On Grief & Grieving - September 2026 - Continued

September 16, 2026

Wednesday, September 16, 2026

I awoke at around 6:30 this morning and was greeted by another incredibly gorgeous and comfortable September day. At nearly 7:00 AM, it was 61 degrees with 90 percent humidity and a gentle five-mile-per-hour breeze coming from the south-southwest.

After beginning my second cup of coffee at the kitchen counter near the patio door, I moved outside to the deck to watch the world awaken.

As the buses passed by carrying students to the schools surrounding me, my attention was drawn to the sunlight filtering through the now-mature ornamental grass

between the shed and garden.

Neal passed by on his way to school at around 7:20,

and we spoke briefly about what a beautiful morning it was before wishing each other a good day.

The forecast called for a high of 86 degrees with partly cloudy and sunny conditions for most of the day, along with a chance of rain around 6:30 this evening. I suspected that once the temperature climbed above 80, I might retreat indoors, although I wasn’t making any promises.

At around 7:30, I noticed that the plants on the deck were looking thirsty, so I gave them all a good soaking. While doing so, I spotted three wild turkeys crossing the field and hillside behind the garden.

They made their way toward the guardrails near the middle school parking lot and eventually disappeared from view. I hoped they wouldn’t attempt to cross the road during the morning school traffic, or they might make themselves eligible for an early appearance on someone’s Thanksgiving table.

By 8:03, the sun had risen above the canopy of trees bordering the wooded area beyond the garden.

A few minutes later, the school traffic had mostly disappeared, and much to my surprise, I had not seen any construction vehicles passing the house. What had been a couple of hours of noisy, irritating traffic suddenly became serene, quiet, and very welcome.

I shared a map and a Google Earth view of the area surrounding my home to better illustrate just how many schools are nearby and why there is so much traffic at the beginning and end of every school day.

By 8:30, the sunlight had become intense enough for me to remove my fleece jacket and consider raising the umbrella if I intended to remain outside. However, the kitchen was beginning to call. A package of dried cranberries flavored with blueberry and lemon was waiting to become the featured ingredient in another batch of biscotti, which I planned to dip in white chocolate and sprinkle with pistachios.

By about 10:00, I had prepared the dry and wet ingredients and placed everything in the refrigerator to chill while I returned to the deck for a little rest and relaxation. Before adding the fruit, I rehydrated it in a mixture of amaretto and cognac. After draining away some of that liquid, I naturally sampled it rather than allowing anything perfectly good to go to waste. It left a delightful tingling sensation on my tongue and confirmed that the day’s operation was proceeding with maximum efficiency.

The formed biscotti logs went into the oven at around 10:35.

I set both the oven timer and a timer on my phone to make sure nothing interfered with the plan.

While they were undergoing their first bake, I moved to the recliner and turned on the television. A few minutes before the timers sounded, the entire upper level of the house filled with the most incredible aroma. I could actually smell the blueberries with a hint of lemon in the air, and it came remarkably close to being a religious experience.

Once the logs had cooled enough to slice and undergo their second bake,

I sampled a few of the smaller end pieces. The combination of cranberry, blueberry, lemon, and the underlying almond flavor was beyond description. Those little pieces may have been small, but they were enormous in flavor, and that was before the biscotti had even been dipped in chocolate and coated with pistachios.

At around 1:24, the weather remained incredibly beautiful, so I enjoyed a later-than-usual lunch on the deck.

Afterward, I returned to the kitchen and completed the biscotti, dipping some in white chocolate and generously coating the ends with chopped pistachios. I finished sometime between 2:00 and 2:30 and did a partial cleanup before moving to the recliner for what I intended to be only a short nap.

I should have known better.

I turned on a series that I believe was called The Box or Black Matter, but fell asleep rather quickly and awoke just in time to catch the end of the second episode.

It was somewhere around 4:00 or 4:30 when I decided it might be time for dinner. After stepping outside and realizing that the weather was still very accommodating, I prepared a plate of pasta with tomato sauce and grated cheese and, much to my delight, enjoyed my second meal of the day on the deck.

Shortly after dinner, while catching up on phone messages and missed calls, I noticed that Fran’s cousin Frank had called the previous day. I returned his call at around 5:30, and we spoke until approximately 6:15. It was good to talk with him since we hadn’t spoken in quite some time. He told me about his latest adventure, selling his house and moving into a condominium.

Naturally, our conversation eventually included the familiar subject that seems to arise whenever older people get together: our health, or the lack thereof.

While sitting on the deck later, I noticed another turkey near the oak tree attempting to cross the road amid the evening traffic. A couple of times, he stepped forward as though he intended to show the passing cars who was boss, but quickly reconsidered and retreated.

Wise bird.

He eventually crossed safely and disappeared into the hedgerow in front of my neighbor’s house. I waited for quite some time with my camera ready, expecting more turkeys to follow, but saw nothing except additional cars.

At around 6:45 or 7:00, the husband and wife who live near the bottom of the hill passed during their regular walk. I had invited them to stop and help me taste-test the biscotti on their return trip home, and while I was cleaning the dinner dishes and preparing the next morning’s coffee, I heard them greeting me through the patio door.

I invited them inside, offered them coffee, and suggested that they have at least half a cup, especially if, like me, they enjoyed dipping biscotti into their coffee.

They sampled four versions: plain almond, almond dipped in milk chocolate and dusted with pecans, the new cranberry-blueberry-lemon variety without chocolate, and the same fruit biscotti dipped in white chocolate and coated with pistachios.

When I first asked which they preferred, they politely said that all of them were delicious. I pressed a little harder, explaining that I appreciated their encouragement but truly wanted to know which one they would choose if they could select only one. They both agreed with my own choice: the cranberry-blueberry-lemon biscotti dipped in white chocolate and finished with pistachios was the clear winner. I now had both a biased opinion and two relatively unbiased opinions confirming that today’s creation was something special.

At around 7:45, my son called from North Carolina, and we spoke for approximately half an hour before he said he was going to take a shower and head to bed. When he asked what I had been doing lately, I told him about my newfound adventure down Biscotti Lane.

After hearing about all the varieties I had prepared, he asked why I hadn’t simply made plain, ordinary almond biscotti.

I replied, “I thought you knew me better than that.”

He said that he did know me and wasn’t surprised, but when he comes home for Christmas, he wants plain almond biscotti without any of the extra ingredients. I laughed and told him I would see what I could do.

That has now become my Christmas challenge: to make a supposedly plain and ordinary almond biscotti so exceptionally good that no one could possibly consider it ordinary. I may even slip one cranberry-blueberry-lemon biscotti dipped in white chocolate and pistachios into the container, strictly for comparison purposes.

I’m already looking forward to trying more flavor combinations, although I will probably hold off for a few days. At the moment, I am up to my ears in biscotti, which is hardly a bad predicament. Knowing how much I enjoy sharing the results of my kitchen adventures, however, I suspect a good portion of them will soon be making their way out the door to family, friends, and neighbors.

One thing is for certain regarding todays culinary adventure, I am confident Fran would have really enjoyed my latest attempt at preparing memorable biscotti...

September 17, 2026

Today began with worry after a restless night. My daughter had passed out, and word came around 1 AM that something abnormal had shown up on her EKG and that a hospital transfer was being arranged. With so little information, it was difficult to settle down or get much sleep.

When I made my way into the kitchen this morning, the outside of the patio doors was covered with dew. I assumed the deck and furniture would be equally wet and that the squeegee team would have some work ahead of it. Surprisingly, everything outside was completely dry. Not even a paper towel was needed to prepare for morning watch.

That little bit of good fortune didn’t last long. Shortly after I settled into my chair, I felt sprinkles. I put the cushions away, cleared the table, and went indoors. Within a minute, the rain stopped. This routine repeated itself three times, with the third attempt ending in a torrential downpour just when I thought it was finally safe to sit outside.

I had hoped to catch Neal on his way to work and give him some of the latest biscotti. I waited by the patio door, ready to dash out with a package, but never saw him. Perhaps he drove because of the rain.

My son-in-law needed to go to work and asked whether I could take clothes and other necessities to my daughter. He dropped the items off and explained that she was still in the emergency room awaiting transfer to a hospital in Monroeville. They wanted a cardiologist to evaluate the abnormal EKG. Low blood pressure and possible dehydration had also been mentioned, but there was still no definite explanation.

Meanwhile, I had already started another biscotti project, this time dividing the preparation between gluten-free and regular varieties. Between the interruptions, rushing, and everything else on my mind, I suspect I divided the liquid ingredients unevenly. The gluten-free dough was unusually stiff and easy to shape, while the regular dough was much too loose.

I added some flour to the regular batch and refrigerated both doughs. Even after chilling, the regular dough needed a little more flour. I was reluctant to add too much and change the finished product more than necessary.

