Did you ever notice how when it begins to get late in the day on Sunday, things seem melancholy. When I was a little girl, I thought it was because we had to leave my grandparents on Sunday afternoon. Now that I'm the grandparent, it's because I have to go back to work tomorrow.
Today, I emailed my son. I haven't actually spoken to him since June, when he called to wish me happy birthday. I'm not the world's best mother, but then again he isn't exactly a prize either. We're both just doing what's easiest I suppose. I hope he returns my email...I'll know we still have a relationship.
The great grandmothers are falling apart. My mother has an appointment with the spinal sugeon tomorrow. She has a compression fracture of the lower spine from a fall. My former mother-in-law had surgery today for partial replacement of a broken hip. Another upside of divorce...I only have one of them to take care of.
It was watering day on the even side of the street today. The shrubbery is surviving, but the grass is sparse and crisp. The drought continues and the forecast is for a return to 100 degree highs before the week is over. The fires at Bastrop and in Grimes and Montgomery counties are partially under control. My anxiety level about living in these parched woods is pretty high. I keep thinking about putting things I'd want to save in the back of the car. But where would I begin? Berit's wedding portrait, Sloan's baby pictures, everything else is just stuff. Stuff that our lives are made from.
The kids sent a picture from lunch at a hamburger joint. Maura sent a picture of Molly sitting up.
Her new trick for her grandpa.
Some fall down, some sit up and tomorrow is Monday.
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