Macabre and pensive? Who, me?

A good, productive day, but kind of a frustrating evening. Let’s just say neither my dad nor I excel at relationships of the romantic nature with the opposite sex. I’d really like to step in and fix everything for him but whaddya do with a schizo bitch? Go horseback riding. (I wish.)

Finally worked through my issues with then ending for Taylor, going backwards. Dude, and one of the reasons I chose to be a writer is because it’s so easy. Just like farming. (Anyone hear the tongue in cheek yet?)

I worked in my garden tonight and got two gallon size bags of lettuce and spinach. I thinned the carrots and stopped the summer squash from a hostile takeover. The peas smell really good and are blooming like crazy in all this humidity. The potatoes are slowing down on top. It seemed like for a week or so the greens grew by feet over night. I think they’re making baby potatoes. (Shh! Newlyweds!) Yeah, I need to get out more.

Gram and I ate dinner together tonight. Between the two of us, my youth and vigor and her age and wisdom, we could solve all the world’s problems. She’s cute. She called and wanted to make supper. But I went to work in the garden and brought in all the stuff for salad and seasoned her pasta sauce, cooked the pasta, burned the bread, put a salad together and she still made supper. Well, she did put the sauce together… Group effort, let’s just call it a group effort. Good food, good conversation. It’s one of the big regrets of my life that I didn’t stay and have more nights like that with my grandpa before he passed. It’s nights like this I miss him. And it’s not that often that I admit it. Well, I’m having a beer for you Grampa, wherever you are.