Then I managed to put the entire bowl of hydrating cranberries, blueberries, and lemon into the gluten-free batch instead of dividing it between the two. Having realized what I had done, I added more fruit to the regular batch without hydrating it. That dough certainly didn’t need any additional liquid.

I had a feeling the regular batch would spread like a pancake, and that is precisely what happened.

It went into the oven shaped like a log and came out as a broad, flattened slab. Fortunately, there was enough rise in the center to let me divide it in half and cut smaller individual servings.

They weren’t the size or shape I had intended, but I was able to salvage them.

The gluten-free batch took about twice as long to bake but initially looked as though it had turned out reasonably well.

Slicing it told a different story.

Much of it began falling apart, although I managed to get about eight decent slices. The rest left something to be desired in the appearance department.

Later in the morning, I took my daughter’s clothes and necessities to the emergency room in Jeannette. On the way home, I stopped at the Italian market and finally found macadamia nuts. After looking for them at several stores earlier in the week, I was pleased to find them, until I saw the price. Nearly $20 a pound gave me considerable pause. Eventually, I decided that if I really wanted to make white chocolate macadamia nut biscotti, I would have to bite the bullet.

At another market, I picked up more cranberries and baking powder. I also found two beef fillets marked down by almost $10 and brought those home for a future treat.

By 1:56 PM, I was back home and sitting briefly in the recliner while the water for the double boiler heated. I still needed to melt the white chocolate and finish the morning’s biscotti. Knowing how easily a few minutes in that chair could become several hours, I was determined not to get too comfortable.

I did finish dipping the biscotti in white chocolate and sprinkling them with finely crushed pistachios.

Then they went into the refrigerator to chill.

By 4:49 PM, I had moved outside in another attempt to stay awake. The temperature was 80 degrees, the humidity was also 80 percent, and a west breeze of about seven miles per hour provided some relief. The biscotti were chilling in the refrigerator while I was trying to chill outside in 80-degree weather.

Go figure.

The sky offered a little of everything. To the north, clouds were darkening and moving in quickly. To the east, there was plenty of cloud cover, while thinner clouds to the south allowed more light through.

More rain was forecast for the evening, although the morning’s prediction of partly sunny skies had resulted in a downpour. Who was I supposed to believe?

Around 5 PM, I sent my son-in-law a text asking him to update me about my daughter whenever he had a chance.

During the evening, I prepared some dinner, cleaned up, and took the finished biscotti out of the refrigerator to package them. The gluten-free pieces were on the front tray, with the smaller regular ones on the tray behind them.

Their flavors were similar to yesterday’s batch, even if today’s shapes and sizes were considerably less predictable. As I expected, the gluten free variety tasted nothing like the original. I'll prefer the real deal every time...

Another brief trip to the deck ended when I noticed threatening clouds to both the north and south.

I decided to close up shop before the weather had another opportunity to send me scrambling indoors.

By 8:07 PM, I had made my way down to the family room and office to work on my blog. It had been a hectic day of hospital concerns, baking mishaps, errands, and repeated attempts to enjoy a little time outdoors.

I still hadn’t heard back from my son-in-law. I hoped there was enough evening left that he would send an update before turning in for the night. With everything else finished, I was still waiting for news about my daughter.

September 18, 2026

I started the day around 6:22 this morning with my first cup of coffee and a look through the patio door. Apparently, it had rained overnight, because the deck and everything on it were covered with water. It was 69 degrees with 95 percent humidity and barely a breeze.

The forecast showed rain every day next week until Saturday. I know forecasting isn’t an exact science, but seeing that much rain lined up was depressing nonetheless.

By 6:46, daylight was beginning to show, although the horizon offered little promise of a spectacular sunrise. Around seven, I woke up the squeegee team and went to work drying the deck and furniture.

Neal passed by on his way to school, and the gable light let him know I had something for him. I handed him a package of biscotti, which he planned to share with his brother Clay during a visit to Pittsburgh this evening.

I haven’t seen Clay since he moved out over the summer, and I hope he is doing well in his new apartment. I suggested that Neal find out when Clay might be coming back for a visit so I could prepare dinner for the three of us. Neal also invited me to a bonfire tomorrow evening. I told him that, judging by the forecast, tomorrow looked like the day to have it.

After finishing the deck, I put the squeegee team back to bed and went outside to sit down. Naturally, it started raining again.

Unbelievable.

Fortunately, that shower was brief and light, and later I was able to sit outside without even needing a paper towel.

By 8:30, I had already prepared another experimental batch of biscotti, this time white chocolate macadamia nut. I folded coarsely chopped macadamias and white chocolate into the dough and added a light sprinkling of coarse sea salt to the tops of the logs. My original plan was to dip the finished pieces in white chocolate and sprinkle them with more finely chopped macadamias, but after a quick quality control check I decided they were quite good the way they were.

Before ten, the first bake was finished,

the kitchen was cleaned up, and I was back on the deck while the logs cooled. My kitchen isn’t very large, and it doesn’t take much for the counters to become cluttered. I really dislike working in a messy kitchen, so keeping up with the cleanup is part of the process.

What amused me was realizing that I had made the entire batch from memory. After so many batches over the past several days, apparently the recipe has taken up residence in my head. I did pull it out afterward to check myself, and everything was accounted for.

After slicing the logs, I baked the pieces for ten minutes on one side, flipped them, and gave the other side another ten minutes. Naturally, an end piece had to undergo quality control. These were right up there with the cranberry-blueberry-lemon biscotti dipped in white chocolate and sprinkled with pistachios. I honestly couldn’t decide which I preferred.

The white chocolate remained in distinct pieces within the biscotti, and the little touch of sea salt was definitely a worthwhile addition. They tasted so good as they were that I began reconsidering whether they needed an additional coating at all.

Of course, while one batch was finishing, I was already thinking about another. I had picked up dried cherries at the market yesterday, and the idea of soaking them in a little kirsch, adding toasted sliced almonds, and dipping the finished biscotti in dark chocolate sounded promising. A cherry cordial in biscotti form.

That remains an experiment for another day.

Around noon, I prepared a toasted everything bagel with honey-baked ham, bread-and-butter pickles, generous slices of tomato, sandwich spread, horseradish, and Cajun seasoning.

With some sea-salted Cape Cod-style potato chips alongside, I took my lunch out onto the deck.

Earlier, I had watched a couple of squirrels chasing one another near the neighbor’s hedgerow across the road.

Three turkeys also appeared on the hillside in the field behind the garden.

There always seems to be something going on outside if I take the time to look.

While eating, I remembered the dried apricots I had bought at the Italian market yesterday. That set off another round of biscotti planning. I had considered making a turtle-inspired version with pecans, chocolate, and caramel, but I didn’t think I had enough pecans. The apricots won out, and by afternoon I had made an almond-flavored apricot batch.

I had intended to add white chocolate pieces to the dough, but apparently got caught up in the process and forgot them.

For the finish, I considered milk chocolate, semisweet, dark, and white chocolate. I settled on dark chocolate, although I briefly entertained using semisweet on some for comparison. That would also mean melting two chocolates and cleaning up twice as much. One chocolate and one cleanup had considerable appeal. The finished apricot biscotti received their dark chocolate coating and tasted quite good.

I really may need to slow down on this biscotti business. It’s getting a little out of control.

The most welcome news of the day came during the afternoon. My brother-in-law called after visiting Kim in the hospital. He told me she had undergone a heart catheterization and other tests, and that the results were fine. About an hour later, Kim called herself and said she was feeling fine. After the worry surrounding her fainting and hospitalization, hearing directly from her was a relief.

As it was explained to me, they were leaning toward a rise in her blood pressure as the reason she fainted. I remained somewhat skeptical and would like a clearer explanation, but I was certainly glad to hear the test results were reassuring.

Kim also told me she had been limited to toast and similar foods, with tea and water to drink. Then dinner arrived, and under the cover were spaghetti with red sauce and broccoli. That certainly didn’t sound consistent with what she had been told. It left me frustrated and wondering about communication within the hospital.

By 6:29, I was enjoying an absolutely lovely evening on the deck. It was 72 degrees with 73 percent humidity and a reported southerly breeze of six miles an hour, although I could barely feel it.

The view to the northeast was peaceful, with evening light on the trees and lawn.

Neal passed on his way home from school, and I called out that I had two more varieties of biscotti for him to try. He promptly turned into the backyard and came up onto the deck. He sampled both of today’s batches and also asked if he could have one of the pistachio-topped ones. I told him to help himself. The apricot variety went over particularly well, and I sent about half a dozen biscotti along for Clay.

Later, I decided that a single cup of coffee would be nice. My usual coffee maker grinds the beans and makes a pot, so I turned to the Keurig that can brew either a pot or an individual K-cup. I hadn’t used it in quite a while. What should have been a simple cup of coffee became an entire project.

