Grieving Gardener

_{by Admiral Chester Nimitz}

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,

I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health, that I might do great things,

I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.

I asked for riches, that I might be happy,

I was given poverty, that I might be wise.

I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men,

I was given weakness, that I might feel the need for God.

I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,

I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing that I asked for,

But everything that I had hoped for.

Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.

I am, among all men, most richly blessed!

Have the best day ever!!!

More tomorrow.

In this the crazy world of today, the Art of Gentleness has been lost. In my Daily Devotional Journal, I found a nice acrostic poem on the subject.

G — Gracious and good

E — Engaging, willing to listen

N — Nice to others, regardless of who they are

T — Taking the time to move at another’s pace

L — Loving

E — Endearing by act of kindness and goodwill

An interesting fact popped up on a few days ago on the Internet. Ah, what could we ever do without the internet, right? It’s been 52 years since 1970. Now, I would guess a lot of my readers could remember that like yesterday. I know I can. It was the year that I met VST and we became friends. That spring, I was a freshman in high school, he a sophomore. Heck, I could probably tell you what dresses hung in my closet as girls weren’t allowed to wear pants to school. It was so simple in those days. There were boys. There were girls. No confusion on that.

There were 52 years between 1918 and 1970. People (again, men and women) took pride in acting like a Gentleman or a Lady in 1918. People were civil to one another. Sunday was a day to rest and visit your church, whatever denomination that was. It was a day to enjoy visits with family and friends. I wasn’t there, but my grandparents shared stories. Life wasn’t all a bowl of cherries for them, either, being immigrants from the Volga area of Russia. They faced prejudice like others in our great country. They were too busy building a life to sit and worry about it.

In 1918, meals were cooked at home and every mom of that era would be considered a fantastic cook today. If her kids were living, she did alright in the kitchen. People raised their own food or at least knew bacon came from a pig and milk came from a cow. Not too many years after that, my dad’s family would take the family cow with them on camping trips because she needed to be milked and the family needed to drink the milk. She was an important part of their family and treated as well as any other cow in the neighborhood.

Back in 1918, people knew the neighbors for miles around. They knew who possessed what skills when they were needed. They attended each other’s funerals when people had just three days bury their dead. They celebrated new life in the community when a baby was born. They helped each other raise the barns on new farms, and raise the roof at weddings. Most people knew how to dance and loved the opportunity to do so.

In 52 years, the 1970 arrived.

In the early 1970’s, my family got our first nice television. Big and boxy, it was housed in a very large cabinet made of solid wood. You could still get things like that in the ’70’s. There were hours in which there was nothing to watch on television because the TV stations, (three in our town), went to sleep. Every morning at 6 AM, they woke up to the raising of our flag and the National Anthem.

News was just that. News. And not news from other parts of the country. News from our own town that pertained to us. Walter Cronkite was respected, whether he should have been or not. He was everyone’s friendly Uncle that had a calming voice as he delivered the nightly news. Everyone shut the trap and listened at our house. No extra yapping until the news was over. Maybe that’s where the troubles began.

In the 70’s, I remember buying my first tape recorder for $100.00. I had saved awhile, needing it for college. It took 6 “C” cell batteries and recorded words on tapes. My parents and I sat at the kitchen table trying to figure out the push buttons and how the thing worked. It was an amazing machine, almost the size of a small shoe box.

“But why can’t you just listen and take notes? $100.00?? So much money.”

I hardly heard them, while thinking about taping an entire lecture from Mr. Deacon in Biology. How much more time I would have to check out the guys in class! I used that tape recorder throughout my four years in college.

Fifty-two years later, today everyone has the phone. If you misspeak on a topic, there are plenty of people to fact check your information. You can find support for any position or belief on the internet. Need a recipe? Don’t worry about calling a neighbor. Just Google it. Need to find out opinions on the quality of a business in town? Google it. Plenty of strangers will lift up or tear down a business’s reputation with words on a screen. Five Stars to the best.

In the age of technology, garage doors stay closed. People hide from the virus. Connections are lost. Our society has lost something very special. Respect for others. Gentleness. Kindness. Sincerity. Tolerance. Work Ethic. God.

