"I have only one superstition. I touch all the bases when I hit a home run." - Babe Ruth

I’m in Seattle where the grocery carts have mud flaps.
Seriously - I took the folks to the grocery store because dad isn’t allowed to drive yet and they have these funky plastic grocery carts with knobby handles and enclosed rear wheels.

God never meant us to live anywhere that the temperature can be said with one syllable or that the grocery carts need mud flaps.

The plane was 35 minutes late getting out of Phoenix because some guy in the back of the plane cut his hand on something. He didn’t want to get off the plane and he didn’t want to cooperate with getting his bleeding hand fixed. Eventually the captain went back there. (You know things aren’t going well when the captain leaves the cockpit just before you’re supposed to be taking off and walks to the back of the plane.) Next thing, they’re escorting this man who looked to be in his 60’s off the plane, and one of the flight attendants is holding his carry-on at arms length as they go down the aisle. Then we watch airport staff in gloves going in and out of the plane, over and over. Thirty minutes later they explained what had happened - that they kept finding places the guy had touched and left a blood smear, which meant another trip to the back by the maintenance guys in gloves to clean it up. Weird.

My rental is a Chevy Aveo. It’s cheap.
Nothing on the car is power, including the engine. I didn’t realize they still made cars with crank windows. If you want the outside mirror on the passenger side adjusted, lean over and adjust it. Want the doors locked? Push down the four buttons. The thing downshifts to go over a speed bump and with 1,500 miles on the car what seems to be the trunk lid rattles as you drive down the freeway. Gerta matches up well with this Aveo in all categories and surpasses it in looks.

I started Condoleezza Rice’s book on the plane. Got 25% of the way through. Very good and easy read. I’m glad I got it.
And I learned the story of her name. Her dad wanted a son named John. He said if it was a girl (which it wasn’t going to be) mom could name it. Her mom was big into classical music and so, when she had a daughter, chose a musical term - the Italian con dolce, which means “with sweetness.” The “c” is pronounced like a “ch,” and her mom realized most people wouldn’t know that. So she spelled it out somewhat phonetically and added enough letters to make it sound like a name. Hence, Condoleezza Rice.
Now that I know the explanation I like the name.

We're headed down to dinner in the dining room here where the folks live. Sometime after that my younger brother is stopping by and we'll go together out to my parent's house to move a dining room table out of the garage, the only thing of theirs still left in the house. That has to be done now because a) it takes to people to lift and this is the only time we can both do it, and b) THE HOUSE IS SOLD! OK, not technically and finally sold, but they're supposed to close next Monday. It has been on the market for 10 months, which seems like forever to them but by contemporary standards isn't all that long.

When we were walking around the store looking for lightbulbs dad told me when they moved from their place here to the Ida Culver House he looked around at all the old people and thought he wasn't anything like them. Just in the last 9 months he feels like he's gone downhill far and fast (I agree) and now is just like them - stooped over and weak. I asked him if he thought there was a cause/effect relationship and he doesn't think so. It just happened that the aging process finally caught up with him in a big way, and did so coincidental with their move here. Except we both agree there's nothing coincidental about it! So when I asked him, "If you were still out at the house could you climb the stairs?" A: "Probably not."

As difficult as the move was, and as much as SWMBO fought it, there's no doubt it was the right thing to do. God led through the process.

Now, about the fact he's still driving....