A little blue light beside “Add Water / Descale” kept flashing, even though I had added fresh water. With some step-by-step help, I tried reseating the reservoir and running a rinse, but the first attempts got me nowhere. Eventually, the pot side began brewing water and the warning light went out. After that, the single-cup side successfully ran a water-only rinse.

While waiting for the brewing cycle, I stepped outside and found a clear blue evening sky with what appeared to be a half moon shining above the trees. I took a picture from the deck,

then another while checking the mail, facing almost due south.

From that angle, the dark branches framed the moon beautifully. At least the delay gave me a reason to catch those views.

Back inside, I inserted a K-cup, put my mug underneath, selected twelve ounces, and was greeted by that damn flashing blue light again. After another check of the water supply and another attempt, actual coffee finally flowed into the cup.

The things I have to go through just to get a cup of coffee are ridiculous. But with the machine finally cooperating, biscotti ready to go, and a lovely evening outside, I was quite certain I would enjoy it.

September 19. 2026

I had been awake since about 5:30 this morning when my daughter called from the hospital around 5:50. We talked while I got out of bed and went through my morning routine, until someone apparently came into her room around 6:20 and she had to hang up. She had asked whether I could bring her home when she was discharged today, and I told her I certainly would. The unanswered question was what time.

Having gone through hospital discharges with Fran and my parents, I know how much waiting can be involved. I remembered one occasion when getting my father discharged took nine hours. He was quite perturbed, and I was well beyond that.

Shortly after our call, I looked through the patio doors and saw the first traces of daylight.

The middle school’s parking lot lights were still illuminating the hillside and field behind the garden, creating an interesting combination of natural and artificial light.

When those lights switched off, the entire landscape changed.

The temperature was about 60 degrees, with high humidity and a light northeast breeze. Clouds covered much of the sky, although occasional openings to the southeast offered a little color and the possibility of improvement. I also heard an owl in the distance. I’ve heard them on numerous occasions over the years but have rarely actually seen one.

I decided to get a light jacket and spend some time on the deck. Those early morning hours outside are comforting, even when the weather is less than ideal. As the breeze picked up, I found myself thinking about the approaching fall and last year’s efforts to keep the deck plants alive. Covering them at night and uncovering them during the day carried them well into November before frost finally won.

That season is coming again, and I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.

There were a few visitors during my morning watch, including what I believed was a dove

and some turkeys emerging from the woods beyond the field.

The turkeys stayed more than a hundred yards away, but I photographed them anyway.

Eventually, the chill had me wrapping my hands around my coffee cup for warmth, and I headed inside to consider what I might make for Neal’s bonfire.

The dictation software contributed its usual nonsense along the way, including a little profanity I hadn’t intended. Apparently, it had its own ideas about what I was trying to say.

Once in the kitchen, I settled on a half dozen lemon-blueberry muffins and a half dozen cranberry-orange muffins, both with streusel topping. I already had the berries and citrus on hand, so it seemed like a good opportunity to put them to use.

My search for the elusive domed muffin top may finally have paid off.

Although the batter still looked a little loose going into the tins, the muffins rose beautifully without spreading over the sides. I would have been content with an ordinary successful batch, but these left me particularly satisfied. Thinking back, I had added an extra quarter cup of flour to each bowl, for half a cup total. That is an adjustment worth remembering, especially if I hope to repeat today’s results.

Returning to the deck after my baking adventure brought me to a state of almost total relaxation. By then, the temperature had reached about 70 degrees, with a gentle southeast breeze.

The morning’s lone dove apparently had spread the word, because more arrived.

I imagined the scouting report mentioning a pleasant place to roost, with only one drawback: that old guy on the deck with the camera simply wouldn’t go away.

Around 11, I also took a stroll down to the garden to see what might still be available. I gathered a few tomatoes, about five varieties of peppers, some fresh cilantro, and three summer squash. Despite its late start, this year’s garden continues to give. I made my way carefully around the yellow jackets near the entrance and brought everything back to the kitchen.

With some of the peppers, a cucumber from the refrigerator, red onion, cilantro, salt, fresh lime juice, and three ears of roasted corn, I put together a garden corn salsa.

A taste test with corn chips confirmed that it was quite refreshing. At first, I considered adding more chili and jalapeño peppers because it seemed mild. About thirty seconds later, the heat arrived, just enough to let me know it was there. Fortunately, I hadn’t rushed to add more.

By dinnertime, I still wasn’t certain whether I would make it to Neal’s. I was waiting to hear about my daughter’s discharge and thought I might need to leave to pick her up. As it turned out, the hospital was doing more tests, and she would be staying at least another night.

With that settled for the evening, I went to the bonfire, arriving around 7:30. I brought garden corn salsa and chips, four blueberry muffins, four cranberry muffins, and a plate containing several of the biscotti varieties I had made over the past few days.

I met several neighbors I hadn’t met before, many of whom were newer to the neighborhood. Most were about forty years younger than I am, but once the conversation got going, that didn’t seem to matter. There was plenty of discussion and more than an abundance of goodwill.

Among those there was the young couple who regularly walk their beautiful Bernese mountain dog past my house. I’ve often exchanged greetings with them, but this was a chance to spend more time together. Their son, not quite a year old, was quite an energetic little fellow. At one point, I noticed him working his way out of the carrier he was strapped into and alerted his mother. She picked him up and tried to settle him down. He wasn’t much of a crier, but he certainly seemed determined to be on the move.

I took a few pictures of the gathering around the fire

and a few deer nearby, (surprisingly not more than perhaps twenty feet away at times, but with the darknes of night the exposure took far to long to get a good photo)

and arrived home around 10.

I’m certainly glad I decided to attend. It was good to spend an evening getting acquainted with neighbors, sharing food, and enjoying the conversation.

Knowing Neal, as well as I have come to know him, there will probably be a few more bonfires before the really cold weather settles in.

Strange as it all may seem, even while surrounded by people, in the midst of wonderful enlightening conversation, my mind is still filled with memories of Fran and how much she would have enjoyed this lovely evening.

On this particular evening I'm quite certain she would have been absolutely thrilled with having had the opportunity to hold and play with the, newly acquainted with, neighbors young son. She definitely was a soft touch when it came to babies and young children. That's just the kind of person she always was.

September 20, 2026

It was one of those gray, colorless, dismal mornings in Western Pennsylvania. When I finally got myself up and moving around 7:30 AM, the view through the patio doors offered little encouragement to venture outside. At 68 degrees, with 95 percent humidity and a light breeze from the southwest, everything looked damp and uninviting. The forecast for the coming week wasn’t particularly appealing either.

After finishing last night’s blog, I had gone upstairs, settled into the recliner, and turned on the television. That was about all I remembered until waking around 1 AM and making my way to bed. I was up again around 5:30 to take care of some business, but one look outdoors convinced me that returning to bed was the better option.

With the weather putting my usual time on the deck out of reach, I decided it might be a good day to prepare a pot of Sunday sauce. In our family, that means something a little more substantial than a simple marinara, always beginning with some type of pork.

I’ve enjoyed the sauce I’ve made for years and have never had any complaints, but today I felt like experimenting a little. My usual recipe includes pork, blended peeled tomatoes, tomato paste, a few bay leaves, water, plenty of garlic, salt, Italian seasoning, a dash or two of Worcestershire sauce, and some grape jelly for sweetness. Occasionally, a little wine makes its way into the pot as well.

After considering a few suggestions, I changed the preparation somewhat. I added anchovies to sautéed onions and garlic to a ddep heavy bottom pot that I had browned cut up pork and then removed,

followed by the tomato paste and a little Merlot,

before adding the crushed San Marzano tomatoes, a few bay leaves, Italian seasoning, some garlic powder and fresh basil. This time, I left out the grape jelly.

Once all of the ingredients were blended together the browned pork was reintorduced to the pot. Then it was time to walk away for at least a few hours, returning once in a while to stir the pot, and simply wait for the magic to happen.

By around 11 AM, the sauce was on the stove simmering. After cleaning up the kitchen, I headed for the recliner, thinking I would sit for just a few minutes.

Apparently, the recliner had other plans.

My friend Bob from Greensburg called somewhere around noon, as best I can recall, and we talked for about fifteen or twenty minutes. Before we finished, I asked whether he would be home and mentioned that I might take a drive out to deliver some of the biscotti I had made over the past few days. I put considerable emphasis on the word “might.” He said he would be home, but the visit never materialized. My infatuation with the recliner apparently took precedence.

By the time I woke around 3:15, the sauce had been simmering for a little more than four hours. When I sampled it, I was pleased with the result. It was quite tasty, with a flavor somewhat different from my usual sauce, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what had changed. I suspect the anchovies, along with the onions, garlic, cooked tomato paste, and Merlot, had something to do with it. Even without the grape jelly, it had a sweetness that I found quite appealing.