In the 70’s, I remember my Grammie and Grandpa S shaking their heads about society then. It must have been the end of the world coming, because the evil ways were shocking. No one in 1918 would have ever behaved like they did in 1970. Thank goodness they didn’t need to live in 2022. It would have blown their minds, for sure. Heck, it blows mine at this point.

Not all is lost. In a dusty little wide spot along the road in the high desert of Northwestern Nevada, I know a place. People still hug when you walk into a little church on Main Street. Neighbors wave to each other and stop to talk on their daily walks. Friends meet at the local Walmart. Weekends hold car shows and rodeo events. People fly the American flag and pray for our great country. Police and firemen are our heroes. Families keep their history alive and remind each other to be kind and gentle.

I know it exists. I live there.

More tomorrow.

Another weekend of sunshine here in the high desert of Northwestern Nevada. Bright blue skies have confused even the birds. A new nest has appeared on the back porch behind the garden Buddha that sits on a high shelf. With his little smiling face, he is laughing at the notion that this is winter. I, myself, am relieved the weather’s not worse while also wishing (just a little) it was.

I must say I did enjoy tackling the snow storm back in December. Hoping to get a little more winter driving practice of the snowy kind, I keep checking the forecasts for the next two weeks, but, nothing is coming. Days and days of nice weather are forecast. No winds. No hail. No snow.

The local lake, which dried to a little puddle last summer, is again filling. The melt from the December storm is making its way down the Eastern Sierra’s to the lake. Each time I drive by on my way to Walmart of the East, it’s shores have expanded. With any luck at all, it’ll be back to normal, providing a place for us desert folk to camp, fish, and water ski.

Longing to enjoy a little more of the winter season, I remember the days of teaching 3rd grade. After a few snow days, Valentine’s Day was notice that the year would quickly be over. In a flurry of test preparation, testing, and recovery from the test, there was one long celebration of Valentine Presidents Breaking for Spring and Memorializing the year. Just that fast, all the holidays were gone like the wintery snow and summer vacation appeared. I’m glad retirement doesn’t speed along that fast.

With social media, politics, and Covid, we all need the simplicity of a snowflake to side track us for a bit. Today, the news reported a law change that will only require a high school diploma to be a substitute in our Nevada schools. So very sad those are the skills lawmakers think necessary to substitute a class of children. In this crazy age of senselessness, the children are the ones that are being short changed every day. Kids and their teachers need a few more snow days to gather thoughts about school these days. It’s not what it was in the 1900’s.

Looking out on the back yard, there are so many projects that are awaiting real springtime. Although the sky is bright blue, the air is cold and crisp. The mornings find Oliver’s stainless water bowl frozen solid. It’s cold enough to snow, it just hasn’t.

Ace, feeling sorry for me as I whined about the cold temperatures during Sunday worship services, bought me the most beautiful full length goose-down winter coat. A pretty navy color with a fur-lined hood, it hangs by the front door ready for real winter to show up. It looks a little silly to head out the door prepared for a snow storm when the temperatures have been soaring to the 50’s in the sunshine. My new coat will need to wait a little longer to get every-day use.

Feeling out of shape, I could do some jumping jacks which resemble upright snow angels while requiring more energy. There is absolutely nothing prohibiting me from resuming a walking schedule at this point. Pondering the subject of winter activities, a better idea comes to mind. I’ll get a head start on my summer tan with afternoon soaks in the hot tub while awaiting the next storm. Bright desert sunshine equals lots of essential Vitamin D and beautiful skin. Win-Win!!

Thank goodness the Winter Olympics will be televised next week. Ignoring the obvious political discourse and propaganda associated with the games, I’m going to enjoy watching athletes achieve their dreams in a winter wonderland with the sound turned off. I’ll even sit through a few rounds of curling. I sure hope China has some snow to show us on television as we watch those downhill racers give it their all. Go USA.

If you are already sick of your snow, I apologize. Spring is just a few weeks away for us all. Everyone has a favorite time of year. Winter has never been mine, but a little snow would remind me of the season we are really experiencing right now. January couldn’t even call herself normal this year. Crazy is the new normal. I guess that fits the world these days.

More tomorrow.

In only a few short months, I’ll no longer be the mom of a deployed Master Sargent of the United States Air Force. For the last 25 years, I’ve been a military mom. There are no hidden benefits to being a military mom. No discounts or awards. No parades honoring us. When our children are deployed, there are not too many groups that remember us as we silently count the days until our kids come home. Blue Star Mothers of America offers support to each Mom while they worry in collective silence.

