On Grief and Grieving - August 2026 Continued

August 19, 2026

Morning Watch, Wildlife, Dinner, and Evening Reflection

The day began at 6:38 AM with the first cup of coffee and a familiar trip to the patio doors to assess the morning. The temperature was a cool 61°, humidity was high at 92%, and a light southwest breeze of about 4 mph was moving through the yard. There was considerable cloud cover, though enough breaks were appearing to suggest that the morning might still produce something worthwhile.

By about 6:41 AM, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon and some color was developing in the eastern sky. As is so often the case, the morning became a matter of waiting to see just how far the old haymaker could push through the clouds.

The forecast was calling for some afternoon rain, not necessarily a major event, but perhaps enough to interfere with plans for dinner on the deck later in the day.

The wildlife apparently had other plans for the morning, because activity around the property was considerably greater than usual. Several deer appeared, wild turkeys were moving through the area, and the squirrels were carrying on with their usual enthusiasm.

That activity brought back an especially memorable sight from the previous evening. While talking on the telephone with my daughter, I spotted a doe beneath the oak tree toward the back of the property.

Knowing there were likely others nearby, I began scanning the area and eventually noticed something I could not remember ever seeing quite like this before: a spotted fawn lying peacefully in the grass near my neighbor's house.

The little one was probably 250 to 300 yards away, yet clearly visible because it had chosen a completely open patch of lawn. What made the scene so remarkable was how extraordinarily still it remained. For perhaps 30 to 45 minutes, throughout virtually the entire telephone conversation, the fawn hardly moved at all other than occasionally turning its head and ears.

I began thinking that if it remained there after our conversation ended, I would go inside, retrieve the Nikon DSLR, and try for some much better photographs.

Naturally, the moment the telephone call ended and I looked back toward the spot, the little rascal had disappeared. Fortunately, the iPhone photographs still captured it remarkably well, comfortably tucked into the grass with its spots clearly visible.

At around 8:00 am I decided to devote a bit of time to repairing the recently damaged deck table umbrella.

The repair looks like a success to me.

The umbrella is sitting open properly, the canopy looks reasonably taut, and nothing about it immediately says, “I recently attempted to escape the property in a Mary Poppins impersonation.”

And there’s something particularly satisfying about having beaten that thing into submission with nothing more sophisticated than a needle and thread, especially after the little handheld sewing machine I recently purchased proved to be more useful for expanding my vocabulary than repairing the umbrella. An hour of threading, poking, probing, rethreading, and convincing aging eyes to cooperate was probably more aggravation than the job was worth financially, but that really wasn’t the point.

I already had a replacement sitting in the garage. I simply saw no reason to throw away something that could still be made serviceable. Now the old umbrella gets another season, or however long the Western Pennsylvania winds decide to permit, and the new one stays safely in reserve.

By 8:46, the old haymaker was certainly making up for the questionable start to the morning. That deck was absolutely flooded with sunshine at that point of the morning.

The repaired umbrella may have picked exactly the right morning to return to active duty.

Shortly after finishing the umbrella repair my friend Bob from Greensburg called to ask if he could stop by and borrow my pressure washer. I told him he was more than welcome to and then asked what time he had in mind, because I had to go to the market to pick up some gluten free flour and corn meal. He ended up stopping by around 3:00 pm to pick it up and after a brief bit of chit chat he was on his way home. I didn't let him leave with just the pressure washer though. I also packed up a couple of the shortbread dessert cups, some lemon curd, and some fruit and berry medley to take home for him and his wife to share later today.

Preparing for Dinner

A good portion of the day was devoted to preparing for the dinner I had planned with my daughter, son-in-law, and Neal.

One consideration throughout the menu was accommodating my son-in-law's gluten-free diet. Among today's cooking discussions was the question of what to do with some of the zucchini I had available. I considering fried zucchini planks, but wanted both a gluten-free coating and a way of preventing the zucchini from becoming limp shortly after frying.

My thoughts centered on removing excess moisture from the zucchini before breading and using crisp gluten-free alternatives rather than conventional flour and breadcrumbs. The concern wasn't simply making something technically gluten-free, it was making something everyone at the table could enjoy without the finished product becoming soggy.

That fit into the larger pattern of preparation I had already been working through for this meal: adapting recipes where necessary while still serving essentially the same food to everyone rather than making my son-in-law feel as though he was eating a completely separate menu.

The timing of dinner also worked out better than originally expected. I had believed today was the first day of school for students, but discovered that students do not return until next week. Today was instead the first day back for teachers and staff.

Since both my son-in-law and Neal teach in the Norwin School District, that made it possible for everyone to arrive considerably earlier than anticipated. Rather than the original 5:00-ish dinner, everyone was able to gather at approximately 4:00 PM.

That proved especially fortunate because Neal had another commitment later and needed to leave at around 5:30 PM. The earlier meal gave him plenty of time to eat comfortably, participate in the conversation, and offer his usual contribution to the discussions without anyone feeling rushed.

Dinner on the Deck

Despite the morning uncertainty about the weather and the possibility of rain, the deck won after all.

The photographs show the table surrounded by family and friend, with plates of fresh garden tomato , basil, garlic and olive oil sauce, salad, bread, drinks, and some chicken thighs dipped in seasoned gluten free flour, then dipped in a n egg and buttermilk wash, then finished in gluten free seasoned panko. The atmosphere was wonderfully informal, all of us eating, talking, and lingering at the table rather than treating dinner as something simply to get through.

Most importantly, the meal went exactly as planned and everyone was pleased with the menu.

The dessert experiment from the preceding days also made its appearance: the gluten-free shortbread-style cups filled with lemon curd and fresh fruit and berries.

After all the testing, improvising, and adapting that went into those, seeing them actually being eaten at the table made the experimenting worthwhile.

There was clearly a good deal of thought, preparation, and attention to detail involved in making tonight happen. Once it was over, however, I felt that the effort had been more than justified.

7:15 PM — Back to the Evening Watch

By 7:15 PM, everyone had gone home and I finally made my way back outside to the deck with what was my final cup of coffee for the day.

The work was finished.

The kitchen was cleaned, leftovers had either been put away or sent home with people, and everything that needed to be returned to order appeared to be where it belonged.

The sun had almost disappeared, but the evening sky was still inviting.

Clouds remained overhead, yet the temperature and humidity had dropped and the breeze had picked up somewhat, leaving me sitting comfortably at the table, and in no particular hurry to go inside.

That quiet period after dinner brought with it another kind of reflection.

For a few moments I reflected on just how much work had gone into preparing the meal, but also how worthwhile that work became when there are people around the table. Spending so much time alone these days has changed the value of occasions like this. Having people nearby, talking, laughing, discussing things, eating something I've made, has increasingly become one of the highlights of a day.

And then, almost suddenly, the house and deck become quiet again.

Everyone left to return to whatever it is they needed to do, and I found myself once again sitting alone in the evening solitude.

I wondered whether I was gradually becoming accustomed to that solitude. Perhaps I am. But evenings like this one seem to make that adjustment a little easier.

The day began with uncertainty beneath a cloud-filled eastern sky, wondering what the weather would allow and what sort of day lay ahead.

It ended with dinner successfully served outdoors after all, family and a friend gathered around my table, everyone well fed, the kitchen cleaned, and me once again seated quietly on the deck, as Wednesday gradually gave way to evening.

All things considered, that made all the preparation worthwhile.

August 20, 2026

From a Soggy Beginning to a Quiet Evening

The day began at about 5:30 AM under thoroughly discouraging conditions. It was 67° with 95% humidity, a barely noticeable southeast breeze around 2 mph, and everything outside was soaked from overnight rain. The deck and furnishings were covered with standing water, and the forecast suggested rain would continue through much of the day and into the following days.

The morning was already emotionally difficult, and the gloomy weather did little to improve the mood.

By morning light, the rain had settled into a steady, persistent pattern that continued until around lunchtime.

There was little reason to even consider going outside, and it appeared the squeegee team would remain off duty.

One bright spot came while standing near the patio doors watching a squirrel discover the cashews placed on a rock about 40 feet from the deck. For roughly 15 to 20 minutes, the squirrel repeated the same routine: grab a cashew, nibble on it, run only a few feet away, bury it, then return for another. The process continued until nearly all the cashews had either been partially eaten or hidden nearby.

The little fellow proved entertaining enough to warrant a series of photographs and raised the question of how squirrels possibly remember where they bury all of their treasures.

Some practical work was accomplished during the morning as well. The annual real-estate taxes were paid, leaving only the seemingly simple, but potentially forgettable, task of getting the envelope into the mail.

The afternoon largely disappeared into what began as a nap and turned into something considerably longer. Upon finally waking fully at about 5:45 PM, there was genuine disbelief at how much of the day had vanished. After a morning already marked by emotion and dreary weather, losing most of the afternoon to sleep added to the feeling that the entire day had somehow been wasted.

There was, however, one welcome surprise: the rain had stopped and the sun was shining.

The amount of rain that had fallen was evident everywhere. A small bowl sitting uncovered on the outdoor table, roughly an inch and a half deep, had filled completely with water. The deck and all of the furniture were thoroughly saturated.

Dinner was kept simple with a bowl of soup, after which the squeegee team was reluctantly called into action for an unusual evening shift. They were apparently less than pleased about being summoned after normal working hours, but eventually the accumulated water was pushed from the deck and furnishings, making it possible to finally sit outside.

By 7:23 PM, conditions had improved dramatically. The temperature was about 72°, humidity around 82%, and there was only a light northeast breeze around 3 mph.

The sky had transformed from the gray, rain-filled ceiling of the morning into an unexpectedly bright blue evening.

Sitting on the deck brought mixed feelings. There was still some frustration over having slept away such a large portion of the afternoon, yet the peaceful evening offered a chance to regroup and enjoy what remained of the day.

At about 8:09 PM, a phone conversation with my daughter turned toward upcoming family responsibilities. We discussed when we would make cookies for the August 29 celebration of life, along with possible dinner arrangements for the arrival of family from out of state, including my son and his three sons.

My daughter was eager to begin planning, while the response was essentially that such planning still felt too far in advance. That led to the rather stark observation that there is little point in worrying excessively about tomorrow because none of us really knows what tomorrow will bring. It was not intended as a grim statement so much as an expression of an increasingly present philosophy: the older I get, the less useful it seems to spend too much time worrying about what has not yet happened.

By then, the evening had cooled enough that a light jacket was becoming necessary.

At 8:18 PM, the sun had disappeared completely and the sky was transitioning fully into night.