Around 4 PM, I started preparing dinner. Shortly after putting the pasta water on to boil, my daughter called with the welcome news that she was coming home from the hospital. She and her husband were already on their way.

I reminded her that I had made sauce and that they were welcome to stop and pick some up. Around 4:30, my son-in-law arrived, and I sent him home with a quart of sauce and a generous package of the gluten-free biscotti I had made specifically for him. It was good to have something ready to share as they made their way home.

Shortly after my son-in-law departed I put on the pasta . Once cooked I put some sauce over top, added a generous sprinkkling of Parmesan cheese and it wasoff to the races.

At around 5:00 pm I sat myself down for dinner.

After eating dinner and cleaning up the kitchen, I returned to, you guessed it, the recliner. I turned the television back on and drifted off to Never Neverland once again.

Other than preparing the sauce and doing a couple of loads of laundry, much of the day was spent falling in and out of sleep. It rained for the better part of the day, so there wasn’t much opportunity to enjoy the deck. Even so, I found myself feeling that I should have accomplished more.

At 10:29 PM, I finally worked up enough energy to leave the recliner and head down to the family room and office to work on my blog, even though I didn’t feel as though I had much to write about today.

Still, there was a successful experiment with Sunday sauce, a conversation with a friend, and, most welcome of all, the news that my daughter was on her way home.

I'm fairly certainFran would have enjoyed todays sauce experiment, even though she most certainly would have gone on saying "your sauce is already quite delicious, why must you insit on chnaging the recipe."

Something I most assurdly would not have told her was that I added anchovies to the recipe, she would have absolutely freaked out on that addition. I got a chuckle out of that thought, in and that it reaffirmed something I have always believed in...

"Sometimes, what you don't know, won't hurt you..."

September 21, 2026

It’s 10:22 PM, and I’m looking back on a day that began with weather that offered absolutely no encouragement to get outdoors.

By 8:58 this morning, the temperature was 62°, with a feels-like temperature of 57°, humidity at 90%, and a brisk northeast breeze around 10 mph. Thick gray clouds covered the sky, and the deck was wet and uninviting. Morning watch was clearly not going to happen.

The house had cooled to about 65°, so I actually turned on the heat, something I haven’t had to do for quite some time. I found myself in the recliner, looking through the living room and dining room toward the patio doors.

It looked brighter outside than inside, but certainly not comfortable enough to tempt me out there.

My brother-in-law Paul stopped by, and we had coffee while he sampled a few biscotti. Before he left, I packaged some for him to take home and some for him and his wife, as well as his sister-in-law Beverly. She was always preparing something for Fran to eat during her extended difficult times, and I haven’t forgotten that kindness.

I was also planning to call Kim to see how she had made it through her first night home. I’m sure she’s glad to be out of the hospital, although having to wear a heart monitor and keep it dry for the next fourteen days is undoubtedly an irritation.

With outdoor activities off the agenda, I began thinking about the head of cabbage in the downstairs refrigerator. I had originally considered making egg rolls, but stuffed cabbage sounded more appropriate for the day. It would keep me occupied and give me some meals to have on standby.

Even though I’ve made stuffed cabbage more times than I could possibly count, I’m always willing to entertain a different idea. After considering a few variations, I was still inclined to stick with my usual mixture of equal parts ground beef, ground pork, and ground veal. Sauerkraut was considered as an addition, but I’ve never been much of a fan.

My sauce has always leaned toward savory rather than sweet. One requirement Fran never allowed any room for debate about was saving the water the cabbage had been cooked in. Never, ever, ever throw it away. That cooking liquid belonged in the tomato sauce. In her eyes, it was an essential part of making stuffed cabbage, and I can still hear that instruction quite clearly.

At around 10 AM, I got started. Stuffed cabbage isn’t especially difficult, but it certainly takes time. Between thawing the meat,

getting the water boiling, peeling away the softened cabbage leaves, cooking the rice,

preparing the filling ingredients

and sauce,

and finally mixing, filling, rolling everything,

and getting it all into a generous size roasting pan

it was almost 12:45 before the roasting pan was ready for the oven.

I had laundry going as well. Before starting the cabbage, I put in a load of whites and took a load of colored clothes out of the dryer to fold. There always seems to be another load waiting for its turn.

By 1:03 PM, the stuffed cabbage was tucked into the oven at 350° for about two hours,

and I was ready to sit down. Outside, the weather continued to suck. The temperature was 61°, feeling more like 55°. The rain had stopped for the moment, but that thick, opaque gray cloud cover refused to relinquish its hold.

I returned to the recliner, hoping a short break wouldn’t become an extended nap. I had my phone set to wake me around 2 PM and the oven timer set as well. There was still laundry to move along and folding to finish, provided I could muster the ambition.

I know how frustrated I get when sitting in that chair seems to bring everything else to a halt. I don’t like feeling as though I’m wasting time. Sometimes I think I could solve the problem by simply staying the hell out of the recliner, although after spending most of the morning on my feet in the kitchen, I suppose wanting a break was understandable.

The stuffed cabbage came out looking quite appetizing, with a full pan of rolls nestled in tomato sauce.

I also prepared mashed potatoes,

getting out the potato ricer to finish them.

By 4:45 PM, I was seated again for a few minutes, waiting for my son-in-law to arrive. I had stuffed cabbage, mashed potatoes, and a couple of muffins ready for him to take home for Kim and my grandson.

I also prepared a sampling of the different biscotti I’ve made over the past several days for his parents. For his grandmother, I put together a smaller package containing three of the chocolate-dipped apricot biscotti flavored with almond extract. That variety contains no actual nuts, which was why I chose it with her dietary restrictions in mind.

What began as a way to occupy a dreary morning had turned into dinner and several packages of food to share.

At that point, I wasn’t particularly hungry myself, although I expected that to change as the evening went on. A couple of stuffed cabbage rolls and some mashed potatoes were the likely plan whenever my appetite caught up.

The weather never gave me the morning on the deck I wanted, but the kitchen certainly kept me occupied. There was laundry, coffee and company, food prepared for family,

"and another familiar reminder of Fran, in a pot of cabbage water that I knew better than to throw away."

September 22, 2026

At 6:43 this morning, I found myself facing yet another miserable day weatherwise. It was 59 degrees outdoors, with 92 percent humidity and a northeast wind at about 7 mph. The forecast called for rain throughout the day, with a flood watch extending into tomorrow morning. Fortunately, flooding has never been a problem at my location at the top of a rather steep hill.

What has become a problem is this recurring inability to enjoy a cup of coffee out on the deck. That morning routine means a great deal to me, and having it repeatedly interrupted by the weather is wearing thin. The extended forecast offered some hope of clearing on Thursday. Apparently, I’ll have to be patient, although patience has never been one of my stronger attributes.

During the morning, I also requested a recipe for laminated dough for Danish and French pastries, giving myself another possible direction to explore in the kitchen.

At around 11:15, I called my friend Bob in Greensburg to see whether he and his wife, Barbra, would be home later. I had biscotti set aside for them and thought I might bring along some stuffed cabbage rolls to share for lunch if they hadn’t already eaten. Bob had commitments around noon but said he would call when he returned home.

About half an hour later, he called back with another idea: why not bring the stuffed cabbage around dinnertime so we could all sit down together? That sounded fine to me, and we settled on 5:30. About fifteen minutes later, he called again to say he would make mashed potatoes. I told him I already had those prepared and planned to bring them, along with another side dish.

I initially thought I could use a couple of ears of corn that I believed were in the downstairs refrigerator. Upon investigation, I discovered a slight flaw in that plan: I had already used them in the corn salsa a few days ago.

On to Plan B. I diced onions and a variety of peppers, added seasoned salt, garlic powder, and a little celery salt, and sautéed everything until softened. Then I added a can of whole-kernel corn.

The result reminded me of something we had when I was young and living with my parents, which I believe was called Mexican-style corn. I couldn’t remember the last time I had noticed it in a store, although I rarely buy canned vegetables, preferring them as close to fresh as possible.

Bob also asked whether I could arrive a little earlier to go over an inspection report on the house he and Barbra are selling. We adjusted the arrival time to around 5.

At approximately 2:45, I went to open the patio door and couldn’t get it to budge. I knew exactly what was wrong. For an embarrassingly long time, the screws holding the strike plates had occasionally worked loose and backed out far enough to interfere with the door. Usually, I would fidget with it until I could get it open and then tighten them again.

Today, I finally decided that enough was enough. It occurred to me that someday I might need to get out that door quickly, and fighting with it would be a real problem. I gathered some material to plug the existing screw holes and installed much longer screws, seating the heads against the plates. Hopefully, that will put an end to this particular nuisance. Time will tell.

The door itself is more than thirty years old, and the strike plates are only part of its troubles. At one point, I was determined to replace it, but the estimates brought that enthusiasm to a halt. The first was $14,000. Yes, fourteen thousand dollars. The second was $12,000, and the third was $8,000.

