I didn't sleep much last night. G'ma fell off her couch and we spent the early morning hours in the Emergency Room. Everyone was very nice, not everyone was very efficient, and it was 5:34am before I had tucked her in back at the pod-castle and pulled out of the parking lot on my way home.
The sun rises very early at this time of year. I didn't need my headlights. I did need my pillow
A 22 year old Irish lad with a crooked grin and big bear of a dad won the US Open golf tournament on Sunday. According to TBG, this is the first of golf's Majors. Apparently, winning it is a very big deal. For my part, it was nice to watch golf without Tiger, whose peccadilloes and never-ending-never-healing injuries (after using performance enhancing drugs, perhaps?) distract me from the foliage and the clouds.
Golf is a pretty game to have as a backdrop to writing to you.
We are thinking about traveling east for a class next month. The topic isn't all that attractive but we've had this teacher twice before and there's no reason to assume that the sessions will be anything less than fascinating. Besides, we just got a letter from the director of the program telling us they've had us in their thoughts.
There are lots of reasons to do something. Often, the side pieces are more interesting than the main event.
I packed care packages for our warriors at the Democratic Party Headquarters on Friday morning. Donations had poured in, and we were able to create "hygiene" and "food" boxes for more than 200 servicemen and women. I learned about the Red Cross's efforts to support the troops, heard about the bickering behind the scenes at the last Committee meeting, learned how to access apps on an Iphone, and personally flattened a garbage bag full of recyclable boxes. I have no one serving, don't know what the Committee was and I don't have an Iphone - yet I was a happy camper.
It was just like envelope addressing and stuffing parties for the PTA. Walking around those tables, filling, writing, folding, making idle conversation - those were some of the happiest times of my life. Seriously.
I don't know how I missed The Help when it was the rage of every book club in the world, but I did. I am half way through and I can't concentrate here because my brain is with Skeeter and Minny and AibileEN and Mae Mobley and Miss Celia and I'm so tired that my fingers just made alphabet salad on the screen when they collapsed of their own weight.
I'm going to apologize for a short post, close Nellie the Notebook, prop Kathryn Stockett's book on my belly and see how long I last.