The remaining clouds held soft streaks of peach and gold near the horizon while the upper sky deepened into blue. The moon, which had been subtle earlier, grew increasingly noticeable as twilight advanced.

The day that began with rain, darkness, standing water, emotional heaviness, and little promise ended instead with a cleared deck, a calm sky, a brightening moon, and a quiet seat outdoors.

Perhaps the day was not quite as wasted as it first seemed.

There was rain watched, wildlife observed, paperwork completed, taxes paid, family plans discussed, a late shift worked by the squeegee team, and ultimately a peaceful evening reclaimed from an otherwise dreary Thursday.

August 21, 2026

The day began damp, foggy, and considerably cooler than it would eventually become. Early this morning, after heading into the kitchen for that first cup of coffee, I noticed immediately that there must have been more rain overnight.

The deck, patio furniture, and surrounding surfaces were all coated with moisture, reflecting the light from the porch lamp.

As I looked toward the back of the property, several deer began crossing the road from the neighbor’s yard into ours, passing beneath the large oak tree near the rear of the property.

Considerable fog still hung over the landscape, adding another atmospheric opening to the morning.

By about 6:31 AM, the temperature was 59°, humidity was 95%, and there was only the slightest northeast breeze at around 2 mph. Despite the wet and foggy beginning, the forecast held considerable promise: sunshine was expected throughout the day, something I was more than willing to welcome after so much recent gray and unsettled weather.

Eventually, the “squeegee team” went to work on the deck. Their effort may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but it was sufficient to remove most of the accumulated moisture and allow me to resume my morning watch outdoors at around 7:52 AM.

Only a few minutes later, however, the peacefulness of that watch was interrupted by the sound of someone cutting grass. Given how wet everything still was, I found myself wondering why anyone would choose that particular time to mow. Apparently whoever was doing it may have had reasons of their own, but from my perspective it seemed unnecessary and irritating, particularly after finally regaining the quiet of the morning.

The balance of the day turned out to be fairly uneventful, although I did manage to take care of several things that needed attention. Shortly before lunchtime, I removed a load of laundry from the dryer, folded it, carried it upstairs, and put everything away. I also spent some time at the computer catching up on financial matters.

Much of the afternoon was spent sitting on the deck. At several points, I found myself struggling to keep my eyes open. After having slept away virtually the entire afternoon the previous day, however, I was determined not to repeat that performance.

By about 3:30 PM, when my eyelids were becoming particularly heavy, I convinced myrself that the best solution was simply to get up and do something. I grabbed my keys, got into the car, ran it through the car wash, then towel-dried it and did a little minor detailing afterward. The excursion accomplished exactly what I hoped, it got me moving and prevented another long afternoon nap.

After returning home, I had another dinner assembled from leftovers.

By 5:49 PM, I was once again seated at the deck table with my meal finished and the day having transformed completely from the damp gray beginning of the morning.

The temperature had climbed to a very comfortable 77°, humidity had fallen to just 54%, and a gentle northeast breeze of about 4 mph was moving through the area. The sky had become a brilliant blue, the lawn and surrounding vegetation looked freshly washed and intensely green, and the entire backyard had taken on the appearance of a particularly fine late-summer evening.

My dinner was simple but substantial: a baked potato, broccoli, a piece of breaded chicken and a glass of iced tea,

all enjoyed outdoors with the expansive view beyond the deck.

There may not have been any major accomplishments today, but the day was hardly wasted. The laundry was taken care of, financial matters were addressed, the car was cleaned, I successfully avoided losing another afternoon to sleep, and was able to enjoy both the wildlife of the early morning and a remarkably pleasant evening outdoors

.

By late afternoon, I was fairly certain I would remain on the deck for as long as I could keep your eyes open, or until darkness finally made the view disappear.

Taken as a whole, today seemed to be one of those quieter days that probably felt insignificant while it was happening, yet still contained many of the familiar pieces of my daily life: coffee, weather, watching deer in the yard, the squeegee team, a little irritation from neighborhood noise, ordinary household chores, an ongoing battle with afternoon sleepiness, and finally the reward of sitting beneath a clear August sky as another day wound down.

August 22, 2026

Another August Day in the Life

The day began later than most of my morning watches. At 7:18 AM, I realized that I had slept considerably later than usual. I had awakened several times earlier but simply couldn't convince myself to get out of bed. Finally, around 7:00, the daylight pouring into the bedroom caught my attention. After pulling back the drapes and realizing that the sun was already above the horizon, I quickly dressed, headed toward the kitchen and patio doors, and managed to capture several photographs of what remained of the morning sunrise.

The morning was shaping up to be an especially pleasant one. The temperature was about 61°F, humidity was 89%, and there was only a very light south easterly breeze of roughly 3 mph. Considerable dew had collected on the deck and furniture overnight, but it didn't appear serious enough to require deployment of the full squeegee team; I figured a few paper towels would probably be sufficient to get myself outdoors.

Once the morning watch was underway, the wildlife began making its usual appearances. At 7:49 AM, the turkeys emerged from the wooded area behind the hillside and field to the east

and began their familiar morning migration across the road into my neighbor's yard.

Not long afterward, my squirrel friends provided the entertainment. I watched their remarkable speed and agility as they raced and leapt around the property. One squirrel in particular headed toward the roadway, apparently noticed an approaching car, and instantly reversed direction, turning what seemed like 180 degrees on a dime and racing back toward the tree.

Watching them, I concluded once again that the little creatures occasionally seem capable of defying the laws of physics.

By 8:34 AM, the sun had climbed high enough to clear the nearby tree line. Its warmth felt especially welcome. With a freshly topped-off cup of coffee, smooth jazz coming through the open patio doors, pleasant temperatures, and sunshine on the deck, I considered it just about an ideal way to begin a Saturday.

At 8:42, the old haymaker continued its climb and was gradually drying the moisture from the deck furniture. Considerable dew still remained on the railings, however, and even those areas receiving direct sunlight seemed to sparkle as the morning light reflected from the water droplets.

Ten minutes later, at 8:52, technology allowed me to inspect the garden without surrendering my comfortable seat. A look through the garden camera showed additional tomatoes ready to be harvested.

I was fully aware they needed attention, but decided they could wait. At that particular moment, I was perfectly content sitting exactly where I was.

Those tomatoes eventually sent the morning in an unexpected culinary direction.

Several garden tomatoes were sitting on the deck table ripening in the sunshine, which reminded me how fond my daughter and son-in-law are of fresh garden-tomato sandwiches. My son-in-law's need to avoid gluten now complicates something as simple as a tomato sandwich, so I began wondering whether it would be possible to make a good gluten-free sandwich bread, something that actually feels and tastes like bread rather than cardboard. 

After taking stock of what I already had available, the project became considerably more practical.

Among my supplies were Krusteaz Gluten Free All Purpose Flour, almond flour, and white rice flour. Examination of the Krusteaz ingredients showed that it already contained several grains and starches as well as the critically important xanthan gum, meaning there was no need to go looking for a separate binder. The decision was therefore to use the Krusteaz blend as the foundation of the loaf, with a modest amount of almond flour for moisture and richness.

Somewhere along the way the day's enduring culinary description was born: the goal was to make a gluten-free loaf that did not resemble putting a garden tomato between “two pieces of drywall.” 

I didn't merely consider the experiment, I went ahead and made it.

By 12:15 PM, after spending roughly an hour preparing the bread, the loaf was in the oven at 375°F, where I intended to leave it for approximately 45 minutes before checking its progress. With the baking underway, I poured myself a tall glass of iced tea and returned to the deck.

The weather remained absolutely gorgeous, and I found yourself thinking that I should absorb as much of it as possible while it lasted.

That last thought would prove rather prophetic later in the afternoon.

By 2:30 PM, the loaf had cooled sufficiently for the verdict.

The experiment was unquestionably more successful than the dreaded cardboard, or drywall, alternative. It had a pleasant flavor, but its crumb was quite different from ordinary white sandwich bread. I would compare the texture somewhat to cornbread without the corn flavor, and found it extremely moist, almost like a sweet bread.

It wasn't necessarily something I would bake regularly for myself, but the real test would be my son-in-law's reaction. If he likes it, the experiment may well earn another round. Or at a minimum, a copy of the recipe.

Needless to say this latest baking adventure would require a bit of quality control testing,

so I prepare myself a tomato sandwich and a bowl of wedding soup for a satisfying lunch on the deck.

The afternoon also included some kitchen housekeeping involving the remaining Italian wedding soup. Because I had eaten a particularly filling late lunch, I wasn't even sure I would bother with dinner.

I divided the remaining wedding soup among three containers for distribution to family and friends. Fortunately, I had stored the pasta separately from the meatballs and broth, preventing the pasta from absorbing everything and becoming mushy. The refrigerated stock had become almost gelatinous because of how much the bones and trimmings had reduced, so I added another quart of bone broth to loosen it.

Each container ended up being quite substantial, approximately a quart of broth, a couple of cups of pasta, and around ten meatballs, enough for two servings or, two meals for one person.

By 3:04 PM, I had returned to the deck and reached what I would describe as a state of total relaxation.

While sitting there, my thoughts shifted ahead to next week's preparations for my sister-in-law's celebration of life. My daughter and I are definitely planning to make lady locks, but I also began thinking about Chinese almond cookies, which have long been one of myr son-in-law's favorites.

Once again, gluten became the puzzle.

Because I've been using almond flour recently, I wondered whether it might work in the almond cookies. But experience with my traditional recipe made me suspicious. That dough is already exceptionally soft and normally has to be refrigerated before it can even be handled. Replacing ordinary flour entirely with almond flour seemed likely to make matters worse, possibly producing what I rather appropriately feared might become “almond chips” instead of almond cookies.

The better approach was to retain structural flour, either ordinary flour for the traditional version or a gluten-free all-purpose blend for a GF version, and use almond flour only as part of the mixture. For a fully gluten-free version, a starting ratio of roughly three parts gluten-free flour to one part almond flour seemed considerably safer, along with chilling the dough thoroughly and baking a couple of test cookies before committing an entire tray.

For much of the afternoon, meanwhile, the weather remained so pleasant that the severe-thunderstorm alerts appearing on my phone seemed almost ridiculous.

While sitting outside, my son called from North Carolina, and the two of us talked for about 40 minutes. I asked him about the Outer Banks jazz festival held in October, and mentioned that I was considering perhaps making a trip down for it.

His response was immediate: he has been trying to get me to attend that festival for years and couldn't understand why I was suddenly entertaining the idea now.

I reminded him that considering something and actually making plans are two very different things.