Having spent so many years in construction, I know what replacing a door involves. I understand that costs have risen, but I simply cannot justify spending that kind of money on this replacement right now. After giving it some thought, I believe the old door still has some life left in it. For the time being, it has earned a reprieve.

I left home around 4 PM, allowing time to stop at a local home improvement center and return a tool I had purchased when helping Bob replace his garage door. I thought I had given myself plenty of extra time, but there were three people ahead of me at the return counter. A couple were asking where to find merchandise rather than making returns, and I could feel my limited supply of patience being tested once again.

When my turn finally came, the return took about two minutes, and I was on my way. Despite the delay, I arrived at Bob’s house at 5 PM on the dot.

After bringing in the food, Bob and I went over the home inspection report. We sat down to dinner around 5:30 and enjoyed the stuffed cabbage, mashed potatoes, and corn with peppers and onions. We talked about a variety of things until approximately 7, when I thanked them for their hospitality and conversation and headed home.

My daughter had called while we were eating, around the time she usually calls. I let it go unanswered, intending to call her back once I got home. I returned around 7:30 and did just that. We talked for about forty-five minutes. She told me she has quite a few upcoming doctor’s appointments and asked whether I could take her. I told her I didn’t anticipate a problem; I just needed to know when and where ahead of time.

By 8:44, I was home for the evening and thinking about getting my blog done before midnight for a change. The day began with frustration over the weather, but it included preparing food to share, finally addressing a longstanding repair, and spending a pleasant evening around the table with friends. Now, if I can get these thoughts posted before the recliner gets involved, I might even manage an earlier finish.

September 23, 2026

It’s 10:17 PM, and today got off to a rather bizarre and unusually early start.

After working on my blog last evening, I went upstairs to the living room somewhere around 8:30 or 9:00, settled into my recliner, and turned on the television to catch up on what was happening in the world. Apparently, I didn’t find out very much because I’m fairly certain I fell asleep almost immediately. I finally made my way to bed around 1:00 or 1:30 AM, only to wake up wide awake at 3:00 am.

Since getting back to sleep didn’t seem likely, I decided to begin some of the things I had intended to accomplish during the day.

Fran’s cousin Frank had sent me a text saying he would like to come for a visit beginning this coming Saturday. With that in mind, I stripped the sheets and comforters from my bed and the spare bedroom bed where he usually stays, carried everything downstairs, and got the laundry underway.

Between washing and drying loads, I prepared a batch of laminated pastry dough.

Once mixed, I shaped it into approximately an eight-inch square, wrapped it in plastic wrap, and placed it in the refrigerator.

The recipe called for at least four hours of chilling, preferably overnight, so I figured I would check on it around noon.

Fortunately, I remembered that I also had to prepare a butter block, and refrigerate it, so that I could lay it out on the rolled out dough once it came out of the refrigerator, after its first chill. I had almost forgotten to prepare it, and I certainly would have been annoyed to take out the chilled dough only to discover that its companion wasn’t ready.

The recipe called for about 250 grams of butter. My two sticks came to approximately 225 grams, leaving me a little short. I used a method I had worked out during previous attempts: soften the butter just enough to make it malleable,

slice each stick into thirds lengthwise, arrange the pieces inside a Ziploc bag,

and roll them into an even sheet.

The bag yielded a block approximately seven inches wide and ten inches long. It has worked well for me before, and today it once again produced a fairly uniform thickness. Into the refrigerator it went, right beside the dough.

By 5:50 AM, I already had quite a bit underway, although it was still too dark outside to get much sense of the morning. Looking through the patio doors, the deck appeared reasonably dry. The temperature was 55 degrees, with 85 percent humidity and a northeast breeze at about eight miles per hour. There was a slight chance of rain around six, but the rest of the forecast suggested partly cloudy and partly sunny conditions.

Since the morning weather wasn’t particularly inviting, I spent some time at the computer working on two projects that I had wanted to finish for quite a while. Today finally seemed like the opportunity to tackle them, and I managed to complete both.

By 1:47 PM, the linens had been washed and dried, one bed was completely remade, and the other had its sheets back on and was waiting for the comforter to finish drying.

The pastry had also moved along. I removed the chilled dough from the refrigerator, rolled it out, added the butter block, and completed the first trifold.

After wrapping it again,

I returned it to the refrigerator for another rest. My plan was to give it at least half an hour before taking it out for the second of three trifolds.

At that point, I wasn’t entirely sure what was keeping me going. Having been awake since three in the morning, I suspected that sitting down might bring my productivity to an abrupt halt.

By then, the weather had improved considerably.

The temperature had reached 66 degrees, the humidity had dropped to 56 percent, and an easterly wind was blowing at about 11 miles per hour. There was still a little chill in the air, but the blue sky and patterned white clouds above the green yard made the outdoors look much more appealing.

I thought another cup of coffee and a little time on the deck might be just the thing, while the dough rested, I could rest as well. Between the laundry, preparations for Frank’s visit, the two completed computer projects,

and the pastry, it was quite a full day.

September 24, 2026

I got myself out of bed at around 6:30 this morning, tended to a few chores, and made my way to the kitchen for a much needed caffeine boost. By 7:03, I was pleased to report that, at long last, we had a morning worth waking up to, at least with regard to a respectable sunrise and drier conditions. The sky offered beautiful shades of pink, coral, and orange, and the forecast called for sunshine throughout the day.

The temperature, however, was a different matter. At 48 degrees, with 90 percent humidity and a northeast breeze of about 6 mph, the view was considerably more inviting than the prospect of sitting outside. Initially, I thought I might enjoy the morning through the patio doors until things warmed up.

Somewhere in the midst of sharing my observations, I realized just how creatively the dictation function had been interpreting my words. I really am going to have to start reading what I dictate before sending it off. Fortunately, the general meaning seemed to survive the transcription.

By 7:34, the sunrise had proved too tempting. After drying the deck table with the assistance of a few paper towels, I took my seat outdoors. Calling it brisk would have been an understatement. It was downright freaking cold, even with a sweatshirt and a light fleece jacket.

Once again, my coffee cup was serving as a hand warmer, and I found myself clutching it while deciding how long I could reasonably stay. Seeing the sun made leaving surprisingly difficult.

At around 7:46, after taking several more photographs from my seated position, I finally went inside to warm both myself and my coffee. The morning sunlight streaming into the dining room was a welcome sight,

illuminating the plants and reflecting off the furniture. It was something I hadn’t seen for a while, and I stopped to appreciate it.

Approaching the patio doors from a different angle, I also noticed the sunlight shining through the yellow butterfly sun catcher. With the words “Always My Sunshine” above it and the morning sun glowing beyond the glass,

it was another photograph I couldn’t resist.

By 7:56, I had ventured back outside. While looking toward the garden, I noticed that some of the leaves on the tree just behind ornamental grass was already turning red. Autumn was certainly making its presence known.

The low sunlight shining through the tall ornamental grass was equally striking, lighting up its feathery plumes.

After moving between the chair at the table and the glider, I discovered what a difference a few feet could make. The glider was in direct sunlight, and I could actually feel the warmth on my skin. It also offered a noticeably different view.

As the sun climbed, unobstructed by clouds, the railing cast distinct shadows across the deck and tabletop.

Between the warm coffee, the improving comfort level, and the changing light, I found plenty of reasons to linger and take more photographs.

My thoughts also turned to the laminated pastry dough I had prepared yesterday. I wanted to make bear claws and had an unopened package of almond paste, but I wasn’t quite sure how to turn it into a suitable filling. After getting some guidance on making it spreadable and shaping the pastries, I had a clearer idea of how to proceed.

During some web surfing, I also came across videos and partial recipes for what sounded like “nun bread,” apparently a potato-based, gluten-free bread with a delicate texture. I asked about it and learned that I might have been looking at a variation of naan, although I'm quite certain the recipe was called NUN Bread. That remains something to investigate further.

Around noon, I prepared cream cheese filling for some of the pastries and a spreadable almond filling for the bear claws. Using one third of yesterday’s laminated dough, I rolled it out, measured and cut the pieces, and shaped four bear claws and two pinwheels.

The pinwheels had cheese and berry filling, while the bear claws received their almond filling and sliced-almond decorations.

Several times during the afternoon, I caught myself wanting to fall asleep. Nevertheless, the pastries eventually made their way into the oven, and at 5:40 I stepped back onto the deck to enjoy what remained of an absolutely gorgeous late September afternoon.

The sun had moved around toward the front of the house, leaving the deck cooler. It was 64 degrees, with 55 percent humidity and a northeast breeze of about 6 mph.

I was wearing only a sweatshirt and could see that a jacket might be necessary if I stayed outside for long. The cool air certainly helped keep me awake, and the coffee continued its double duty of warming me from the inside and keeping my hands comfortable.

