dun-dun-DUN.  Cue the ominous music.  Maybe I'll put a star by this one and see where I can take it one of these days.

I'm so glad that DD is here for a few days, that she doesn't have to zoom into town for the funeral and then zoom back home.  I'm especially glad because I know that she feels helpless to help with things because she lives so far away, so getting pressed into hauling mode is a very good thing.  I think I'll  (magnanimously) allow her to help DS tomorrow with the heavy things, give them a little brother and sister alone time.  I'm nice like that.  Well, the sun's starting to come up so I guess I'll end this and go see if the paper's been delivered.  I could do the crossword and my yoga (which I skipped yesterday--bad girl).  Thanks for all of your condolences on FB.  I'll read every one over and over.  You make me feel loved.
--Barbara