The conversation then broadened into another possibility I've been exploring: perhaps renting a beachfront property in the Outer Banks for an extended period during the winter months. At this point, however, the asking prices I've seen are nowhere close to what I'm prepared to spend. So, like the jazz festival, it remains an idea rather than a commitment.

Then, sometime shortly before 5:45 PM, the peaceful Saturday afternoon underwent an extraordinary transformation.

Only twenty minutes or so earlier, looking east across the back of the property, I had been seeing blue sky punctuated by billowing white clouds.

That was why the severe-weather warnings appearing on the phone had been so difficult to take seriously.

The problem, I soon realized, was that I had been watching the wrong horizon.

The storm was approaching from the west, behind me and on the opposite side of the house.

At approximately 5:45, the sky darkened extraordinarily quickly. The blue disappeared behind a wall of gray, the temperature dropped noticeably, and a few large raindrops began falling. At first it wasn't much, but that didn't last long.

The rain soon intensified enough that you could hear it hammering the deck and everything on it. Because the weather warnings had included the possibility of hail, and because some of the impacts sounded considerably harder than ordinary rainfall, I wondered whether hail might already be mixed into the storm.

Shortly before that, I had also spoken briefly with my daughter, who was shopping with a friend somewhere near Greensburg, east of me. In a striking illustration of how localized the storm was, she reported seeing essentially blue skies and a few clouds while conditions at my location were deteriorating rapidly.

I warned her about what was coming and suspected that, if she hadn't already started home, she might encounter some considerably less pleasant weather on the return trip.

By 6:15 PM, any thought of an evening watch had been abandoned.

The storm continued in waves, heavy rain for a while, then a period of relative calm, followed by another burst of intensity. At times the thunder was powerful enough to send vibrations through the exterior walls of the house.

Instead of sitting at the deck table, as I had for so much of the day, I was standing inside at the patio doors looking out upon a completely rain-soaked deck. The umbrella was closed, the furniture was drenched, the sky had turned gray, and Mother Nature had rather emphatically brought Saturday's outdoor activities to an end.

The thread running through the day

What stands out about this August 22 is the remarkable contrast between its beginning and its end.

It started slowly, a late awakening followed by sunrise photographs, turkeys crossing the road, squirrels seemingly violating the laws of physics, smooth jazz, coffee, sparkling dew and the warmth of the old haymaker. It moved almost effortlessly into one of those wonderfully ordinary days in which garden tomatoes lead to bread experiments, bread leads to lunch, leftovers become meals for friends and family, and sitting quietly on the deck leads to thoughts about cookies I'll soon bake with my daughter.

There was also just a little looking toward the future: an October jazz festival, perhaps some winter time on the Outer Banks, and preparations for next weekend's family gathering. None of it required a decision today. They were simply possibilities being allowed to exist.

Then, within a little more than twenty minutes, that beautiful blue Saturday afternoon disappeared beneath a wall of storm clouds.

Perhaps the line I wrote at lunchtime captures the day better than I could possibly have known when I wrote it:

I need to take in and absorb as much of this gorgeous weather as I can, while I can...

August 23, 2026

Todays Reflection Summary

The day began around 6:30 AM under conditions that seemed almost completely different from the beautiful weather of the previous day. Heavy gray clouds covered the sky, the temperature was 62°F, humidity stood at 96%, and a light west wind of about 5 mph offered some hope that the cloud cover might eventually break.

The deck and everything on it were thoroughly soaked, making another deployment of the trusty “squeegee team” necessary before any outdoor sitting could begin. The forecast suggested sunshine might eventually arrive during the afternoon, giving at least some reason for optimism.

By 9:33 AM, conditions were already improving faster than expected. The temperature had risen to 64°F, humidity had fallen slightly to 92%, and a stronger 7 mph west wind was beginning to break apart the clouds and give the “old haymaker” an opportunity to make an appearance.

With the deck dried sufficiently, the morning watch resumed with coffee and smooth jazz while another experiment was already underway in the kitchen: a batch of gluten-free Chinese almond cookies.

The cookie dough proved every bit as soft and pliable as feared.

After an initial period in the refrigerator, however, it became firm enough to shape into a log,

which was wrapped tightly in plastic and moved to the freezer for another 10–15 minutes. That additional chilling worked remarkably well.

When the dough came out, it sliced almost perfectly, with clean cuts and virtually no crumbling. The cookies were returned briefly to the freezer before baking at 325°F, with a light egg wash added beforehand. Rather than topping them immediately with almonds, the plan evolved into dipping half of each finished cookie in chocolate and coating it with crushed toasted almonds.

At 10:59 AM, the improving weather had become enjoyable enough for another cup of coffee on the deck,

beneath the umbrella, accompanied, as usual, by jazz and considerable anticipation over what was happening in the oven. At 11:24 AM, the cookies finally emerged.

They required almost 12 minutes longer than the conventional all-purpose-flour recipe and spread considerably more than hoped, although not enough to ruin the batch. The conclusion was that a future attempt would benefit from making the cookies somewhat smaller while maintaining the same spacing.

The aroma was excellent, but the real question was texture.

By 12:07 PM, all that baking had worked up an appetite.

Lunch became a roast-beef sandwich on a potato roll with mayonnaise, fresh tomato, red onion and horseradish, accompanied by Cape Cod potato chips for the necessary crunch.

After lunch came some outdoor work. Several flowerbeds were weeded, the gravel driveway was sprayed with weed killer in an effort to deal with the seemingly impossible abundance of weeds growing through stone, the sprayer was cleaned, and plants in the small greenhouse along the southern side of the house were watered.

Then came the first serious quality control test of the gluten free almond cookies.

The verdict was mixed. They were certainly edible and reasonably successful as gluten free cookies, but they came nowhere near the familiar all purpose flour version. Despite using almond flour and adding extra almond extract, the interior was unexpectedly soft and somewhat cake like rather than crisp and cookie like. That was particularly disappointing given a lifelong preference for cookies baked well beyond what many people would consider ideal, cookies that are not merely crisp but sufficiently hard that, if dropped, they ought to shatter rather than simply break.

That triggered one of those small but vivid memories of Fran. She would occasionally decide cookies that had sat in the cookie jar for some time had become too old and ought to be discarded. The response was invariably that she was losing her mind, because that was when they were finally good, hard as a rock and ready to shatter. Fran, in turn, would insist that such preferences were the polar opposite of those held by “normal people,” leaving the obvious philosophical question of exactly how one defines normal.

Hoping to rescue some of the missing crunch, sliced almonds were toasted in the oven at about 350°F, cooled and crushed. The cookies were then partially dipped in a combination of milk and dark chocolate and coated generously with the toasted almonds.

The treatment was visually successful and definitely improved both flavor and texture. The hardened chocolate and toasted nuts added considerable bite and crunch, but even then the cookies still did not compare with the original recipe.

Sometime during the afternoon, an unplanned nap took over. At around 6:30 PM, a phone call from my daughter woke me, and by 7:03 PM I was reflecting on the day’s gluten free experiments. Both had technically succeeded, but neither had converted me.

At about 4:00 PM, dinner had consisted of the remaining pasta with fresh garden tomatoes, garlic and basil.

When only the tomato rich juices remained in the bowl, a slice of the recently baked gluten-free bread was placed underneath to soak them up. It performed that particular duty well enough, but the final judgment remained similar to that of the cookies: perfectly acceptable when gluten free food is necessary, but nothing I would deliberately make for my self when conventional bread remains an option.

Later in the evening, the gluten free bread and almond cookies were packed up and taken to my daughter’s house. I returned home at approximately 8:00 PM, but the short trip unexpectedly became one of the photographic highlights of the day.

Deer seemed to be everywhere.

During the drive I estimate taking three to four dozen photographs, ranging from individual deer

to small family groups

and ultimately gatherings large enough to look almost like a herd.

Several of the photographs showed does accompanied by still spotted fawns, while others captured larger groups moving through the grass and wooded areas. There were far too many photographs to evaluate immediately, leaving a future project of reviewing them, discarding the weaker images and editing the better ones.

The most impressive individual sighting came upon pulling into my daughter’s driveway. In a field perhaps 100 yards away, or somewhat farther, a large buck stood with a substantial rack.

The distance prevented a sufficiently sharp photograph for an accurate count, but visually it appeared possible that he carried eight to ten points, perhaps even more.

The evening then provided one final surprise in the continuing gluten free saga. Upon entering my daughter’s house to deliver the bread and cookies, I discovered that my grandson had baked gluten free brownies from a boxed mix.

Unlike the day’s bread and almond cookie experiments, these were genuinely impressive. They had none of the texture or flavor characteristics that had made the other gluten free foods seem like compromises. I complimented my grandson both on his baking effort and his choice of product, because the brownies were excellent enough that I would have had difficulty objecting to them on gluten free grounds at all.

Possible theme for today’s blog

If there is a thread connecting the entire day, it may be experimentation, comparison and unexpected rewards.

The morning began gray and unpromising but gradually turned beautiful. A familiar almond cookie recipe was pushed into unfamiliar gluten free territory and succeeded technically without replacing the original. The bread met much the same fate. An afternoon nap arrived without invitation. A simple delivery to my daughter became an extraordinary wildlife excursion, and after spending much of the day trying to create gluten free foods, that could compete with their conventional counterparts, the unquestioned winner appeared unexpectedly in the form of brownies baked by my grandson.

Perhaps the simplest conclusion is the one that kept emerging throughout the day:

Some substitutes are perfectly good when they are needed, but the real deal remains the real deal, except, apparently, when my grandson makes brownies. 

August 24, 2026

Monday Morning — A Dreary Start

The day began at 6:45 AM with a first cup of coffee and a disappointing view through the patio doors. The deck and furniture were once again covered with standing water from overnight rain,

while the sky was a familiar slate gray.

The temperature was 56°F, humidity 96%, with a 5 mph southwest breeze.

The forecast called for partly sunny to cloudy conditions with no rain expected, but the morning itself offered little encouragement. Rather than rushing outdoors, I decided to work through a cup or two of coffee before waking up the “squeegee team” and drying off the deck.

I also outlined several priorities for the day: locating the doctor’s office for my long-awaited 9:00 AM appointment Tuesday morning, possibly stopping at a home-improvement store to revisit the idea of replacing the patio door, and picking up ingredients needed for cookie baking ahead of my sister-in-law’s celebration of life on Saturday.

Morning Watch — Too Cool for Comfort

By 7:14 AM, I had made my way onto the deck, but quickly realized that the morning was simply too cool to settle in comfortably for a prolonged morning watch.

