My Weekend

When I turned on my computer this morning, there was an e-mail from my friend Judy that she sent yesterday. She drove herself to Indiana to see her sister, who has metastasized cancer with a poor prognosis. All of us (her friends) thought it was extremely important that she go there and spend some time with her sister. She arrived safe and sound. I admire her courage. I would hope that if I were in a similar situation, I too would be brave.
 

She wanted to know how my weekend was. How was it? Well....
 

After a delightful walk in the early Fall-like morning, I spent most of the day Saturday working on a long, tiresome paper for the gastroenterology journal.

Sunday morning I heated up a slug along with my coffee in the microwave (I forget to check before I shut the door).

I remembered to wash my hair in plenty of time before I left for church. Last Sunday I washed my hair 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave, but managed to arrive on time.

Heard a good sermon on God’s generosity.

Finished a delightful novel for young teenagers, The Incredible Guinevere St. Clair.

Our library has a collection of Mark Twain-nominated novels for young people. I have read several of them and enjoy them very much.
 
Watched a fascinating program on Nova on PBS about the slime mold Physarum polycephalum

And to close out the evening, I dropped one of the lovely cordial glasses, which shattered.

The six glasses we ordered were shipped from England and arrived here in perfect condition. We knew one of us would break one eventually, but it was just awful and I really hate it that I was the one. 

So, as one of my brothers (who has sold his house, packed up and moved his family to Idaho just in time for Winter -- are they ever in for an adventure!) would say... there you have it…

Not in the Palmer style

 “The pages…. Look like the scrawlings of an hysterical octopus."

Ilka Chase Free Admission

This is about Richard’s sense of humor, but it may take a minute to get there.
 

Some of us were taught cursive with the Palmer method in the early years of elementary school.

I think, though, that how we write is sort of hard-wired to be either legible or not so legible. I dunno for sure, of course. I am sure there have been studies on this, but I haven’t investigated. 

My Dad was a lefty, and his printing could be a little difficult at times. I was mostly able to figure it out. 

 

The sample is from a letter he wrote. I love his description of the “mail lady.”
 

 My mom had beautiful handwriting. 

 

This sample is from a family history she wrote for our son.

I did not take after her. My worst grades in elementary school were in handwriting and mathematics. I can write quite legibly, if I take my time, but usually my hand can’t keep up with my brain and so my writing starts off clear but usually deteriorates. And if I am in a hurry? 

Richard had a call in to Todd, our computer repair person, and he told me what he wanted me to say when Todd called back. 

 Translation:

Modem out
we have another
How soon can he come
(dead in water)

Last week I cooked two big family-size packages of country-style pork ribs and then divided the meat in portions of about 6 to 8 oz each in freezer bags. We have learned the hard way that everything that goes into the freezer must be labeled, otherwise we end up with packages of mystery meat. 

I wrote him a note (everything has to be in a note because of his ADD): Make 5 rib labels. The note was probably not very legible, but he didn't keep it. This is what he gave me before he did the 5 labels.

 

I can't imagine what it would be like being married to someone who didn't make me laugh.