No one wants to become a member of American Gold Star Mothers. These mom’s have given the ultimate sacrifice with the loss of a child in the service. No one wants to get an invitation to that group. Their Mission statement shows direction while requiring fortitude. Finding strength in the fellowship of other Gold Star Mothers,  they strive to keep the memory of our sons and daughters alive by working to help veterans, those currently serving in the military, their families and our communities. No one asks for an invitation to that group.

My oldest son, Master Sargent J (MSJ), has been in the United States Air Force the longest. Now in the Air National Guard, he’s looking forward to retirement in a few short months.

I so remember the day VST and I drove him to a hotel near Sacramento, California to begin his journey towards boot camp in Texas and then beyond. A clunky high school graduate, he was half man, half child, skipping off on an adventure called life. VST and I cried our way home that day, not believing that the boy we both raised was going off to find his own way.

Years and years of training and dedication led him on a great career path. He patiently accepted every order treating it as the opportunity it was. His wife and children paid the price of hours, days, and weeks away from him during his service. Everything was winding down, with monthly soldiering taking time away from his family. Creating a successful business and raising three children, his hands were already full when he got orders for deployment to the Middle East at 42 years of age. 6 months in the desert.

When deployment orders come, young families put everything to the side. Plans to expand a business, vacation, get a new car, or do something new to the house are on hold. Everything comes to a stand still while making arrangements for the absence. My son’s deployment this time was especially difficult during the pandemic.

Mom’s are usually the last to get the news.

“Hey, Mom. Going to the desert. But, don’t worry. It’s a safe base. Safe. Safe. Really, Really Safe.”

That safe, really, really safe base was in harm’s way a few weeks ago. Calls stopped. Messages were short.

“I’m okay, Mom. I love you, Mom. Don’t worry, Mom. ”

Safe.

Safe.

Really, Really Safe.

Repeat those thoughts.

That’s what a military mom must do, over and over again. Don’t worry. Know you are loved. Know they are trained to survive and conquer. And pray. A lot.

Today, I’m sending off another care package. This one’s for Valentine’s Day. Hard to figure out what to send to a desert quite unlike my own addressed to a grown man of 42 who moved away at 18. Of course, what would a Gardener send? A tomato kit. What would a retired teacher send? Conversation Hearts. Lots of other little goodies filled the Flat Rate Shipping Box from USPS. There is a military discount at the post office not limited to mothers.

I filled the empty spaces in the box with prayers and love. Filled the box with good wishes and lots of wonderful memories. My son and those deployed with him deserve the prayers of a grateful nation. Without our soldiers around the world, things would surely not be as safe as they are today.

Look online for a ways you can support a soldier or his family. Troops are sent to places long distances from their homes and moms. If there is a base near you, contact them to see what programs are in place. If not, consider writing to a soldier that is deployed. Just because we are not at war, (at the present time), don’t forget that men and women are giving time out of their lives so we can be safe at home.

Be grateful for all the branches of our military and don’t forget to send prayers. It’s a scary time for our world right now for Mom’s everywhere.

More tomorrow.

_Anonymous

If you see a tall fellow ahead of the crowd,

A leader of music, marching fearless and proud,

And you know of a tale whose merely telling aloud

Would cause his proud head to in anguish be bowed,

It’s a pretty good plan to forget it.

If you know of a skeleton hidden away

In a closet, and guarded and kept from the day

In the dark; whose showing, whose sudden display

Would cause grief and sorrow and lifelong dismay,

It’s a pretty good plan to forget it.

If you know of a spot in the life of a friend

(We all have spots concealed, world without end)

Whose touching his heartstrings would play or rend

‘Till the shame of its showing no grieving could mend,

It’s a pretty good plan to forget it.

If you know of a thing that will darken the joy

Of a man or a woman, a girl or a boy,

That will wipe out a smile or the least way annoy

A fellow, or cause any gladness to cloy,

It’s a pretty good plan to forget it.

Be kind today. Look for the good in people. In this crazy world, it’s hidden sometimes, but there is good to be found. The world produces an abundance of bad every day. Choose happiness.

More tomorrow.