Even so, there was activity around the property. Wild turkeys had moved out of the wooded area beyond the garden and were slowly making their way toward the road and my neighbor’s yard. Several squirrels were already darting around in their usual erratic fashion.

Traffic on the road above the house remained relatively light, butmy thoughts turned toward the approaching start of the school year on Wednesday. With the schools nearby, I was already anticipating, and dreading, the return of heavier traffic, buses, noise, and activity that will interfere with the quiet summer mornings I’ve grown accustomed to.

The photographs from the morning captured the damp deck, subdued sky, and peaceful landscape before the day became busier.

Afternoon Errands — Preparing for Tomorrow and Saturday

Shortly after lunch, I headed out to locate the doctor’s office for tomorrow morning’s appointment. Rather than simply finding the building, I went inside and located the exact office so there would be no uncertainty or unnecessary stress in the morning.

On the way home, I stopped at a big box home improvement center hoping there might be a better option for the patio door I’ve been considering. That proved disappointing. Inventory was limited, and most of the doors that might have interested me would have required online ordering. The visit did little to improve upon the price or options I had already encountered.

From there, I stopped at the grocery store and purchased what I believe we will need when my daughter and I begin making cookies for Saturday’s celebration of life.

An Unexpectedly Good Rotisserie Chicken

While shopping, the aroma of freshly prepared rotisserie chickens caught my attention. They appeared fresh enough that I decided to bring one home.

After putting away the groceries, I cut up the chicken and steamed some broccoli for dinner. The meal turned out considerably better than expected. Unlike many store bought rotisserie chickens that become dry after sitting under heat lamps, this one remained moist and flavorful, an uncomplicated but very satisfying dinner after a busy afternoon.

Getting Ready for the Doctor

Following dinner and cleanup, I prepared coffee for tomorrow morning and began gathering the paperwork I expect to need for the appointment.

I also searched for the drug-information sheets associated with my current prescriptions, assuming the doctor may want to review them. Before going to bed, I plan to put all of the paperwork and medical information together in one place so everything is ready to go.

A Long Conversation with Your Son

While I was eating dinner, my son called from North Carolina, and the two of us talked for roughly 45 minutes.

I asked who would be coming with him for my sister-in-law’s celebration of life this Saturday. He wasn’t certain, and although I didn’t say anything to him about it, I found my self somewhat perplexed. From my perspective, the occasion is important enough that I feel the entire family should make an effort to attend.

I also reminded him to bring the paperwork for the car I purchased for him in late May or early June. The plan is to go to the notary on Friday and formally transfer the title.

The Question of Helping Adult Children

As often happens during conversations between parents and adult children, the discussion eventually turned toward money, how difficult life has become, and the question I increasingly dread hearing: whether I might be able to make another loan.

That led to one of the more reflective parts of the day.

Over the past several years, I have made significant efforts to help my children financially, investing both time and money when they needed assistance. Lately, however, I’ve begun wondering whether that help is becoming too easily expected, whether I am gradually being viewed as a personal banker.

I recognize that life is genuinely expensive and difficult for many people today. I also recognize that I'm fortunate enough to be financially stable. But that stability did not happen accidentally.

For more than 50 years, Fran and I made our own way. We scraped, saved, did without, avoided spending foolishly, and learned to distinguish between things we wanted and things we actually needed. There were many times when even the things we needed didn't come to fruition. We lived with the hope that someday things would become easier financially.

In retrospect, I reflected that perhaps the “someday” Fran and I waited for, never really arrived, at least not while she was here to enjoy it.

That makes the current situation emotionally complicated. I feel obligated to help my children because I can do so without seriously harming my own financial position, yet another part of me wonders whether continually providing financial assistance prevents them from developing the fiscal discipline and responsibility that Fran and I had no choice but to learn on our own.

I found myself considering whether a measure of tough love may finally be appropriate, not because I no longer want to help, but because help without limits may eventually stop being helpful.

Evening Watch — Finally a Chance to Sit Down

By 7:05 PM, I was finally back on the deck, for the first time since around lunchtime.

The contrast with the morning was considerable.

The gloomy slate gray sky had given way to patches of blue and large clouds, and the landscape looked considerably brighter and more inviting.

After a hectic day of locating the doctor’s office, visiting the home improvement center, grocery shopping, preparing dinner, cleaning up, organizing for tomorrow, and spending nearly an hour talking with my son, the evening offered my first real opportunity to simply sit quietly.

The day began with disappointment over the weather but ended under a much more attractive sky, and with quite a bit accomplished in between.

August 25, 2026

A morning that finally brought some hope

The most significant part of the morning was my appointment with the new urologist. Considering how long and frustrating this entire situation has been, I went into the visit understandably apprehensive, particularly because so much of the testing and treatment associated with the catheter has been uncomfortable and, at times, humiliating.

What distinguished today's appointment almost immediately was the thoroughness of the staff. I was first interviewed by a nurse and then by two physician assistants before finally seeing the doctor. As I explained what had happened during the preceding weeks and months, both physician assistants seemed puzzled that some testing they considered fairly fundamental had apparently never been done.

After conferring with the doctor for approximately 15 to 20 minutes, they returned and explained that additional testing was necessary before they felt comfortable making any further decisions. Although I certainly wasn't enthusiastic about undergoing still more procedures, I agreed to have the testing performed immediately rather than postpone it yet again.

The important difference today was that, for perhaps the first time in quite a while, the visit seemed to offer some genuine hope that there may finally be a path toward getting rid of the catheter and all of the equipment associated with it.

After returning home, my son called from North Carolina almost as I was pulling into the driveway to ask how things had gone. Not long afterward, I also called my daughter, who had specifically asked me the previous evening to let her know what happened. Those conversations were a reminder that, although I have been dealing personally with all of this discomfort and uncertainty, my family has been following it closely as well.

Family history, photographs and a few old memories

Another thread today involved looking back through family history and photographs. During that process I recalled conversations with my aunt concerning her husband Peter and some of the projects with which he had apparently been involved.

One particularly intriguing recollection involved discussion of James Bond's Aston Martin. The memory was somewhat fragmentary, I was reaching back through conversations heard many years ago, but it was one of those details that suddenly resurfaces while examining old photographs and causes an entirely new line of curiosity to open.

It became another example of how photographs often function as considerably more than pictures. One photograph can lead to a person, the person to a story, and the story to something you hadn't thought about for decades.

3:39 PM — A nearly perfect afternoon on the deck

By mid afternoon the day had taken on a completely different character.

At approximately 3:39 PM, I was sitting on the deck enjoying weather that I described as absolutely fantastic.

It was tempting simply to remain there for the rest of the afternoon, but eventually the list of things I wanted to accomplish began competing with the pleasure of doing absolutely nothing.

One of those projects was the roasted corn chowder I had been planning.

Before beginning the soup, I roasted six ears of corn, and the corn itself turned out to be remarkable.

While cutting the kernels from the cobs, I couldn't resist sampling some of the slabs of kernels as they came away from the cob.

No butter. No salt. No seasoning.

And yet I thought it may very well have been some of the best corn I had ever eaten.

That was certainly encouraging considering that it was about to become the principal ingredient in the chowder.

Making the chowder gluten-free

During preparation I encountered one small adjustment. The original recipe called for three tablespoons of flour as the thickening agent, but because I wanted the chowder to remain gluten free, I replaced the flour with cornstarch.

That became another small addition to the growing collection of gluten free adaptations I've been experimenting with recently for family meals.

6:33 PM — Chowder completed and back outside

By approximately 6:33 PM, the chowder was finished and I had once again made my way to the deck.

The finished bowl certainly looked the part:

roasted corn, potatoes, peppers and a thick, hearty broth, accompanied by bread and something cold to drink while I sat outside enjoying what remained of a beautiful day.

There was, however, one deliberate departure from the original recipe.

The recipe apparently wasn't intended to contain much heat from the peppers, but I decided that adding two medium Hungarian wax peppers might give the chowder a little additional character. I balanced those with the sweeter bell peppers already going into the soup.

That turned out to be an inspired modification.

Rather than making the chowder overtly hot, the wax peppers added just enough background heat to make themselves known without overwhelming the sweetness of the roasted corn.

Quality control becomes dinner

Then came the official quality control portion of the experiment.

The photographic record leaves very little ambiguity about the verdict.

There was one bowl.

Then another.

And eventually there was essentially nothing left but the empty bowl and spoon.

Two bowls later, I was quite comfortable declaring the experiment a success and putting the roasted corn chowder squarely into the category of:

“You've gotta make this again.”

The Hungarian wax peppers will almost certainly remain part of my version of the recipe. With only two medium peppers in the entire quantity of chowder, the heat was exactly where I wanted it, present enough to provide an interesting kick but sufficiently restrained that the flavor of the roasted corn remained dominant.

The ever-expanding recipe collection

The success of yet another recipe also led to a rather amusing realization: the recipe binder is rapidly approaching the point where a bigger binder, or several binders, is going to be necessary.

I began considering dividing the collection into categories and perhaps maintaining several separate binders. That sounds like the sort of project perfectly suited to a rainy day.

Of course, the binder represents only a tiny fraction of my actual recipe collection.

I have accumulated recipes for years, so many digitally stored recipes that at one point the collection filled three DVDs, and I now have them stored on a solid state drive attached to the desktop computer. I estimate that I probably possess more recipes than I could ever prepare in ten lifetimes, perhaps even a hundred.

That prompted another family memory.

Some months ago, when my brother-in-law came over, I gave him a slice of coffee cake I had made the previous day. After eating it, he looked at me and said:

“Tony, when your time comes, I want you to leave me the recipe books.”

All I could do was laugh.

Considering the volume of recipes involved, he may not have fully appreciated what he was volunteering to inherit.

7:52 PM — One final show in the southern sky

Just as I was preparing to close out the outdoor portion of the day, put away the seat cushions and head indoors, something in the southern sky caught my attention.

The photograph explains why.

A massive dark layer of cloud stretched across the upper portion of the sky, while beneath it softer clouds were illuminated with peach, pink and gold from the remaining evening light. Between those layers appeared an unusually defined opening, almost as though a void had formed in the clouds.

I pictured it as something resembling a black hole. The darker clouds seem almost to wrap around the brighter opening, giving the scene considerably more depth than an ordinary evening cloud formation.

And so a day that began in a doctor's office ended in a place far more familiar: standing on the deck with a camera, looking upward and noticing something in the sky that might easily have gone unnoticed by someone else.

From here, the evening became quieter. The cushions were put away, a few dishes still needed attention in the kitchen, and then I made my way downstairs to the family room/office to decide which pieces of the day deserve a place in tonight's blog.

