Yay! My precious little dryer is restored to health. Guy came from Anchor Appliances and replaced a something and a something else and it works fine. Cost $150, which really isn't bad, I guess.
Went to Bob's Garden Center and got new hens 'n' chickens, then to the cemetery and planted at both Pat's and Jay's. Spend considerable very hot and dusty time pulling weeds around Pat's; didn't need to at Jay's. They both look nice and, as tomorrow is the first anniversary of Pat's death, Betty and I will go. I want to take pictures for my children of their father's grave and hers of their brother's.
Was surprised and so touched to get a beautiful azaela "tree" from Mike in remembrance of his Dad. It has a very unusual twisted trunk and the blooms are a lovely deep rose. He thought I would be able to plant it at the grave, but according to the information on the card, it looks as if it's an indoor plant. I'll call or e-mail Calyx Flowers to ask about it.
Talked to friend Marge, who's having a lot of health "issues," as the stupid cliche goes. I'm afraid they're more health "problems," but at least we had a nice chat.
Picking up sister Betty today. She'll be staying here because she has her house rented for the coming week. Got a nice e-mail from Noelle, saying they'll go to the lake this weekend and inviting me to go. Maybe I will and bring Betty to introduce her to Noelle and her boys. We'll see.
WIDER: The NYTimes, ever the enthusiastic cheerleader for our country's murderous ways, has a video feature today on a ceremony for the "fallen" (geez, can't they ever say "killed" or "dead"?) from a small town. The rhetoric was predictably awful, long strings of the most hackneyed cliches and, at the same time. horrible beyond words. The "fallen" were remembered by their comrades. One talked of how his friend "valued life" (yeah? whose life?) and a Christian clergyman. This is someone who, presumably, has dedicated his life to the Prince of Peace, yet he larded his prayer with expressions such as "this noble generation of heroes...," thereby giving a nod of approval to all the hired killers we employ.
Insanity! These people are dead! That's dead! They're dead now, they'll be dead next year, they're dead for all time. And so are the slaughtered in the countries they invaded. What comes to mind is Shirley Jackson's classic story, "The Lottery." In it, residents of a small town express some uneasiness and regret about an unnamed event scheduled for the near future. At the same time they agree that tradition must be followed and the unpopular chore completed. Slips are drawn and a woman draws the one with the black mark on it. She is then stoned to death by the townspeople.
So sad, too bad, that these heroes are gone. See how their children cry and their parents grieve? Oh, but deny tradition and end the slaughter? No, no, we must be true to our heritage and continue to bring death and destruction to ourselves, to our comrades, and to our "enemies."