When the oven timer sounded a few minutes later, I was very glad I checked promptly. I had started the pastries at 400 degrees for ten minutes, then thought I had lowered the temperature to 375 for another eight minutes. Unfortunately, although I changed the setting, I neglected to press the start button to confirm it.

The oven had remained at 400 degrees.

The bear claws still looked quite good, but the thinner tips of the pinwheels had become a little more crisp and dark than intended.

I set everything aside to cool before activating quality control. With two more slabs of laminated dough waiting, I wanted to know how this first batch had turned out before proceeding.

I’m ecstatic to report that quality control reached unanimous agreement: the taste and texture certainly lived up to my expectations. Even the pinwheels, aside from a couple of overdone petals, were wonderful.

The dough had clearly defined layers and was tender and flaky,

including beneath the cheese and berry filling.

The bear claws were exquisite. If I make one adjustment next time, it will be to use a little less almond filling.

It was certainly a pleasure to bite into, but sometimes less is better, and this may be one of those occasions. I would like to give the pastry itself a little more of the spotlight.

After yesterday’s rolling, folding, and chilling, it was particularly satisfying to cut into the finished pastries and see those layers. The oven mishap gave me something to watch more carefully next time, but the dough itself delivered exactly what I had hoped for.

Now it’s 8:05 PM, and I’m about to head down to the family room/office to make a few entries in today’s blog.

From the colorful sunrise and welcome sunshine to the success of my most recent batch of laminated pastries, there has been plenty today worth recording.

September 25, 2026

The day began at 6:30 AM with every indication that we were in for another beautiful day in Western Pennsylvania. It was a chilly 43°, with humidity at 89% and a light northeast breeze of about 3 mph. The forecast called for clear skies and a high near 70°, and the morning was certainly off to a promising start.

I stepped outside long enough to take a few photographs of the sun coming through the trees, but there was quite a bit of dew on the deck and furniture. Rather than wake up the squeegee team and enlist a supply of paper towels, I decided to give the old haymaker an opportunity to dry things off before settling in for a longer stay.

By late morning, I had taken my place at the deck table and was finding it difficult to leave. The temperature had climbed to 57°, the humidity had dropped to 65%, and a comfortable breeze was coming out of the north-northeast. The sky was completely cloudless. With sunlight warming my skin and smooth jazz drifting from the kitchen through the open patio door, the morning had an almost hypnotic peacefulness.

I kept telling myself that I should get up and do something constructive, but I couldn’t seem to pull myself away. Mornings like this don’t come along nearly often enough, and their opportunities will become fewer as fall progresses toward winter so I wanted to take in as much of this one as I could.

The light playing across the plants near the deck railing caught my attention, giving me another reason to reach for the camera.

Around 10:30, I freshened my coffee and enjoyed a blueberry muffin outside.

That left just one of the dozen muffins I had made several days ago.

Fran’s cousin Frank is coming for a visit tomorrow, so I gave some thought to preparing food ahead of time. Another dozen muffins seemed like a reasonable possibility, something we could enjoy with our morning coffee without a great deal of work. I hadn’t committed to making them, but the thought was there.

Although my surroundings were quiet, my mind was anything but still. Thoughts kept moving in different directions, from medical concerns to travel to the plans Fran and I had made for this stage of our lives.

My son had told me about a jazz festival in Duck, North Carolina, taking place in October. I had considered going, but my ongoing medical issues and the possibility of a procedure had caused me to put that idea aside. I have also been thinking about spending a few winter months somewhere farther south. Last winter was more difficult than I expected, and I’m already concerned about facing another one.

The trouble is that thinking about these things and finding the desire to follow through are two very different matters. An idea may seem appealing when it first comes to mind, but I struggle to find the wherewithal to do much beyond considering it. I don’t get out much anymore, and often I have little desire to do so.

In all honesty, I’m not convinced that a change in climate or company would make much difference in how I feel. Nothing changes the fact that Fran is no longer here to share the experience. So many of the things we postponed over our lifetime were things we expected to do together when we finally had the opportunity. Those unfinished plans haunt me daily.

I know life is different now. I tell myself that I need to accept that and move forward, but I can’t seem to get there. Every possible road seems to bring me back to the one I least want to travel: continuing without her. Even on a morning this beautiful, those thoughts remain.

There was, however, some activity in the kitchen. Earlier, I had taken out another portion of laminated dough and shaped a half dozen bear claws, leaving them to proof. Around noon, I baked them, and they turned out far better than I expected.

After what happened with yesterday’s pinwheels, I was determined to pay closer attention to the timing. I set the oven timer a couple of minutes earlier than the anticipated finishing time. When I checked, the bear claws were just beginning to brown, so I gave them another four minutes. That seemed to bring them right where they needed to be.

I set them on the stovetop to cool briefly, then brushed them with apricot preserves to give them that bakery shine. I was quite pleased with the results.

With that task completed, I returned to the deck for another couple of hours, observing my surroundings and enjoying what felt like a remaining gift of summer weather.

My daughter called before I started my next kitchen project, and we talked for about half an hour. She is still dealing with several medical issues and has become understandably frustrated, anxious, and at times angry. With my own ongoing difficulties, I can certainly appreciate how she feels.

Around 3 PM, after some internal debate, I decided to prepare another batch of laminated dough. It seemed better to have it available if I wanted to make more pastries than to have to begin the entire process from scratch. By late afternoon, both the dough and butter block were chilling in the refrigerator, awaiting their introduction and the first trifold.

At approximately 3:30 PM, I also called the urology office. During my last appointment, they had told me someone would contact me within a month to schedule the potential procedure we had discussed. Today marked exactly one month, and I had heard nothing.

Fortunately, I reached a human being who was polite and accommodating. Unfortunately, the initial explanation was the familiar one: they were a little short handed, and that was probably why no one had gotten back to me.

She said she would leave a note for the surgical scheduler, who should contact me Monday or Tuesday. If I didn’t hear anything, I was welcome to call back and remind them again.

That just slays me.

I waited the amount of time they specified, called to follow up on their recommendation, and was then told to remind them again if they didn’t follow through. I find it hard to understand why the responsibility keeps coming back to the patient.

Based on my experiences over the past several months, my money is on having to make another call. I would be happy to be proven wrong, but at this point an assurance that someone will contact me, along with a five-dollar bill, might get me a cup of coffee at Starbucks.

Of course, I only visit Starbucks once or twice a year, so I was guessing about the price. For all I know, five dollars might not cover it. The idea of spending that much on a cup of coffee strikes me as ridiculous anyway.

By 5:28 PM, I was back in my chair at the deck table and very much in the comfort zone. The temperature was 67°, humidity had fallen to 55%, and a gentle north breeze was moving through at about 5 mph. The sun had shifted to the front of the house, leaving the deck shaded and exceptionally comfortable.

It was difficult to persuade myself to go back inside to work on the dough. From the early sunshine to the late afternoon shade, the weather had exceeded my expectations.

Today held a little of everything: satisfying results in the kitchen, a conversation with my daughter, frustration with the medical office, and the familiar ache of missing Fran and the future we had imagined together. Through it all, there were long stretches when I could sit outside, listen to the music, feel the breeze, and appreciate the beauty in front of me.

The peacefulness was real, even when my thoughts would not settle.

September 26, 2026

After a bit of internal debate, I finally convinced myself to get out of bed around 6:30 this morning. I certainly could have stayed there longer, but apparently my internal clock had other ideas. I fetched my first cup of coffee and made my way to the patio door to see what the morning had to offer.

At 47 degrees, with high humidity and a light breeze out of the northwest, I wasn’t particularly inclined to venture outdoors. Everything was covered with dew, and I decided the squeegee team could remain off duty for a while longer.

The sky initially held plenty of clouds, but by about 7:16 they began breaking apart as old haymaker made his way above the horizon.

Before long, the changing light had me thoroughly engrossed in taking photographs.

I became a little too absorbed and spent more time looking toward the sunrise than I should have.

Fortunately, my vision returned to normal after I stepped away.

Even at my age, I continue to marvel at the beauty of a morning sunrise. I sometimes wonder why I didn’t appreciate such things more when I was younger. There were certainly sunrises back then, but somehow there always seemed to be something more pressing to do.

I also noticed how far south the sunrise has shifted, another reminder that winter is approaching, a thought I’m not especially eager to entertain. The birds seemed particularly active this morning, moving from perch to perch as though they had important business to attend to. Shortly after eight, while I was refreshing my coffee, a flock of geese passed overhead in their familiar V formation, heading south.

Around eight, I began another round of baking. This time I made a dozen muffins: eight cranberry-blueberry-lemon and four coffee cake muffins with a walnut, brown sugar, and butter swirl in the middle.