Taken as a whole, there are several natural blog entries hiding in today's material:

the hopeful turn at the doctor's office; family photographs and the stories they awaken; the extraordinary roasted corn and successful chowder experiment; the absurd size of the recipe collection; and finally this unusual cloud formation as the day's closing image.

It was a day that began with uncertainty and ended with an empty soup bowl, a dramatic sky, and perhaps a little more hope than I had when it started.

August 26, 2026

Early Morning — Dew, Weather, and the Work Ahead

The day began around 6:40 AM with a first look through the patio doors. The temperature was about 58°F, humidity was extremely high at 96%, and there was only a light southeast breeze of roughly 3 mph. The deck and nearly everything on it were coated with considerable dew, evident even from the footprints left while walking across it to take photographs.

The forecast offered some promise, with a projected high around 79°F and mostly cloudy conditions expected to give way to a mixture of sun and clouds later in the afternoon. Although the deck was wet enough to require attention, it wasn’t yet clear whether the full squeegee team would be necessary.

More important than the weather was the realization that preparations for Saturday’s celebration of life for my sister-in-law needed to begin in earnest. With company scheduled to arrive Friday afternoon, getting a head start on the cooking and baking had become one of the day’s priorities.

The First Day of School Announces Itself

By 7:58 AM, the neighborhood had changed completely.

The beginning of another school year became unmistakable as school buses passed the house one after another for more than an hour.

The normally quiet road suddenly carried considerably more traffic than I had become accustomed to during summer.

The activity was accompanied by the sound of a police siren coming from the west and heading toward the middle-school area. Given the longstanding problem of motorists ignoring stop signs around the schools, I suspected township police were actively enforcing the traffic laws.

That brought up an irritation that has existed for years. There are numerous stop signs, school-zone warnings, and pedestrian crossings concentrated within a very small area, yet motorists routinely fail to obey them. This morning, however, township police were highly visible.

Several patrol cars passed the house within minutes, apparently making it clear that violations would not simply be overlooked.

My reaction was essentially: it’s about time.

Why the Neighborhood Becomes So Busy

A map of the area helps put all that traffic into perspective.

Our home sits remarkably close to a concentrated school complex containing an elementary, intermediate, middle and high schools, essentially four schools within the same general campus area. The district bus depot is also located nearby, at the bottom of the hill from the high school.

That means the neighborhood isn’t simply near a school, it sits beside an entire educational and transportation hub.

There is some irony in finding the traffic irritating now because that same location was one of the major reasons the property was so appealing when the house was built in 1984. Having spent much of my life in education, I understood how important school activities would eventually become to our children. Living there allowed both of them to walk throughout their public school years rather than depending on a bus, and they could usually be home within five or ten minutes.

What was an enormous convenience then naturally looks a little different now. These days, the quieter mornings have become something I treasure.

Fortunately, the heavy traffic tends to disappear once the students have arrived and the buses return to the depot.

8:23 AM — The Morning Finds Its Soul Again

By 8:23 AM, the frenzy was already beginning to subside.

I returned to the deck with my coffee as sunshine continued drying everything that remained damp from the heavy overnight dew. The squeegee team had handled the earlier work, and now the sun was taking over.

With smooth jazz drifting outside through the open patio door, the atmosphere once again became familiar: warm sunshine, a drying deck, coffee nearby, and time to sit quietly and consider what the remainder of the day might bring.

After the buses, sirens and traffic, it felt as though the soul of the morning had returned.

Morning Into Afternoon — The Almond Cookie Project Begins

After a trip to the market, attention shifted toward the major kitchen project of the day: preparing Chinese almond cookies for Saturday’s celebration of life.

The dough was mixed and then refrigerated.

Once sufficiently chilled, it was divided and formed into logs, wrapped tightly in plastic and returned to the refrigerator for a second chilling period.

The decision was made to give the dough a substantial amount of refrigerator time, possibly an hour or two, both to make slicing easier and to help the individual cookies maintain their shape during baking.

The photographs show the progression clearly: mixed dough, divided portions, shaped logs and finally four wrapped cylinders resting on a baking sheet.

A Simple Late Lunch on the Deck

At approximately 1:00 PM, I prepared a late lunch consisting of a roast beef sandwich topped with garden tomato, onion and horseradish sauce, accompanied by chips and iced tea.

It was uncomplicated, quick to assemble and entirely satisfying.

Afterward, I returned to the deck and continued my afternoon watch, while waiting for the cookie dough to finish chilling.

The weather had become particularly enjoyable, bright sunshine, blue sky and almost a late-summer feel allowing me to spend several hours outdoors between stages of the baking project.

The Recliner Strikes Again

At approximately 2:30 PM, with the cookie dough safely chilling, I went into the living room and sat down in the recliner with the intention of resting for only a few minutes.

Predictably, the recliner had other plans.

When I opened my eyes again, it was approaching 5:30 PM.

What was intended as a brief break had turned into roughly a three hour nap. Fortunately, there was no harm done to the project. If anything, the additional chilling time ensured that the cookie logs were thoroughly firm before slicing.

Late Afternoon and Evening — Baking Gets Underway

Once awake, I resumed work immediately.

The logs were removed from the refrigerator and sliced into individual portions.

The photographs show particularly clean, relatively uniform cuts,

followed by the cookies being arranged on parchment lined baking sheets with enough room to spread.

Each received its characteristic sliced almond in the center before baking.

The chilled dough did exactly what I hoped it would do: the pieces retained reasonable shape while spreading enough in the oven to become rounded cookies rather than losing all definition.

By the end of the baking session I had produced three full trays of Chinese almond cookies.

Dinner on the Deck

Amid the baking and cleanup, dinner was deliberately kept simple.

I ate soup with buttered bread while sitting outside on the deck.

Nothing elaborate was necessary after spending so much of the day working with cookie dough and baking sheets.

Despite its simplicity, the meal was satisfying, and eating outdoors made it particularly pleasant.

8:00 PM — One Last Look Outside

Somewhere around 8:00 PM, I stepped outside briefly and photographed the evening.

The sky initially displayed fairly soft, diffused color near the horizon, but as sunset approached the colors intensified noticeably.

Pink, peach and muted lavender began spreading along the horizon above the increasingly dark tree line, creating a dramatic contrast with the deepening blue overhead.

It became one of those evenings when lingering outside for just a few additional minutes paid off.

8:30 PM — Cookies Finished

By approximately 8:30 PM, the Chinese almond cookie project was finally complete.

There was still some kitchen cleanup and cookie storage to handle, but the most time consuming portion of the project was behind me.

Despite the unplanned three hour nap, the day had still been surprisingly productive: shopping completed, dough mixed and chilled, cookies formed and baked, dinner enjoyed outdoors, and a considerable portion of Saturday’s preparation checked off the list.

Closing the Day

The plan for the remainder of the evening was straightforward: finish cleaning the kitchen, properly store the cookies and then head downstairs to the family room/office to work on the blog before finally calling it a day.

Looking back, today contained an interesting progression.

It began with heavy dew and uncertainty about the weather, moved into the sudden noise and commotion of a new school year, then gradually reclaimed its quiet as the morning traffic disappeared. The middle of the day became a balance between kitchen work and long stretches of beautiful weather on the deck. There was an unexpectedly lengthy afternoon nap, followed by several hours of baking, a simple outdoor dinner, and finally a colorful sunset.

Perhaps the thread tying the whole day together was that the interruptions never really spoiled it. The buses eventually disappeared, the wet deck eventually dried, the cookie dough patiently waited through the nap, the baking still got finished, and the evening sky supplied one last reward before darkness arrived.

August 27, 2026

A Full Day, Start to Finish

The day began with another early morning watch and a close eye on the weather. Conditions were cool and damp, with plenty of moisture left behind overnight, but there was considerable promise in the eastern sky.

Eventually the sun began working its way above the tree line, and by around 8:00 AM the morning had taken on the bright, comfortable character that makes sitting on the deck so difficult to give up.

There was wildlife activity as well. The neighborhood turkeys appeared to be gathering for their usual morning crossing, but apparently the Turkey Transit Authority had revised the route.

Rather than following their familiar path across the roadway behind the property, they crossed farther up through the middle school parking lot and continued into a neighbor’s yard, a route I don’t recall seeing them use before.

As enjoyable as the morning was, eventually work had to begin. The major project was preparing lady locks for Saturday’s celebration of life. I rolled out the pastry dough, cut it into individual portions, wrapped the strips around foil-covered clothespins, brushed each one with egg wash, and rolled them in coarse sugar before baking.

There was one small delay when I discovered that although I had turned the oven on to preheat, I had neglected to actually press the start button. That provided an unexpected excuse to return outdoors for a few more minutes while the oven finally came up to temperature.

The first sheet turned out well, and I continued with the second, ultimately preparing approximately 40 lady locks.

I need at least two dozen for Saturday, although with another box of pastry dough still in the freezer, the possibility of making even more remains open depending upon how ambitious I feel.

By late morning the sunshine had become especially enjoyable. Sitting outside with the warmth of the sun and the comfortable morning air reinforced just how much I have come to appreciate these bright, peaceful morning watches. The older I get, the more valuable mornings like this seem to become.

By around 11:30, with the lady locks baked, I was already thinking ahead. I considered preparing the filling but decided not to actually fill the pastries yet because I don’t want them becoming soggy before Saturday.

Attention then shifted toward the garden and preparations for the weekend. With family arriving from out of state and Saturday evening shaping up as another family gathering, I wanted to take advantage of the abundance of ripe garden tomatoes and prepare one of the family favorites, the fresh tomato, garlic and basil sauce.

Before tackling that project, however, lunch became necessary. Around 12:30 I returned to the deck with something to eat and enjoyed another opportunity to take advantage of what was still an exceptionally pleasant day outdoors.

Not long after 1:00 PM, the tomato sauce project began in earnest. Tomatoes were blanched and peeled, garlic was peeled and finely diced, and basil leaves were stripped from their stems. Several particularly long basil stems were saved and placed in water in hopes that they will develop roots and eventually provide additional plants for the garden.

What sounds like a relatively simple preparation turned into several hours of steady work. Between harvesting, blanching, peeling, chopping, cleaning and organizing, the afternoon disappeared quickly.

By approximately 5:50 PM I was still going full steam ahead. At that point I began debating whether I should keep pushing while daylight remained or finally sit down for a while. Sitting was somewhat dangerous territory because experience has demonstrated repeatedly that sitting down, particularly in the recliner, can very easily turn into several unintended hours of sleep.