Still on vacation, today I’m writing to you from an unfamiliar setting of a ski lodge. I would love to say, “Never have I ever”, but the truth is, I have. Skiing didn’t go well for me the two times I tried it. Not just kind of “Not Well” but a miserable fail. I’ll admit, I do ski lodge well, just having downed a delicious cup of hot chocolate. Not homemade, but still really good.

Watching skiers ride up the open lifts with five people across, I’m not envious in the least. From past experience, it is quite possible to drop both ski poles and a glove while being suspended 100 feet above the snow. Yes. I found this out in my 23rd year. It is also possible to be talked into traveling heavenward on some ski lift, that drops you off in a sheet of ice, where it is possible to make five skiers fall in a heap. They turn the lift off for that, even though it hits many in the head before they can make that happen.

After those major lessons, I know it’s possible to fall about 53 and 1/2 times when trying to get down a mountain that is for advanced skiers only, until finally taking off the skis to walk down. Finally, it’s possible for one lone ski to zip through ski school, causing many people to become quite agitated as they yell “Ski”.

In my 66 years, I’ve learned a few things. I do ski lodge very well while having no desire to actually ski. Ace, on the other hand, skis with the best of them. 45/45 is his best. A 45 degrees slope at 45 MPH. Having witnessed this with my own eyes, this is true. What he wants with this Danish Dumpling is beyond me, but, he smitten he is. His athletic abilities are a fascination to me.

As I sit here, I find that unskilled skiers clumping around in ski boots on wooden floors are very annoying to a writer. However, I’m in their world. Everyone is so thin and tanned, it makes my hidden little seat in the corner and out of the way seem secure. Not being thin or tanned at the moment, I prefer being invisible at my own little table. Skiers are in a hurry. Everyone races around to get back to the five person chair lifts that goes to the top of the mountain. Like ants, I watch them traversing the hills, gracefully and in full control.

In a small way, I wish I could learn to do something even 1/10 so graceful, but that isn’t to be. Graceful is not a word that describes any part of me. Smart? Sometimes. Intelligent? A little. A writer? Absolutely. But, able to put one foot in front of the other and walk a straight line? No. Fergettabout sliding down ice and snow on two boards.

Ace, on the other hand, is able to jump small moguls with a single bound. Learning to ski at the appropriate age of five years old, it’s second nature for him to spend time on the slopes. He has skied resorts I’ve only seen in movies.

Coming prepared with my laptop, I planned to write while looking out at the breathtaking view. However, there’s a new rule in the lodge along with insane rules everywhere else in this crazy world. So sick of idiot rules, I cringed when I was told, “Absolutely, Without Discussion, and Final in Every Way……..NO LAPTOPS!!!!” Now, in this laid back, “Hey Dude” environment, what the heck? What IS the problem. There were four of us in a restaurant big enough hold 150. I’m out of the way. Quiet. Drinking $.25 hot chocolate for which I paid $3.25 at THEIR snack bar. My keyboard is quiet. I’m on MY hotspot. So, what’s the problem with my activity? The two employees that protested most likely failed their writing classes in high school. Jealous.

I got up to move to the Lounge at 10 AM when it opened, thinking the vibe might be a little more relaxed there. Helga of Baskerville informed me of the “NO LAPTOP” policy before I even got my two feet into the place. What the Heck??? Mattered not. Places where 10 people are drinking beer at 10 AM isn’t good energy for me, “DUDE”. I went back to reclaim my territory in the restaurant.

With blaring music from an antiquated sound system, I wish that I was in the comfort of Winterpast with sweet little Oliver at my feet. This place with it’s athletes and winter warriors isn’t my cup of hot chocolate. At least, for 2022, I can add it to my list of adventurous outings and plan to sit in the hotel hot tub later today. I’m glad Ace is having a wonderful time doing what he loves the most. Glad I got to experience a little of it with him.

Whatever you do today, try to stay upright. Ice and snow are slippery to negotiate. Keep that in mind if you venture out. Remember the sun screen and go have a great day!!

More tomorrow.

Living close to a vacation spot has definite benefits and temptations. Although my dusty little wide spot in the road offers no entertainment or services, I only need to drive a little ways to find everything a person could want. It is from here that I write this blog entry today.

