Trash day always a bit of a fright as the truck rolls by around 6:45 like it might want to snatch your can but doesn't until maybe 11 or 1 or 9. Like the guy said when asked a while ago, "We just don't know when, where or how much". It's just garbage. S went off for an allergy assessment in Everett as well as a booster and a thorough vacuuming of the Subaru with a short foray into Costco, but not to wrangle my Rapaflo pee amplifier, rather for cheese. For my part I poured 4 gallons of hot water and detergent down into the black and gray water tanks, drained the fresh water and sloshed my way over to Les Schwab to have them check the crack in the front right aluminum wheel. Other than to say that if it failed I was fucked the guy there couldn't help. Texted up B and went for a walk for the update on the bike tour which was challenging and was he glad to be home. He feels he may well buy a scooter so he and his partner (who already has
on the trail of the village water line R exits ferry with dog (hidden) Another rondelay to Freeland and beyond for a cartridge and then the next day a ham hock. The cartridge was for S and the ham hock for the Romanian pork and bean soup which was a lot of trouble and tasted like pork and bean soup although the caraway seeds added something different. Tuesday there was supper at Dean and Mary's house out Saratoga. Wednesday there was a dinner here at home with Bruce and Deon at which the Romanian soup was served. Both those events were relaxed and chatty. R brought Marbles over on the boat for a handoff as she prepared to fly to New York for the wedding of Maxwell formerly of the Huff Post days. There was at least a good walk on Tuesday up cemetery and down to commons for a cheddar and jalapeno bagel in which D and I rediscovered Jay's wetland project back of the old middle school field and D got into some deep black swamp mud, but I was able to commandeer the h
some dog in my living room some guy in my living room can now make a poached egg exactly the same every time Trotsky's cousin The week on the Peninsula is now the stuff of myth and I must deal with a cold head a lot. Mr. D is growing old; in the new math for dogs' age vs humans' he will be 40 in a few months. S may have found an answer for her cough. R is packing and repacking her Corolla to see if she can make it bigger for the peregrination to Pittsburgh. As to walking, that has fallen-off with the chemo, but I still have to walk the dog and get the spicy bread and butter pickles from the cheese lady at the Greenbank Farm, so there's that. It was girls night yesterday, but Langley could not offer any table space at any suitable venue, so they came home to my house. They were nice to me with some joking around and they were outside in the backyard so it wasn't a bother. Z came for to play with D. Mothers Day travel pill box (1 of 2) am & pm
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