Dinner therefore needed to be something relatively quick and uncomplicated.

Eventually I settled on doing a little “quality control” work on the sausage, peppers, onions and mushrooms that had already been prepared.

I added sliced yellow tomato from the garden with a little balsamic glaze, and shortly after 7:00 PM finally sat down to eat.

By then the weather had undergone quite a transformation.

Earlier in the afternoon, rain arrived accompanied by thunder and lightning intense enough to become genuinely impressive. For a while I began wondering whether I should head down into the garage and search for some of the old flotation devices left from the days when the garden area was occupied by a swimming pool.

Given the amount of rain falling, I even entertained the idea of scouting the neighborhood, presumably while wearing a life jacket, to find male and female representatives of all the neighborhood wildlife in preparation for what appeared to be the beginning of a great flood.

Fortunately Noah’s services were not required.

The worst of the storm lasted only about an hour, and what followed may actually have been better than what came before it, and what came before it had already been pretty damn good.

The temperature dropped, the humidity decreased, and a noticeably stronger breeze developed. By dinner time the deck had once again become an exceptionally comfortable place to sit.

At 7:38 PM I was still outside, determined to squeeze as much as possible from what had turned into a wonderful day. After the intensity of the afternoon storm, the evening was calm, cool and beautiful.

The evening watch would probably have to end shortly, however, because there remains some unfinished business downstairs in the family room/office.

Last night I fell asleep before making yesterday’s blog entries and didn’t wake until approximately 1:30 AM. By then I was completely exhausted and simply didn’t have the wherewithal to start writing.

So tonight there are effectively two days waiting for attention.

Still, looking back over today, it is difficult to complain. There was sunshine, wildlife, baking, garden harvesting, several hours spent preparing one of the family’s favorite tomato sauces, a little quality, control work at dinner, a rather dramatic thunderstorm, and finally another beautiful evening on the deck.

A very full day indeed, and one worth squeezing every last minute out of.

August 28, 2026

From a Quiet Morning to a Full Family Evening

The day began on a very favorable note. I got out of bed at around 6:30 AM and immediately started knocking out a few household chores, including some vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. At around 7:30, I sat down to watch the news for a little while, which turned out to be a tactical mistake. I apparently fell asleep in the chair and didn’t wake again until around 8:30.

Outside, the morning was looking quite promising. The temperature was around 65°, the humidity was still high at 93%, and there was a light northeast breeze at about 3 mph.

The sky was clear and blue, and the sun was already strong enough that I suspected the old haymaker might take care of much of the moisture on the deck and furniture before the squeegee team had to be called into action.

I also had several kitchen projects in mind for the day. Dinner was going to consist of sausage, peppers, onions and mushrooms on hoagie rolls, along with homemade macaroni and cheese. I was considering making a run to a local farm market for some fresh corn, although I wasn’t sure whether that would actually happen.

One unexpected accomplishment from the night before helped considerably. While trying to work on my blog, I became increasingly irritated when the day’s photographs were painfully slow to download from the cloud. Rather than sit and stare at the screen, I finally went back into the kitchen and prepared the filling for the lady locks. I put it into a container and refrigerated it, leaving only the actual filling of the shells for later tonight or tomorrow morning.

By around 11:15 AM, I finally had an opportunity to sit outside at the deck table. As it turned out, there was no need to wake the squeegee team at all. I had been too busy indoors to sit outside earlier, and the old haymaker had done the drying for me.

By then the temperature had climbed to about 73°, with a feels like temperature around 79°. Humidity had fallen to 76%, and the light northeast breeze made for a very pleasant late morning respite.

I had already prepared two casserole dishes of homemade macaroni and cheese for dinner earlier on in the morning.

At that point, I still had not heard from my son and was beginning to wonder about his arrival. He had said the day before that he expected to arrive shortly after noon, so as the clock moved toward lunchtime I was hoping he and the boys were simply somewhere along the final part of the trip.

One of the first orders of business after his arrival was going to be transferring the title on the car I purchased for him earlier in the summer. The car was still titled in my name and I was still paying the insurance, even though the vehicle itself was living several hundred miles away in North Carolina.

I also wanted to stop at either the Italian market or another store on the way home to pick up some proper hoagie rolls. My quality control sampling the night before had been done on a hotdog bun, which worked well enough for scientific purposes, but I definitely wanted something sturdier and more respectable for the real dinner.

Before going outside, I had also started a second load of laundry and knew that sometime within the next hour I would need to remember to move it into the dryer assuming I remembered it existed.

At around 1:00 PM, I started becoming a little nervous because my son and his two boys had still not arrived. Fortunately, within about half an hour, they walked through the door.

After a little time spent talking and getting settled, my son and I headed out to take care of the car title transfer. With that finally completed, we stopped at the Italian market and picked up some fresh sausage buns for dinner.

Once we returned home, I asked my grandsons what time they wanted to eat, and they suggested around 4:00 PM. Right on schedule, we sat down to dinner.

The meal consisted of sausage, peppers, onions and mushrooms piled onto the fresh rolls, along with homemade macaroni and cheese. I also served garden tomatoes and cucumbers dressed with a little balsamic. It turned out to be exactly the kind of straightforward, hearty family dinner I had hoped for.

After dinner, the evening expanded into something much larger and more spontaneous.

I called my daughter and told her we had talked about going for ice cream at the country custard shack. I asked whether she and the guests staying with her might like to join us. Everyone was apparently in favor, so I told her we would come over around 6:00 PM. Because there were too many of us to fit into one car, the plan was to meet at her house and head out from there.

While I was at my daughter’s, my brother-in-law called and said he was standing at my house wondering where I was. I told him where we had gone and invited him and his wife to join us as well.

They did.

What started as a simple ice cream trip quickly turned into a much larger family gathering. We all ended up at the custard shack,

enjoying cones and dishes of ice cream while sitting together on the porch in the beautiful early evening weather. The photographs capture the scene especially well, a whole collection of people gathered together, talking, eating ice cream, moving from one conversation to another, and simply enjoying being together.

After all of that activity, I eventually returned home and found myself once again sitting quietly on the deck.

The weather remained very comfortable, although I could already tell the temperature was beginning to cool enough that a light jacket might become necessary before too long.

The yard was settling into the softer colors of evening, and after a day filled with cooking, errands, family arrivals, dinner, the title transfer, and an impromptu ice-cream gathering, I suddenly found myself alone again with my thoughts.

I’m hoping to make some blog entries earlier than usual tonight and perhaps actually get to bed at a reasonable hour for once.

Whether that happens, of course, remains to be seen.

But looking back over the day, what began as a quiet, productive Friday morning gradually turned into a full family day, one of those days that wasn’t necessarily planned in detail, but somehow came together exactly the way it needed to.

August 29, 2026

Linda’s Celebration of Life

A Quiet Start Before an Emotional Day

Saturday began with a house full of family but almost complete silence. I was once again the first awake, poured my first cup of coffee, and stepped outside for a preview of the day.

It was 53°F with 88% humidity and a light northeast breeze around 4 mph. The forecast called for sunshine throughout the day and a high near 80°, which seemed about as favorable as possible for Linda’s celebration of life and the family gathering planned afterward.

I knew there was still work ahead. The Lady Locks needed to be filled and packaged alongside the Chinese almond cookies before leaving for church.

At the same time, the beautiful morning and the quiet deck was tempting me to remain outside for a while.

7:20 AM — Second Coffee and the Old Haymaker

By 7:20 I had finished my first cup and started another.

The early sunshine was beginning to push through the trees, and I was torn between sitting outside to settle some of my anxiety about the day and going indoors to finish the baking preparations before the rest of the house awakened.

I also wondered whether the Squeegee Team might have to report for duty to dry the deck table.

Knowing how hectic things would become once everyone was awake, however, I decided that getting the Lady Locks finished was probably the wiser move.

8:32 AM — Morning Baking Update

By 8:32 the major morning mission was accomplished.

The Lady Locks were filled, and both they and the Chinese almond cookies were packaged and ready to go.

I finally made my way back outside to the deck table for what I expected would be only a limited morning watch.

By then the sunshine had become quite intense and there was virtually no cloud cover whatsoever. Better yet, everything outside had dried sufficiently that there was no reason to awaken the Squeegee Team.

I jokingly noted that I would be awaiting their thank-you card later in the day.

Just before going outside, I heard some activity coming from the bedroom area, suggesting that at least one other member of the household was beginning to stir.

While cleaning the piping bag, with my hands naturally covered in icing, my friend Bob from Greensburg called to verify which church Linda’s service would be held at.

During the conversation, Bob also told me that John and his wife Marlise, longtime close family friends who now live in Colorado, had traveled in for the service.

John and Marlise had once been neighbors of Linda’s family, and their children had essentially grown up alongside my nieces, nephew and my own children. I was genuinely pleased to hear that they had made the trip.

With the baking completed, I settled onto the deck with another cup of coffee while waiting for the household to wake, fully expecting that once the grandsons appeared in the kitchen, my culinary services would probably be requested again.

Around 9:30 AM — Grandpa’s Kitchen Opens

By approximately 9:30 everyone was awake and preparing for what I expected would be a rather emotional day.

I asked whether anyone wanted breakfast. My son and middle grandson declined, but my youngest grandson Cooper was ready to eat.

I prepared four thick slices of French toast along with scrambled eggs containing peppers, onions, tomatoes and seasoning.

I ate one piece of French toast and a small portion of the eggs.

Cooper, the youngest and tallest grandson, took care of essentially everything else, proving once again that when he says he is hungry, he means it.

Around 10:30 AM — Leaving for Linda’s Service

Everyone began preparing to leave for church.

My son and his two boys took their own vehicle because they planned to leave directly from the banquet facility at approximately 2:00 PM to begin their trip home.

After loading the cookies into my car and getting myself appropriately dressed, I left knowing that the next several hours could become quite an emotional roller coaster.

Arriving at Church — John and Marlise

Almost immediately upon reaching the entrance to the church, I encountered John and Marlise from Colorado.

Seeing them was particularly meaningful because of the long history between our families.

Their two sons had essentially grown up alongside Linda’s children and ours. Tragically, their oldest son was killed at approximately 20 or 21 years old when his vehicle was struck by a drunk driver.

Their lives were understandably changed forever, yet through everything they have remained among the kindest, most generous, caring and compassionate people I have known.

Their making the trip from Colorado for Linda’s service meant a great deal to me.

Shortly afterward, Bob and his wife Barbara arrived, and I spent some time talking with them before entering the church.