My favorite thing to do on any day ending in a “Y” is to enjoy spa services. People that have never been to a spa must wonder what could possibly be this wonderful. Well, you must try it sometime. The only spa I talk about is the one I revisit as often as I possibly can. Three stories high, each level offers different services. The first floor has gender specific dressing rooms and facilities. In the steam room the warm fog is so thick it’s hard to see if anyone else is using it. A dry sauna feels like the desert in August. There’s a cold plunge to use after either of these two treatments.

A very large Jacuzzi provides a private space for cackling in the cauldron. The few times I’ve visited the gender specific area, the incessant talking has driven me away. Why is it that some people can’t enjoy peace and quiet? I will say, an author could get some pretty steamy material for upcoming blogs if only my laptop could take the humidity.

To complete this area there are the best showers, shampoos, potions, and lotions. There are vanity areas in which ladies can put themselves back together before they head back into the real world. Every detail has been covered, with the results making a spa day effortless.

After my 50 minute Swedish massage on a table that translates Zen music into tiny vibrations, I found myself again using the zero gravity chairs in the Reflection Room. Glowing on a wall size projection screen, the night skies of places around the world are so beautiful I wonder how they can be real. As often as I’ve come, the Reflection Room is not a place people congregate to visit. Always empty, it calls to me.

In the Caldarium, men and women settle into comfy lounge chairs or bob around in the heated swimming pool. Although the Nevada temperatures are in the 40’s, you’d never know it. The caldarium is an inside room protecting everyone from the elements and is a great place for brides to treat their bridesmaids to a day of pampering. Just listening to the bubbling of the two spas and distant conversations of gossiping women, it reminds me of a day at the beach without the sand.

Even though this is a place of relaxation, State safety rules must be followed carefully. Hilariously hung that on one wall, dusty and out of place, there is a life ring next to two emergency shut off switches. Wrong on every level. Dust in this gorgeous facility seems totally odd and out of place. Besides, how could someone drown in a spa where the depth of the pool is 3’6″? This is rather funny. Of course, in my world, that person could be me. Good thing I spied it and can give a shout to others if I need it.

The men in the caldarium enter, most with darting eyes. Although they know they shouldn’t, they look here and there, while knowing they have entered a space reserved for the luckiest of women. Men can be quite amusing to watch under such circumstances.

As I enjoyed my Crab, Avocado and Pita Nachos, the bubbling and soothing sounds of water nearly drown out a conversation two women were having across the room. Although I couldn’t quite follow everything, it seemed there was a “SHE” that was on their doo-doo list. Every time I heard the word “SHE” emphasized, I got the definite impression that “SHE” wasn’t their favorite gal. I did consider moving closer, as the thought of more topics for my blog came to mind. Just as well, I remembered to be quite thankful it was not “ME” that was this dastardly “SHE”

After such a strenuous day, it was time to move on with the rest of my day. The resort made it possible for me to BOGO the hotel room. I do need to remind you, staying near a tourist town has its perks, but also its temptations. i plan to enjoy the glorious winter sun. Another winter storm is right around the corner.

Whatever you are doing today, please pamper yourself a little. In this crazy world, we all need to slow down and remember that this moment is really all we have.

More tomorrow.

My internet failed last night.

I will be back tomorrow after my network is up and running.

Have a wonderful day.

Joy

If you have any access to a baby, run, don’t walk, for some fun. Babies are some of the finest people in the world. Period. They live their life in the moment, just taking everything about this crazy world in, while making everyone around them happy. Here’s the deal. You can’t be anything but happy in the presence of a baby. Even when they pitch a fit, they are irresistable.

Yesterday, Baptist on Main had a very special day. Along with Holy Communion, a special guest of the littlest kind came for his Dedication. Little Mr. Dandy Pants sat in the back, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Of course, being only months old, he depended on Mom and Grandma to pick the right seat. Pastor C introduced himself to the little guy, but the baby was having nothing to do with strangers. Mom had obviously taught him well.

Funny thing about babies is that THEY KNOW. When it was his turn up front near the pulpit, Little Mr. Dandy Pants was okay at first. Of course, the entire congregation just melted. Here is this tiny little guy who controlled the room. His mom had him dressed in a tiny little shirt that said, “Ladies, I Have Arrived”. He looked from person to person, most of whom were older than Grandma. Every one of us were immediately in a better mood from receiving a single gaze. Truly, this little guy could work a room.