Once the muffins were finished, I decided to use the remaining laminated pastry dough. I shaped eight pastries in two different styles, added cream cheese filling, and baptized each with a little mulberry. They stayed on the counter to proof while I turned my attention to the rest of the day.

By early afternoon, the chilly morning had become another absolutely gorgeous September day. There were still clouds, but many looked more like whispers of clouds against the blue sky.

Fran’s cousin Frank was driving in from Columbus, Ohio. He texted at 11:22 from a stop in Wheeling, West Virginia, and arrived around 1:30. After some welcoming conversation, I prepared lunch: Wagyu beef burgers with grilled onions and mushrooms, accompanied by Cape Cod chips. I must say, they turned out pretty darn good, and we enjoyed them out on the deck.

Earlier, a blue jay had been hopping around the backyard, providing an opportunity for a few photographs.

The afternoon brought another entertaining visitor. a little squirrel who seemed almost as interested in me as I was in him. He stayed around for quite some time, carrying what appeared to be an walnut, and gave me plenty of opportunities to capture his activities.

After cleaning up from lunch, I baked the pastries at 400 degrees for about eight minutes, then lowered the temperature to 375 for another eight minutes. They came out looking quite satisfactory. Once they cooled a little, I brushed them with apricot preserves and left the sampling for later.

By 6:02, I was continuing my afternoon watch on the deck when the light changed quite suddenly. Just moments before, the sun had been shining, but within seconds everything became noticeably darker.

It certainly looked as though the weather might have something else in mind. Fortunately that something turned out to be a beautiful closure to the end of the day.

Frank and I remained outside, consuming a few pastries and muffins with some coffee until about 7:15, during that time and amidst quite a bit of conversation we had some additional visitors that included the wild turkeys an d several deer grazing in the bield behind the garden. Then, when he mentioned that he was getting chilled, trying to be a gracious host, I wasn’t going to argue. I put away the chair cushions, lowered the umbrella, and we headed indoors.

The dishes still waiting in the sink reminded me that my evening cleanup vigil wasn’t quite finished. Frank settled onto the living room couch and put on a movie while I attended to the kitchen.

Since the movie wasn’t particularly interesting to me, I eventually made my way downstairs to the family room and office. By 8:27,

I was ready to spend a little time putting the day into words, a day of baking, company, good food, and the simple pleasure of watching what was happening right outside my door.

September 27, 2026

Sunday began around 5:30 AM with a clear sky, plenty of stars, and a damp chill in the air. After tending to my usual morning routines, I made my way to the kitchen for coffee and looked out through the patio doors.

Frank was still asleep on the living room couch. Why he insists on sleeping there when there are two bedrooms available remains beyond me. Being an early riser, I find myself trying to move quietly through my own house so I don’t disturb him. Of course, I suppose some of that comes back to me for not insisting that he use a bedroom.

Rather than settle onto the damp deck furniture, I sat at the dining room table with the patio door open and watched for the sun. Over the next few hours, I worked my way through about five cups of coffee, a cranberry-orange muffin, and a fruit-and-cheese pastry.

Frank got up sometime around 7:30 or 8:00, poured himself coffee, and had a couple of biscotti. He wondered why I wasn’t outside, but by then I could already feel the sun’s warmth through the patio doors. Around 9:00, I finally moved onto the deck. A few paper towels took care of the remaining dew, and the morning watch was officially underway.

Frank joined me, and we had a lengthy discussion about buying and selling stocks and the state of the economy. Around 9:45, Frank left for church, saying he would return after Mass. He also asked whether I wanted to accompany him to clean the gravestones of his parents and grandparents. I told him I already had other plans and didn’t expect to leave before noon.

A little later, my young squirrel friend paid an unexpected visit and spent about twenty minutes entertaining me.

He was quite the energetic little fellow, exploring the grass and giving me plenty of opportunities to take photographs. His bushy tail was almost a show in itself.

Around 10:30, I went inside and decided to try another kitchen experiment. I retrieved a bag of tater tots from the freezer and brought my waffle maker up from the garage. The result was quite successful: crispy on the outside and soft and warm inside.

I had expected Frank back around 10:30 or 11:00 and thought we might have breakfast together. When he didn’t appear, I said to myself, “Self, we’re going to have breakfast anyway.” Once the potatoes were done, I unplugged the waffle iron and let its remaining heat keep them warm while I prepared two sunny-side-up eggs with Himalayan salt and a few dashes of Cajun seasoning.

I carried my plate outside and enjoyed a delicious, satisfying breakfast on the deck.

Frank missed it, but that was his loss.

By shortly after noon, the temperature was 66 degrees, the humidity was down to 55 percent, and a comfortable northwest breeze was blowing.

The blue sky and textured white clouds made a beautiful backdrop for breakfast.

The sunshine lasted into the early afternoon before a dense layer of clouds moved in around 2:30. The difference was noticeable enough that I went inside for a light jacket. My short-sleeved shirt was no longer doing the job.

Earlier, I had spotted one of my garden adversaries, a groundhog, grazing near the middle school. Naturally, I took a few photographs.

In roughly five years of serious gardening, only one season brought a persistent groundhog determined to treat my garden as his personal buffet. Fortunately, I haven’t had that problem this year. Perhaps the former offender moved on to another territory. I hope this one remains content with the grass where I found him.

While I was sitting outside, Neal passed by on a walk. I invited him to stop on his way home so I could send him off with muffins and pastries. About an hour later, he did just that. We talked for a while, and he continued home with a goodie bag.

Not long afterward, Zach and Mia, the young couple who recently moved a few doors down, walked past with their Bernese Mountain Dog, Theo. I absolutely adore that dog. Until recently, our encounters had mostly consisted of saying hello as they passed with Theo and their nine-month-old son, but Neal’s bonfire had given us an opportunity to become properly acquainted.

I invited them to stop on their return trip for muffins and pastries, too. They did, and we spent fifteen or twenty minutes chatting, much of it about Theo. They strike me as very kind, personable people.

I also asked Mia whether she might be interested in looking through some of Fran’s clothing. There are things from Stitch Fix that Fran never had an opportunity to wear, with the tags still attached. Mia appeared to be about Fran’s height and build, and I explained that I hoped I wasn’t being intrusive by asking.

I mentioned that throughout our fifty-three-plus years of marriage, Fran generally stayed between 100 and 110 pounds, and I hadn’t known anyone who might be able to use those clothes. Mia laughed and asked whether I really thought she weighed only about 100 pounds. She agreed to stop by next weekend and look things over. I hope some of the clothing will fit her.

A little later, Mia sent a text saying she was baking a cake and would like to bring me some. That was such a thoughtful offer from someone I had only recently begun getting to know.

Frank finally returned around 4:30 PM. I put water on for potatoes, and by about 5:00 they were mashed and ready. All that remained was to heat the stuffed cabbage.

Before we sat down, my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson arrived. My grandson wanted to show me the new tools he had purchased for his job. That turned into an opportunity to give him some tools of my own that I had duplicates of: Craftsman half-inch and three-eighths-inch drive sockets and ratchets, a breaker bar, open-end and box wrenches, screwdrivers, and more.

They were part of the toolbox I used to carry in my van. I haven’t owned that van for years, and I rarely work on my own car anymore. There seemed little reason to keep those tools sitting around if he could put them to use.

The family left around 6:00, and I heated the remaining stuffed cabbage. Frank and I finally sat down to dinner with the mashed potatoes and enjoyed a hearty meal.

By the time we finished, the cabbage wasn’t the only thing that was stuffed.

At 7:14, the dinner dishes were done. Frank settled into the living room to watch football, and since I have absolutely no interest in sports, I returned to the deck. With the heavy cloud cover and fading daylight, it was nearly dark. The conditions weren’t particularly inviting, but being outside still appealed to me. I planned to move down to the family room and office to work on my blog once I moved myself indoors.

The evening brought one more pleasant visit. Mia dropped off a generous piece of the cake she had baked, along with some zucchini bread. It was extremely kind and considerate of her, and I appreciated it very much.

What began with passing hellos is becoming a friendship I look forward to seeing blossom, with Mia and Zach, their little boy, and, of course, Theo.

Today included food shared in both directions, visits with family and neighbors, and an old toolbox finding a useful new home. Those are things I’m glad to have been part of.

September 28, 2026

I got out of bed around 5:45 this morning, took care of my usual routines, and made my way to the kitchen for coffee by about 6:00. Frank was still sleeping on the couch but got up around 7:00.

Since he planned to return to the cemetery to continue cleaning family gravestones, I filled several gallon jugs with water and prepared a two and a half gallon sprayer for him to use for rinsing.

There wasn’t much opportunity for a morning watch. I did get the squeegee team moving and dried the entire deck and its furnishings, but by the time I finished, it was nearly 9:30 and time to leave to pick up my daughter for her doctor’s appointment.