Linda’s Funeral Mass

Our longtime family friend Father John, who had presided over Fran’s funeral Mass, was unfortunately ill and unable to officiate Linda’s service.

Instead, the resident priest from the Catholic church in Irwin handled the Mass.

There was considerable continuity in that. It was the same church where Fran and I had been married many years earlier and where Fran’s own funeral service had later been held.

Although the priest had not known Linda particularly well, I felt he did a phenomenal job.

Noon to About 3:00 PM — Linda’s Celebration of Life

Following the Mass, everyone traveled to the celebration-of-life venue only a couple of miles away.

I remained there for approximately three hours, talking with seemingly everyone, catching up with old friends and relatives, reliving stories and sharing memories.

Although everyone had gathered because of Linda’s death, the afternoon was not entirely somber. It also became a genuine celebration of her life and an opportunity for people who had not seen one another in far too long to reconnect.

And then there were the cookies.

There seemed to be tables upon tables upon tables of them, occupying virtually every available space.

Despite that enormous competition, approximately half an hour after I delivered my cookies, every one of the Lady Locks was gone, and a substantial portion of the Chinese almond cookies had disappeared as well.

After several days of preparation, I allowed myself a deserved pat on the back.

Apparently the Lady Locks had passed their ultimate quality-control test.

Around 3:00 PM — Racing Home for the Evening Shift

I left the celebration around 3:00, not because it had ended, but because I needed to prepare food for the family gathering that evening at my brother-in-law’s house.

The plan included my garden tomato, garlic, basil and olive-oil pasta, fand fried pizza dough for dessert.

On the drive home I realized that my car was nearly out of gasoline, requiring an unscheduled stop and putting another dent in your already tight schedule.

The Deep Fryer Demands Attention

Once home, I looked at the deep fryer and concluded that the old oil really needed to be changed.

That consumed another 45 minutes to an hour while I drained the old oil, cleaned the fryer thoroughly and prepared it for transport.

At that point something had to give.

The fried macaroni and cheese became the casualty of the schedule.

There simply wasn’t enough time.

The Three-Pound Pasta Decision

I then turned to the pasta.

What began as approximately two pounds somehow became three pounds, resulting in an enormous quantity.

I ended up with two large containers of pasta already mixed with some of my fresh garden tomato, garlic, basil and olive-oil sauce, plus additional sauce on the side for anyone wanting more.

Fortunately, the sauce itself had already been prepared and was waiting in the refrigerator.

Preparing the Fried Dough

I pulled out the pizza dough, stretched it into a large sheet and carefully cut it into individual portions.

Those portions were placed on a flour-dusted cookie sheet and covered so they could be transported without difficulty.

At least that was the theory.

The Fryer Cord Mystery

Before leaving, I made a special mental note that the fryer’s electrical cord absolutely had to come along.

I placed it directly on top of the fryer.

I distinctly remembered loading it into the car alongside the fryer and fresh oil.

Upon arriving at your brother-in-law’s house and unpacking everything:

No cord.

I was understandably annoyed and was preparing to drive all the way back home to look for it.

Then my brother-in-law mentioned that he had a fryer cord and wondered whether it might work.

Miraculously, it did.

One unnecessary round trip had been avoided.

Pizza, Pasta and a Lot of Food

My brother-in-law had ordered five 16-cut pizzas along with two enormous trays of garden salad.

Combined with the three pounds of pasta and everything else, there was food in abundance for the roughly 25 to 30 people gathered at the house.

Even with that many people eating, there was still quite a bit left when the evening ended.

The Great Fried-Dough Merger

When the pizzas arrived, additional space was needed.

The covered tray containing my carefully portioned pizza dough was moved to the top of the refrigerator in the garage.

That turned out not to be a particularly good decision.

By the time I was ready to fry the dough, all those carefully separated pieces had risen and fused themselves into one enormous mass.

I tried to cut everything apart again, but with limited success.

The finished product certainly wasn’t pretty.

My assessment, however, was considerably more important:

It tasted pretty good.

Under the circumstances, that qualified as success.

Conversations That Mattered More Than the Food

The evening eventually became less about eating and considerably more about talking.

There were numerous conversations about family, events from years past and memories shared by people who simply do not see one another often enough.

A recurring thought emerged:

It is unfortunate that families sometimes see one another most often when something bad has happened.

I spent considerable time talking and reminiscing with Cathy and her husband Tom from Long Island. Cathy was the youngest daughter of Frans cousin Josie, on her moms side of the family.

They are people I regard as extraordinarily kind, thoughtful and compassionate, and I repeatedly encouraged them to come visit sometime under much better circumstances and perhaps stay for a week.

Because they are both still working, I realize such a visit may not happen soon, but I very much hope it eventually does.

Cathy and Tom were the ones who sent me the Scarlet Crape Myrtle that my son in law Ian planted in remembrance of Fran, and their thoughtfulness in doing that has remained particularly meaningful to me

I would someday like to find some way of reciprocating, not necessarily by matching the gift itself, but by expressing how much their gesture has meant.

Around 9:00 PM — Heading Home

I finally left my brother-in-law’s house at approximately 9:00 PM.

By then most people had already departed.

My niece Stacey had to move her vehicle so I could get out of the driveway, and the two of us left at roughly the same time.

My niece Lindsey and nephew Scott were still there when I left, so I had no idea how much longer the gathering continued.

Back Home — One More Cleanup

Arriving home still didn’t mean the day was finished.

I unloaded the leftovers, cookware and utensils I had brought back, then went upstairs to deal with the kitchen mess left from the frantic preparations earlier in the afternoon.

Only after that was finished could I finally stop.

Around 10:00 PM — The Recliner Wins

At approximately 10:00 PM I finally sat down in your recliner.

I fell asleep almost immediately.

I awakened around midnight, got up, walked around for a while and drank a glass of orange juice.

Then I returned to the recliner.

Predictably, I fell asleep again.

The next time I awakened it was approximately 4:30 Sunday morning.

I actually debated whether there was any point in going to bed at that hour, but eventually decided that probably remained the better option.

Looking Back on August 29

The contrast between the beginning and end of the day was remarkable.

It started before 7:00 AM with 53-degree air, coffee, sunshine beginning to appear through the trees and a silent house filled with sleeping family.

I was anxious about what the day might bring emotionally.

From there came the completion of the Lady Locks, Bob’s phone call, breakfast with Cooper, Linda’s Mass, the unexpected reunion with John and Marlise from Colorado, Bob and Barbara, hours spent reconnecting at the celebration, the spectacular cookie table and the gratifying disappearance of every Lady Lock I had made.

Then came an entirely different second shift: gasoline, three pounds of pasta, a deep-fryer oil change, abandoned fried mac and cheese, a mysteriously missing electrical cord, five pizzas, enormous salads, self-reassembling pizza dough and another house filled with relatives and friends.

But the strongest theme running through the entire day probably wasn’t the food or even the hectic schedule.

It was people showing up for one another.

People traveled great distances. Old friends appeared. Families reconnected. Stories were told. Memories of Linda and Fran resurfaced. And people once again recognized how unfortunate it is that so many family reunions happen because someone has died.

For a day I approached with considerable apprehension, August 29 ultimately became a day containing grief, certainly, but also friendship, family, laughter, generosity, food, remembrance and connection.

And perhaps the most fitting image of all is the enormous cookie table at Linda’s celebration with every one of those 40 Lady Locks disappearing within about half an hour.

After all the work that went into them, that was one very small but satisfying victory on one very large day.

August 30, 2026

A Reflective Morning, Family Visit, Summer Heat, and an Unexpected Dinner Guest

Sunday began quietly at around 8:00 AM after what had been an exhausting and emotional Saturday surrounding Linda’s celebration of life. The night before, after finally getting home around 9:00 PM, there were still dishes to wash and some basic housekeeping to take care of after having a house full of guests. Once everything was reasonably back in order, the living-room recliner proved irresistible. Sleep came almost immediately, followed by a brief awakening around midnight for a glass of orange juice and then another stretch of sleep until roughly 4:00 AM. Although there was some debate about simply beginning the day at that hour, returning to bed ultimately won out, allowing for a few more hours of much-needed rest before waking again around 7:30.

The morning itself showed considerable promise. At 8:00 AM the temperature was 66°F with humidity at 92% and only a very light breeze. Despite all that moisture in the air, the deck was completely dry, meaning the ever-reliable squeegee team received an unexpected Sunday morning reprieve.

Coffee and smooth jazz accompanied the beginning of the morning watch as a substantial layer of clouds hung overhead, although there was enough brightness along the horizon to suggest that the sun might eventually make an appearance.

By 9:17 AM, the old haymaker had begun fighting its way through the cloud cover, turning what had initially looked like an uncertain morning into something considerably more inviting.

While working on a third cup of coffee, thoughts naturally drifted back toward the previous day. Spending so much time reminiscing with family and friends at the celebration of life brought with it a considerable amount of reflection about how astonishingly quickly the years seem to pass. Entire decades of experiences can somehow feel compressed into only a handful of memories, prompting some serious consideration about the passage of time and what to do with however much of it remains.

As the morning continued, the sunshine became increasingly dominant. The changing angle of the light created some especially interesting patterns of light and shadow across the deck, railing, table, and surrounding landscape.

The plants on the deck were also looking remarkably healthy this late in the summer, particularly the basil, including several cuttings that had been placed in water in hopes that they might develop roots.

At one point, a squirrel provided an unexpected bit of entertainment near the garden. He briefly perched atop a small post associated with the underground electrical cable running from the house toward the old pool area.

Unfortunately, the appearance was so sudden that there wasn’t time to have the camera ready. By the time the opportunity was recognized, the little fellow had apparently decided his modeling session was over.

A few garden-camera images nevertheless managed to document at least part of his brief visit.

Around 10:30 AM, a missed phone call from Kim was discovered. The phone ringer had apparently remained turned off since entering the church for Linda’s service the previous day. After returning the call, it turned out that cousin Justin and his family were preparing to leave Kim’s house and begin their trip home to New Jersey. Before leaving the area, however, they wanted to stop by and see the swimming-pool garden.

They were, of course, more than welcome. Before their arrival, a small collection of road-trip provisions was quickly assembled: snack bars, apples, homemade granola, Ghirardelli chocolate bites, peanut-butter crackers, Coke, water, and even four plastic cups unearthed from the garage pantry. The cups might not have been perfectly suited to automobile cup holders, but they would certainly serve their purpose.

There was also a desire to give Justin’s two daughters some small keepsake before they left. After considering what might be appropriate, a stack of two-dollar bills in a drawer came to mind. Since they are unusual enough that the girls might never have seen one before, one was set aside for each of them as a little something unexpected to remember the visit by.

