Saturday

Saturday morning breakfast of black coffee and a mince pie while waiting for Joe. Much to my joy, he did not go yesterday, but stayed another day, and in half an hour or less is leaving to drive home to Winston-Salem, NC. An engineer, Joe is prompt and precise. He usually comes to see us twice a year, and when his departure day comes round, he wakes at five o'clock, gets ready, has a bite of breakfast, I think this morning his mom is making him a fried egg sandwich, and leaves almost precisely at six o'clock. With normal traffic, his drive takes nine and a half to ten hours and he calls us upon arrival. 

We have loved him dearly, and Joe has been a thoughtful, kind and loving son all his life. 

After Joe left, I came back upstairs and made me a hobbit's traditional second breakfast, three eggs over medium on a slice of sprouted whole wheat bread, light smear of Tabasco. One of many favorites.

Today, furosixty and counting. Hurrication: in that, as life well knows, life does not always have to meet one's expectations, nor should one expect life to; besides one never knows how many minutes are left, I'm at accept, relax & enjoy. Including this year loved ones made Christmas perfect from go to finis. 

Okay, furosixty was twenty minutes ago, 
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--

And whether pigs have wings."

T