First, I had a chat with the retirement plan folks. There wasn't any bad news; the call just reminded me of the fact that my day-to-day life is about to change. I am not worried about finding another job, but I am worried about finding one that I actually WANT. Working for The Boss has spoiled me something awful with a work environment I dare not hope to replicate elsewhere. And I am too old to be thrown in with a bunch of whiny, gossipy young women who'll resent my grumpy nature.
You may find me on the highway, one day, holding a SLOW/STOP sign for a road crew.
Following the retirement chat, I went to a funeral. My brother-in-law's mother. 90 years old, and had been in poor health - mentally and physically - for some time. She'd been a spunky thing in her day. Had to be, raising and clothing and feeding two rambunctious boys, mostly by herself. If you wanted to know her opinion about a thing, you needn't ask, she'd volunteer it. Even the Baptist preacher made fun of that in his eulogy. But she could make a good chess pie.
After the funeral, the church she'd attended served a meal for the family and some friends. Nice of them. There's always good macaroni and cheese at funeral meals. Grandma would've sent a chess pie, if it had been somebody else's funeral.
I'd just left the church and was about to head home when my daughter-in-law called in a panic. A tree limb had fallen and had hit the Little Rotten Baby on the head. I did a bat-turn and went to see about her. Turned out that three of the 4 girls had been in a swing - one of those trampoline-looking swings - when the limb broke. The swing hit the ground, and then the limb landed on top of them. It was a pretty good-sized limb, 'bout as big around as a muscle-y upper arm, but it was half rotten, so not terribly heavy. It scuffed all three girls but got the baby on the crown of her head and her upper back. By the time I got there, her mama had taken her to the fast med place, which technically doesn't handle head injuries, but they looked her over and thought she was not seriously hurt. When they got home, her mama washed her scrapes and we put medicine on them. The LRB was seriously pissy - and justifiably so! - about the whole ordeal.
I came home, put on my pajamas, put some laundry in the washing machine, and called it a day. There's a bag of new craft supplies in the kitchen waiting to be unpacked.
On it.
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