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HAPPY FATHER'S DAY to all the men in my life, past and present.

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 Some days are full of doing tasks and chores that Cliff did for me.  The floor wasn't that dirty but he enjoyed saying. "Guess I need to pull out the vacuum.  I'm tripping over debris."  I thanked him.  Whenever I was in the kitchen trying out new recipes, making cookies or the double batch tapioca pudding for him, he was there beside (getting in my way sometimes) washing the utensils, pots/pans, cutting boards, drying them and putting everything back in their proper places only to have me take some things back out and  reuse again.  "I just washed that" he would state.  He learned to ask if I were through with things before he cleaned up after me.  I thanked him.  He emptied the dishwasher when it was finished in such an orderly manner (getting in my way sometimes because I was also in the kitchen working but he wanted to be there with me).  I thanked him.  Every morning he made my bed reminding me of the order that the pillows needed to be placed.  John&
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 When I woke this morning a little after five, very rested, no head talk in the night, I wondered how to fill my morning since it was too rainy, damp, dark, dank to walk in town. Going near any store was not an option and we are under a weather alert for high winds with possible 30-40 mph gusts that could down limbs and branches.  I did 30 minutes yoga live with Hannah then while eating my oatmeal breakfast Michael texted me that he needed a childhood picture of himself for his accounting firm.  They want to update the employee bios with childhood photos.  Hmmm...........that's a challenging task.  I pulled out all the boxes from the bathroom closet, brought them to the living room where I would have plenty of room to sort and go through albums.  Looks like those boxes hadn't been move in quite some time.  The large roach hotel was dated back to April of this year and it was time to vacuum up the dead debris behind the boxes.  I actually moved everything off the floor and clean
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 Saturday mornings are Farmers Market mornings.  It's my time to stroll through the three pavilions visiting with familiar vendors and adding new ones to my routine.  There is so much wonderfully fresh produce weekly and I have had to control what I buy now or I'm throwing food away.  Last week I bought a North Georgia Candy Roaster squash. They are sweet and make delicious pies.  The old farmer who sold it to me is one I try not to engage in  conversation with during the sale. His conversation never stops while I'm cradling the heavy squash. Once I broke away from him I hooked a golf cart ride with a volunteer back to my car, placed the heavy squash in the back, and returned to the pavilions.  I've frozen many of the veggies for fall and winter.  This morning I was compelled to stop at a pipe display, not that I was thinking about taking up pipe smoking like the old mountain women, but what caught my eye and brought up unexpected childhood memories was the craftsman us
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