Now, Pastor C can be a little scary to someone less than 2 feet tall. Sporting a beard longer than this child and a booming Southern Baptist kind of voice, Pastor C wasn’t immediately accepted as “Friend”. Little Mr. Dandy Pants tried avoidance. He looked everywhere but the direction of the Pastor, while getting the tiniest of worry lines above his eyes. He was figuring out that he was the center of attention for some adult reason. The problem was, he didn’t quite know what would happen next.

It was then that he started to cry with the faintest whimper. Even more adorable, he clung to his mom’s finger and became more worried as Pastor C went through the meaning of a child’s dedication to the church. Finally, the time had come for Pastor C to hold the child and anoint his forehead with oil. The faintest of whimpers turned into a full blown ruckus every angel on high could hear. Little Mr. Dandy Pants made it known he wanted his Mama. NOW.

In a matter of minutes the dedication was over and he was returned to the safety of the back row in church. Everything quieted down again and the service went on without another interruption. Little Mr. Dandy Pants fell asleep with those little hiccup-y sounds all of us retired Mom’s remember. Everything was okay now that Mom and Grandma were on guard on the earthly side of things. I am sure the angels were singing about the newest little boy brought to Jesus.

it would be fun to fast forward decades to observe The baby as an old man. Many people choose to sit in the back of the church. Maybe his seating preference today will follow him through life. I wonder if he’ll sleep through services then, too.

Babies. One of the brightest spots in the universe. If you have one, spend lots of time snuggling with them. If you don’t, try to borrow a snuggle once in awhile. Babies know a lot. Have a wonderful day.

More tomorrow.

In this crazy world, we can all use some scheduled rest. A day in which we give ourselves permission to stay in jammies and snooze. One in which we do exactly what feels nice and peaceful. Everyone needs this, but sometimes it’s easier said than done. Either we find ourselves behind, swamped, or interrupted. And yet, rest is one of the most important things a person needs.

Not only rest of the body while sleeping, either. Our necks need a rest from looming over a keyboard. Our fingers need rest from typing emails or texts. Our brains need relief from constant stress and worry. Ringing phones or continuous video conferences leave us frazzled. Our eyes need rest from computer screen strain. Our spirit needs a rest with the constant evil bombardment from this messed up world.

How many of us race around in our cars like we’re speeding through the Daytona 500. There’s always a million errands waiting for us. Watch as people drive here and there, frowning on their way. Worse yet, so busy they forget to take their masks off in the car. On overload, we all need to stop and find one thing each day that brings happiness.

I got the sweetest email from my Godmother, Auntie TJ the other day. She wished for me a happy day. She mentioned how much lovelier the world would be if more people would just find happiness. She knows a thing or two. On the subject of happiness she is 100% right. What if our politicians in Washington, DC would smile at each other once in awhile? Genuinely smile. What might happen if the entire place just had one good belly laugh? Maybe they could cut through the insanity and get to work to fix problems that are making citizens more unhappy day by day.

What’s a person to do? I try unplugging for at least one hour every day. Turn the phone off. Darken the television screen. Turn off anything that rings, dings, or sings and enjoy the quiet that follows. Sometimes quiet can seem absolutely foreign but it’s definitely something of which we all need more.

During whatever time period you have, try to avoid conversations of any kind and be peaceful with yourself. What comes to mind? The feeling of solitude may be shocking at first. Give it a good 15 minutes with your eyelids down. The less sensory stimulation you have the better. Focus on your breathing as you let the rest of the world handle the troubles for a little bit.

Having the luxury of scheduling a daily nap at 12, I find Oliver eager to join me. The two of us melt into our respective beds and refuel our energy reserves. It’s one of the best perks of retirement. Rest during the day, while turning off the world and quietly resetting.

The garden is another wonderful place to find mental relaxation. As much as I poke and prod at them, I’ve yet to get a verbal complaint from my rose bushes. With a breeze and the bright blue sky, the sounds of nature complete the picture. It’s a great place to forgive, grieve, and get on with happy thoughts.

As every morning, it’s early hear, just past 5:00 AM. I’m going to take a little of my own advice and get a little more sleep before I’m off to Baptist on Main. Have a restful Sunday.

More tomorrow.