Friday Night News

It seems that this is indeed the Promised Land. Everyone here either drives a Mercedes, Lexus, or BMW. Okay- maybe not everyone…but it seems like it. Enough about that.
Thursday a.m. I was dropped off at a mall, to search in vain for various things, including an Easterish looking thing to wear because it looks like we are actually going to attend church on Easter Sunday. Funny - it’s one of the most commonly attended church services in the year, and here we were, thinking we weren’t going…but now it looks likely…and I’m stuck with extremely casual clothing. Rgh. I mean, casual could probably pass in most churches on most Sundays…but I’m afraid this isn’t one of them. Well, suffice it to say, I failed utterly to find ANYTHING…but as I spent my time fruitlessly searching the mall, Brad had a good contact with an accountant who gave him some good advice re: the house etc. but that’s all boring stuff and none of your business anyway so let us move on. After Brad picked me up at the mall, we proceeded to drive up to Sacramento in the Tigermobile and descended upon Aunt Glady’s house. ( Even with MapQuest, we managed to do a little repeat of last year’s unplanned detour routine - I.e. getting lost - …which served to give us a nice little sightseeing jaunt among the streets of the Capitol. ) WELL! Aunt Gladys seemed glad to see us and we were duly informed of ALL her latest news…which was QUITE A LOT, let me tell you…She has been through more upheaval in the last month than I would care to ever experience…including a hilarious story about one morning when she thought her water heater was exploding. She thought she heard cannons and was scared out of her tree…but it turned out that some air had gotten into the pipes or something and the water heater was working it out of the system. Anyway - the way she told it, I was practically crying, I was laughing so hard. So pretty much all we did was talk, eat a feast of a dinner, talk, and then go to bed, sleep, and get up and talk some more. She had a lot of good things to say, and encouragement and advice to give…and then we were off once more. Nate and Penny, we stopped in VACAVILLE on the way up for lunch and nearby it on the way down. COWTOWN! And we duly yelled, “ The NUT TREE!” as we passed by that esteemed establishment.
We came home, hung out and talked to Grandpa for a little while. Brad and Grandpa drifted off to talk in the carport and I sat on a stump in the backyard, soaking up the sun and doing NOTHING. And then BAAAAAAP. The bell of the middle school went off and you would have thought all heck had broken loose. One moment there was relative peace and quiet, and the next - bedlam. When poets wax lyrical about how children laugh and chatter, I guess they’ve never been privy to Friday afternoon after school gets out. The only thing I could hear was SCREAMS. Good grief! All I could think about was that verse in the Bible that talks about the calves being released from the stalls. And then, lo, there was a boy climbing over the fence, and apparently crossing the creek, and POP- here he came up into our back yard. He sauntered up the bank quite naturally and when he looked around and saw me sitting there just watching him, I think it gave him a little jolt. It reminded me of my own grandfather’s back yard, which he jealously guarded against just such occurrences - I.e. school kids using it as a shortcut. Grandpa Sawtelle was a sign painter - among other things- and he made signs that he stuck up in his yard like, “ NO CUTTING THRU!” Grandpa Pass is a different breed of Grandpa. He doesn’t really care and in fact, probably welcomes the kids to come through.
Anyway, I am way dragging this out. We popped into Walnut Creek where Brad had a good talk with the lawyer - more stuff that isn’t any of your business, and if it IS, then you’ll hear about it at another time…and I perused Barnes and Noble…and then we picked up some groceries, picked up a couple pizzas, and came home where we had dinner and watched Father Goose. Good old Cary Grant. There’s all the news that's fit to print.