It has been a busy day around here, but I can smell the pink fish in the oven, and I am calm and happy. We all woke up in good spirits, because the business part of His mother's death is getting done. You have to have a paper to prove you died, it turns out, and He has had to run around all over the place to get things signed and checked. He made one mistake, though. He took His mother's wheelchairs all around to try to sell, but no one was interested. He did all this in Friday afternoon traffic. Even Kasey and I know that is not a wise time to be driving all over the place. He is knackered and ready for His nice dinner when it comes out of the oven.
She is happy to be planning a lunch with a bunch of Her ladies next week. The beloved people who just moved back here from halfway around the world want to visit that lovely place to eat that was made by Her MusicGuy's boy. Every time She has been there, She has felt like it is a nice place in a lot of ways. That makes it perfect for her dear ladies.
But now I must go check on the dinner fixing. You would not want me to miss my chance to have some of that pink fish, would you. Oh, and I told you I would report on the package from Her PoetryGirl. Yes. It did come and She was totally in a happy dance over it. So long for now.
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