The garden-camera images taken during their visit captured some wonderful reactions as Justin and his family walked around the old swimming-pool garden, looking over the various raised beds and plantings.

From their perspective, they were seeing the entire transformation, once an area that had been devoted to a swimming pool now packed with vegetables, herbs, and growing beds. The photographs showed everyone stopping, looking, talking, and genuinely taking in the space rather than simply passing through it. It made for a particularly nice final visit before they began their trip back to New Jersey.

By around 1:12 PM, the family had gone and the deck once again became the place to enjoy what had developed into an unexpectedly beautiful Sunday afternoon. The morning clouds had largely given way to bright summer sunshine, making it hard not to sit beneath the umbrella and soak up as much of the day as possible.

The weather changed rather dramatically as the afternoon progressed. By 1:47 PM the temperature had climbed to 84°F while humidity had fallen all the way to 58%.

Some darker and rather threatening-looking clouds had begun moving in from the northeast. They did not appear to be producing significant rainfall at the time, but they certainly suggested that a shower was not entirely out of the question.

Ironically, despite sitting beneath the umbrella, the changing position of the sun meant that the deck had become almost completely enveloped in sunshine. After spending much of the day outdoors, the heat had finally become enough that lunch was eaten indoors rather than at the deck table.

At around 2:00 PM, the heat finally prompted a retreat to the living room and the recliner in an effort to cool down for a while. Predictably, sitting down proved dangerous. Sleep came almost immediately, and what might have been intended as a short rest turned into a substantial three-and-a-half-hour nap.

It was approximately 5:30 PM before waking again. Hunger had become rather noticeable by then since very little had been eaten during the day. While checking the phone, there was also a reminder that a text had earlier been sent to Neal. He had replied saying that he expected to be home at around 3:00 PM, but that message had arrived while the recliner nap was well underway. Another text was sent explaining that several hours of unexpected sleep had prevented an earlier response.

Neal soon replied that he would be up within a few minutes to pick up some food that had already been set aside for him. When he arrived, it became apparent that he had not yet eaten dinner. Since dinner was going to be prepared anyway, an invitation was extended for him to stay and eat.

He needed very little convincing.

The two of us ended up having dinner together outside on the deck, enjoying both the food and approximately an hour of good conversation. What had begun simply as Neal stopping by to collect some leftovers turned into one more pleasant and completely unplanned part of the day.

Before he headed home, another meal was packaged for him for the following evening, some additional pasta along with sausage and peppers tucked into a hoagie roll. He was clearly appreciative and headed home with tomorrow’s dinner already taken care of.

Once Neal left, the familiar end-of-day routine began. The kitchen was cleaned, the dishes were washed, and everything was put back into reasonable order.

From there it was finally down to the family room/office, where the larger task awaited: catching up on two days’ worth of blog entries.

Looking back over the entire Sunday, the day unfolded without much of a plan yet somehow managed to contain a little bit of everything. It began with quiet reflection about yesterday, Linda, family, memory, and the unsettling speed with which the years seem to pass. It moved into a beautiful and increasingly sunny morning, an unexpected visit from Justin and his family, an opportunity to share the garden and send them home with a few treats and memories, an almost-too-hot afternoon, a decidedly serious recliner nap, and finally an impromptu dinner with Neal.

For a Sunday that began with little more than coffee, smooth jazz, and curiosity about what the day might bring, it turned out to be a rather full one, and perhaps appropriately, one centered far more around people, conversation, memories, and simple moments than anything that had appeared on a to-do list.

August 31, 2026

I got a fairly productive start to the day. By late morning I had finished breakfast, consisting of Greek yogurt, pears, granola, and chia seeds, run two loads of laundry through the washing machine with one already in the dryer, and vacuumed the entire upper floor of the house, including the kitchen, dining room, living room, hallway, and bedrooms.

I also managed to get through what used to be the relatively simple process of taking a shower and getting dressed. These days, with the additional medical equipment involved and everything that has to be disconnected, changed, cleaned, and put back into place, something that once required little thought has turned into quite a production. It was another reminder of some of the strange roads aging can take us down, when ordinary everyday tasks begin requiring considerably more time and effort than they once did.

Later in the morning, while continuing my watch from the deck table, I remembered that I still had an entire casserole of homemade macaroni and cheese left over from the weekend. My original intention had been to turn it into individual fried crab mac-and-cheese appetizers for Saturday, but there simply hadn’t been enough time.

Since time was no longer the problem, I decided that today might be a good day to finally tackle the project. The one complication was that my deep fryer was still at my brother-in-law’s house. I had left it there Saturday because it was still filled with hot oil, and attempting to transport it home in that condition seemed like an exceedingly bad idea.

I also remembered that I still had several pounds of chicken wings in the refrigerator that had originally been intended for my son and grandsons over the weekend. Since those never materialized either, I began thinking that once the fryer was back home I might put it to double duty.

I had eaten Parmesan-style wings several times in restaurants but had never tried preparing them myself, so I spent some time considering different approaches to them.

Around mid-afternoon I drove over to my brother-in-law’s house to retrieve the fryer. What I expected to be a relatively short visit turned into a considerably longer one, when my sister-in-law asked for some help with her computer.

She wanted to know whether I could print some photographs from her nephew’s wedding in July. I told her that would be easy enough if she simply emailed the files to me and told me what size she wanted them printed.

The only problem was that getting the photographs into an email turned into about an hour’s worth of computer tutoring.

The pictures were actually located on the photographer’s website and apparently stored online rather than sitting somewhere obvious on her computer. Eventually I was able to walk her through locating the photographs she wanted, saving them into a folder, and then attaching and sending them to me in an email.

So sometime in the next day or two I’ll apparently be adding wedding-photo printing to the list.

After returning home, I took out the trash, emptied the garbage cans in the kitchen, office, and laundry room, and replaced all the bags.

Shortly afterward I made my way back onto the deck.

The skies remained fairly cloudy and looked as though rain might eventually develop, but nothing was happening at the time. In fact, without the sun beating down and with a comfortable breeze moving through, it was actually quite pleasant outdoors.

Apparently it was a little too pleasant, because I managed to doze off several times in the deck chair and woke up on at least one occasion with my face resting on the table.

That peaceful mid-afternoon period ended rather abruptly when the school-day exodus began.

Around 2:50 PM the buses started moving in and out of the high school, middle school, and intermediate school, bringing with them the familiar collection of diesel engines, shifting transmissions, and general commotion.

The quiet solitude of the previous few hours disappeared almost instantly.

Since sitting outside was no longer particularly peaceful, I decided it might be a good time to head indoors and get started on the crab mac-and-cheese project.

Because there was far more macaroni and cheese than I could possibly eat within a few days, I decided to prepare all of the appetizers, bread them, and freeze most of them before frying. That way I could cook them fresh whenever I wanted them rather than frying everything and trying to preserve the crisp coating afterward.

The production line quickly took over the kitchen.

I mixed crab meat into the homemade macaroni and cheese,

formed the mixture into individual balls, dipped them in egg, and coated them thoroughly in seasoned Panko and Parmesan.

By the time I finished, I had an entire sheet pan covered with breaded crab mac-and-cheese bites.

They turned out remarkably uniform considering I was forming them by hand.

The tray went directly into the freezer so they could freeze individually before being transferred into bags or containers.

There were three that initially wouldn’t fit on the tray, and I jokingly decided that perhaps those three had volunteered themselves for quality-control duty.

That number ultimately increased somewhat.

Meanwhile, the chicken wings had become another matter requiring attention. Since they were already thawed, I decided it was probably wiser to cook them rather than leave them sitting in the refrigerator for another day.

I removed the wings from their packaging, dried them thoroughly, placed them on a sheet pan, and left them uncovered in the refrigerator for about an hour so the skin could dry further before frying.

Once they were ready, I seasoned them with Montreal chicken seasoning, garlic powder, salt, pepper, and a sprinkling of paprika.

Into the deep fryer they went at 350°F.

After about ten minutes they were finished.

The crab mac-and-cheese bites followed and required only about four minutes in the fryer.

The end result was considerably better than I had expected.

The wings came out beautifully crisp while remaining juicy inside. By the time I made my way out to the deck with dinner they had cooled just enough to eat comfortably.

I broke one apart to check it and immediately had one of those unmistakable “OMG” moments.

They were excellent.

The Panko and Parmesan coating became deeply golden and extremely crunchy, while the inside retained the creamy cheese and the individual mini pasta shells.

The filling stayed completely intact rather than leaking into the fryer, which had been one of my concerns.

Cutting one open confirmed that the experiment had worked exactly as I had hoped.

By 6:48 PM I was sitting at the deck table enjoying dinner outdoors.

The wings, the Parmesan-crusted crab mac-and-cheese bites, and a bottle of Yum Yum sauce were all sitting on the table in front of me.

As it turned out, the name on the bottle pretty accurately summarized my opinion of the entire meal.

Yum Yum indeed.

What began as an effort to use up a leftover casserole and finally cook some wings that never made it onto the weekend menu turned into one of the more successful kitchen experiments I’ve had recently.

At some point during the day I received a phone call from Fran’s cousin Justin, who had come from New Jersey with his wife and two daughters for Linda’s celebration of life on Friday.

Originally, Justin and his family had planned to stay at my house, but once I realized my own family would be arriving from North Carolina, those arrangements changed and they ended up staying at my daughter’s house instead.

Before they returned home on Sunday, they had called and asked if they could stop by to see my garden. Apparently that visit made an impression.

When Justin called me today, he asked whether I had received “the book.”

I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

“What book?” was pretty much my response.

He laughed and explained that he had sent me a book about gardening year-round, and according to Amazon it was supposed to be delivered today.

After getting off the phone, I went out onto the front porch to see whether anything had arrived.

Sure enough, there it was.

It was a completely unexpected and very thoughtful surprise, apparently inspired by his visit to the garden over the weekend.

After looking through it briefly, it appeared to contain quite a bit of interesting information. I suspect I’ll be spending some time with it during the coming days, particularly as the summer garden begins moving toward fall and I start thinking about what may be possible beyond the traditional growing season.

It was one of those small gestures that catches you completely off guard and makes the day just a little more special.

The rest of the evening apparently caught up with me.

At some point I settled into the recliner and, as has happened more than a few times lately, the recliner won.

When I finally woke up it was approaching midnight.

So at 11:47 PM I find myself once again preparing to head downstairs to the family room/office, catch up on a few blog entries, and finally bring what had been a surprisingly productive, and extremely tasty, Monday to an end.