All day long, Dad thought it was Tuesday and was getting ready for a visit from the Home Health people. Even after I told him it was Monday, not Tuesday, a few hours later he would say,
"Since today is Tuesday..." and I would have to remind him again that it was only Monday.
The neighbor across the street, Mrs. Brown, is so sweet. She called on the phone and asked Dad to come over because she had something for us. He returned a short while later with a bag containing one quart of homemade soup starter
(stewed tomatoes, corn, and okra), a pint of stewed tomatoes, three potatoes, and a mess of freshly-picked okra. I washed, peeled, and chunked the potatoes and got them cooking in a soup pot while Dad washed and slicked the okra. Once the potatoes were cooked, I opened the home-canned goods and dumped them into the pot along with some water and a smidge of pepper. In very little time, we had a wonderful pot of soup!
Mom hasn't been in a frame of mind for us to discuss her surgeon's recommendation that she undergo a bit of chemotherapy to be certain that the cancer is gone. Since her scheduled appointment is tomorrow, Dad and I thought it best to try to talk to her. I explained to her that the surgeon removed all the cancer he could see, but that sometimes a few cancerous cells can remain undetected. She had trouble understanding this concept, so I used a gardening analogy, something with which she has had plenty of experience in her life. If one is pulling weeds, it is easy to miss a small piece of root or a seed that has dropped, and another weed plant might grow from it. A little weed-killer can go a long way to be sure nothing is missed. It seemed that she understood that analogy perfectly. She said that she would have to — and I quote —
"think on this with my fingernails." 
When I checked-in with her later in the day, she thought she needed more time to reach a decision. I, too, agree that decisions are not her forte with her present frame of mind, so I called the oncologist's office and asked that we defer the appointment until a later date when her mental and physical condition are more stable. Whether we ever reach that day remains to be seen.
A small, two-lane country road winds around the north face of Glassy Mountain. This is the view presented when one is approaching the mountain from the west.© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com
It is simply impossible to continue blogging the highlights of every single day, especially when some days leave me so little free time or so exhausted.
Last night, I washed a few dishes in the sink and setup the coffee pot before going to bed. When I pulled the handle downwards on the kitchen faucet to turn the stream of water off, it would not stop. I played with it for a bit, but there was always a steady stream of water coming out of the nozzle regardless of how the handle was positioned. I finally discovered that if the handle were pushed downwards and held very firmly, the stream of water reduced to a rather steady drip. Being that I have a Bachelor of Science degree in Jury Rigging (courtesy of my father's genes), I took a piece of sewing elastic from my mother's stash, inserted a couple of safety pins to make a tight band, and wrapped it around the faucet's nozzle and handle, making as tight a seal as I could to keep it from running all night.
There once was a boy from Quebec
Went to Wal-Mart in the evening to get BOOST® for Mom, EQUAL® for Dad and me, and duct tape for Dad. Duct tape used to be available only in silver, but nowadays they have blue, red, yellow, green even hot pink! A couple of extra dollars would even give you a roll with a floral print on it! The mind staggers...
For the first time in several days, Mom got up today for more than just a visit to the bedside potty. She allowed Dad and me to escort her to the table where she ate a small bowl of homemade soup with Dad and me. She spent the whole afternoon in the den, first in her recliner and then on the sofa. She ate a little more soup with Dad and me for supper before going off to bed. Wow.
If you examine the enlarged snippet (shown at right) of the main photo, you might catch a glimpse of some white paint on the granite face. As far back as I can remember, high schoolers like to paint the last two digits of their graduation year on the mountain as a teenage prank. Most of the numbers are painted largely enough to be visible from miles away. Examination of the mountain in aerial photos or Google Earth will also easily show the numbers.
appear on Glassy's face thirty-five years ago. 