I was barely out of the driveway when she called to say she had forgotten to set her alarm and was running late. I told her I would be there in fifteen minutes and to be ready. Patience has never been one of my strongest attributes. I arrived around 9:45 as planned, but she didn’t come outside until about 10:00.

I thought her appointment was at 10:30, so I was concerned about arriving on time. Partway there, she announced that we were going to be very early because her appointment was actually at 11:30. I reminded her that I had entered 10:30 on my calendar based on what she had told me. Rather than spend the extra hour waiting, we stopped at the Italian market in Monroeville, which I had already planned to visit.

We both picked up a few things, spent about an hour shopping, and still arrived at the doctor’s office roughly ten minutes early. I chose to wait in the car with some jazz and the coffee I had brought in an insulated mug.

While I was waiting, my phone rang with an unidentified caller. I nearly ignored it, but fortunately answered. It was the urologist’s office returning the call I had made last Friday about appointments and the proposed procedure. They had promised to call Monday or Tuesday, and despite my skepticism, they made good on that promise.

They asked about my current medical status, which prompted me to wonder aloud whether that information was already in my records. They scheduled me to come in tomorrow, September 29, at 2:00 PM . They also arranged a procedure to replace my current medical equipment with a different type, although I wasn’t certain I caught its name correctly. Between scheduling and the usual questions before surgery, we spent a good thirty to forty minutes on the phone. At least things are finally moving forward.

After my daughter finished her appointment, we headed home, stopping at another market for tomatoes for dinner. With sauce already prepared, my plan was spaghetti, fresh Italian bread from the market, and a Caprese salad.

Frank returned from the cemetery shortly after I got home and told me he couldn’t get the sprayer to work. Since I had demonstrated it that morning, I knew it had been working when he left. On inspection, I found mud or some other debris around the tip. Can't really say how it got there but it wasn't there when I gave it to him. After cleaning it and draining the hose, I got it working again.

My grandson also stopped by with a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts, announcing, “Here, I brought you something.” That was a thoughtful surprise. He stayed for about half an hour, and we had a chance to talk before he headed home.

Frank and I spent much of the afternoon chatting. I had hoped to finally sit outdoors for a little while, but Mother Nature put the kibosh on that plan with rain.

All that effort drying the deck this morning, and I never really got to enjoy it.

Around 4:54, with the pasta water heating, I took a brief seat in the family room and office to make a few notes for my blog.

We ate dinner around 6:00.

The spaghetti, Italian bread, and Caprese salad made a satisfying meal, accompanied by plenty of conversation that continued for perhaps an hour after we finished eating. Eventually, I turned my attention to cleaning up the kitchen while Frank moved into the living room to watch television.

By 8:10, I had finally made my way downstairs to try to wrap up the day. Aside from that brief pause before dinner, I hadn’t really had an opportunity to sit and relax during the entire day. I was thoroughly exhausted and hoping I could remain awake and alert long enough to get a few blog entries together.

There may not have been many posts today, but there certainly wasn’t a shortage of things to do.

September 29, 2026

It’s just after midnight on Wednesday, and I’m finally bringing Tuesday to a close after waking from an unexpected nap in the living room recliner. What began as a gray September morning turned into an afternoon and evening with considerably more surprises than I cared to handle.

I woke around 5:15 AM but didn’t get out of bed until about 6:45. After my morning routine, I headed to the kitchen, initially trying to be quiet because Frank was sleeping on the couch. Eventually, I went about my usual activities. I had already explained that choosing the couch over the guest bedroom meant dealing with my morning routine.

Around 7:00, I poured my first coffee and opened the patio door to an opaque gray sky, with little prospect of seeing old haymaker.

Neal passed around 7:12, slightly earlier than usual. I had a 2:00 PM urology appointment ahead of me, which I wasn’t particularly looking forward to.

There was at least the promise of dinner out. Frank had reserved a table for 6:00 at a nearby Italian restaurant I had heard good things about but never visited. The thought of an evening without preparing dinner was certainly appealing.

Before leaving for my appointment, I managed to bake two trays of cinnamon rolls,

pulling them from the oven around 1:19 PM.

After returning home that afternoon, things began going downhill. The LG television remote had stopped working. Fresh batteries, attempts to pair it again, and restarting the television accomplished nothing. I also spent about an two hours searching for a replacement without settling on one.

While preparing icing for the cinnamon rolls, I discovered that the equipment replaced at the doctor’s office was leaking. It wasn’t a large amount, but enough to cause discomfort and concern about an accident.

When Frank returned and asked whether I was ready for dinner, I explained that I preferred to cancel our reservations rather than risk a mishap in public. He went out for pizza instead.

As I finished cleaning up, I discovered that one side of the double kitchen sink wasn’t draining properly. That problem remains unresolved and will probably have to wait until after Wednesday’s dermatologist appointment.

After dinner, I packaged cinnamon rolls and four muffins for the doctor’s office staff tomorrow morning. I also set aside four cinnamon rolls for Bob and Barbra, with the icing packed separately, to drop off while passing through Greensburg. Two more rolls, also with separate icing, went to Mia and Zach. They stopped around 9:00 PM, and Zach and I chatted briefly at the door.

Shortly afterward, I settled into the recliner and began looking through the television listings. Apparently, nothing held my attention for very long. I fell asleep and didn’t wake until about 11:45, when concern about another leak sent me to the restroom.

Now I’m ready for bed, although the possibility of an overnight mishap makes it difficult to relax completely. Between the remote, the leaking equipment, the canceled dinner, and the sink, I’ve had quite enough surprises for one day. I’m hoping Wednesday allows a little more room to breathe.

September 30, 2026

I awakened around 5 AM on this last day of September and eventually convinced myself to get out of bed. By 6 AM, the temperature outside was 55°, with high humidity and a light southeasterly breeze.

Despite a forecast calling for clouds throughout the day, plenty of stars were still visible.

I seemed to have made it through the night without any major problems, although I remained cautious about the catheter situation.

Before leaving for my dermatology appointment, I packaged four muffins and four cinnamon rolls for the office staff. Bringing them something homemade has been a tradition of mine for quite a few years, a small way of expressing my appreciation for the care they provide.

I also turned on the gable lights to let Neal know I had something for him. He apparently understands that signal now, because around 7:15 he appeared on his way up to the deck. I had warmed a cinnamon roll, added icing, and packed it for him to enjoy when he got to school.

I left around 7:36 for my 8:45 appointment, allowing plenty of time for the drive. Afterward, I stopped at Bob and Barbra’s house to drop off cinnamon rolls and pastries.

Unfortunately, much of the day was overshadowed by problems with the catheter that had been replaced yesterday. Sometimes it drained into the bag, and other times very little reached it, with urine passing around the catheter instead. The leaking continued overnight and throughout the day, eventually requiring three changes of clothing. There had also been episodes of severe back pain earlier in the day, although thankfully that pain did not return later in the afternoon.

I contacted the urologist’s office and spoke with three different people while waiting for someone to call me back. Frank was out when I returned home, and not knowing when he would be back added to my frustration because I felt I had no one readily available to drive me to the hospital.

The office eventually called and told me they had sent a prescription to the pharmacy for suspected bladder spasms. When I asked about the leaking, they advised me to go to the emergency room. After having the catheter replaced in their office just yesterday, I found that response frustrating and unsatisfactory. I had hoped they would address the problem directly.

Around 3 PM, my daughter called, and we talked for a little while. I eventually had to excuse myself because I wasn’t feeling well and was quite tired.

It wasn’t until 4:24 PM that I finally made my way onto the deck for some fresh air.

By then, the weather had improved considerably. The temperature had reached 73°, the humidity had dropped to 60%, and a southwest breeze was moving through the yard. It was a pleasant break in an otherwise difficult day.

Frank called to say he was on his way back and asked whether I wanted to go out for dinner. Once again, I declined. With the unpredictable leaking, I simply wasn’t comfortable sitting in a restaurant.

After he returned, he made a short trip to a nearby eatery for takeout, bringing home an Italian hoagie and a quart of wedding soup. I warmed the soup and set the table. Frank enjoyed half the hoagie and two bowls of soup, while I managed a small bowl with a couple of crackers. I didn’t have much appetite, but thought it best to eat something light.

Bob called this evening to check on me and thank me for the cinnamon rolls and pastries. We spoke briefly, but I wasn’t feeling well enough for a longer conversation.

By shortly after 8 PM, I was tired and feeling generally unwell. I had experienced chills throughout the day and thought I might have a low-grade fever, although I hadn’t confirmed it. I wondered whether I might be coming down with the flu. The catheter trouble seemed to have eased temporarily, but I remained cautious and continued going to the bathroom whenever I felt the urge.

September ended with a little sunshine, a few opportunities to share something from my kitchen, and calls from people who cared how I was doing.

Unfortunately, the ongoing medical problems and the effort of trying to get them addressed occupied far more of the day than I would have liked.