Hot Winds
The hot winds are raising awareness of what pollen is blowing around. I have been sneezing quite a bit.
The kitchen smells good. I had a frozen pie, strawberry and rhubarb, that I had been saving for a birthday treat for Dennis. I did the baking before it was terribly warn outside. The apple barn east of Lake Crystal has a separate venue that sells baked pies, cream pies and frozen pies. A while back, I thought such an offering would be good to have on hand for such a day as today. The birthday phone call for Dennis was wonderful. Sharing words one on one beats something on Facebook.
While contemplating things in our home, I feel if I could just channel my dad, Raymond. While nothing is coming through as a solution, I have decided to put the idea on a shelf. You never know when a solution pops into the head while doing something different all together.
My retail therapy has been satisfied recently via Amazon. A new shower curtain was delivered on Sunday along with powerful magnets to place on the bottom of the curtain. The pitiful ones in the curtain from the manufacturer are just that . . . pitiful. The floor register’s air movement would get behind the lightweight curtain. Who needs climate control in the shower stall. Getting items delivered on Sunday, still is for me unbelievable.
Our brand new VA clinic is short a registered nurse. No one wants to work. Veterans that need to have a monthly check on their INR, blood clotting, have to travel to Mankato once a month. Good grief.
I will have a grocery list. We often don’t need a heavy supper. We like the frozen Jimmy Dean pre-cooked sausage patties coupled with Ego waffles for the toaster. The waffles that we like are not the flat ones. Even a bucket of ice cream doesn’t disappear too quickly.
Megan and I have been texting off and on. I told her I wouldn’t be making phone calls as her schedule is important. I still miss the fun times when she stayed with us. Hmm. Just when did she grow up?
Dennis has a six year old great grand that shares his birthday. Hard to believe that Luella is six. The youngest of the great grands.
Oh so many thoughts flitter through the gray matter . . . its called memories. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.