Go to a parking lot and put sticky notes on peoples' cars saying, "Sorry for the damage." Then watch them look for it.

We split up tis morning. I took dad did the driving while we ran several errands and Scott stayed at their unit to help mom with some tasks there. Dad's having cataract surgery next week so we went to the hospital for pre-op tests. Then to the grocery store, the pharmacy for post-op meds, and the bank. Scott moved things our 4'8" (that's generous) mother uses from upper cupboards down to within reach and things she'll never use again to the upper shelves. If parts of that operation seem less than perfectly logical you've joined others of us who have learned to go with the flow.

My aunt Pat and her BFF Caroline brought SubWay sandwiches for lunch and we had a great visit. She's the middle child - the youngest, Jack, died several years ago - and aside from using a cane and hearing aid Pat's doing remarkably well. The one sad part of our visit came when they told us they recently sold their numbers matching 1963 VW Westfalia (camper bus) with 50,000 original miles, still wearing the original tires (!) for $15,000.
I wept.

I have been seriously off the paleo wagon since I walked into the Phoenix airport early Monday morning. Two days later I feel like a bucket of cement. I don't find the tastes a wonderful throw-back; I'm not being transported to wonderland for once again eating the sugar, breads, and dairy that were part of our pre-paleo eating habits. Yes, my mother's desserts are a serious treat for the tastebuds, but I won't have any trouble going back when I get home. And maybe part of it is the psychological effect of knowing I'm eating stuff that isn't particularly healthy.

My dad grows orchids. These blossoms were on the table at lunch. Not bad, eh?

Tomorrow morning I'm meeting my friend Jim for coffee. Besides being someone I've known since grade school he's a car guy. Lots to catch up on, easy conversation, and a guaranteed good time.

For now, good night.