Battle of the Bulbs

Hi everyone,

The last two days we’ve enjoyed highs in the 60s so a lot of people have been out working in their yards. For Christmas our friend Elaine Fry gave us fifty tulip and twenty-five daffodil bulbs so yesterday we decided to get them planted.

Turns out to be harder than I’d expected. I took on the planter box in front of the house and worked for an hour and a half digging holes eight inches deep six inches apart and planting one bulb, pointy end up, in each hole. When I finished, I looked at the enormous number of bulbs left in the sacks and figured it will take until spring to finish this job.

Meanwhile Sandy had been working around the corner. This was hard work and I felt a little sorry for her.

“How are you doing?” I called out, so stiff I could hardly climb down from the planter. “I’ve planted six. How about you?”

“Eight,” said my M.O.W.

I decided to let the poor thing rest and take it up again today.

Pool room memories

Hi everyone,

Friday night dragged. We’d read the paper. Neither of us was into a compelling book. TV was a wasteland. I’d gone after pizza and made cookies. We didn’t feel like going to a movie. Couldn’t find anything on Netflix.

We finally settled on playing pool. When we designed the house in 1989, we put in a special room for a pool table because Sandy’s dad, Ralph, loved to play and was good at it. We thought it would give him something to do when he came over to visit.

Ralph loved the room and we spent a lot of hours playing pool until he no longer had the strength for it. On the last time he and I played (in his 90s), I set out a recorder and taped our casual conversation as we moved around the table. I still have the cassette but one of these days I need to move the recording onto something more accessible. I want to hear his voice once again. He was a wonderful man. We miss him.