Yesterday, I went out and sweated and hurried and got everything ready for storms and NOT ONE DROP OF RAIN. I was in a storm mood; I wanted heavy rain. After a bit, I got disgusted and decided my hair was humpy and went and got it cut; it is more in a summer mode now – better suited to humidity and not so vulnerable to taking on the shape of hats, headrests and so forth. I’d take a picture with my little computer camera, but I slept on it wrong, which is pretty hard to do with this cut, but leave it to me. I’ll have a talk with it later and we should be able to come to an understanding.

Because I was going to clean up the house while it rained yesterday, I still have clutter and official dirt inside. Yes, there is a law about cleaning if it is not raining. I’m certain I can cite it. Yes, here it is: AmeliaJake, 2016 – Book of Eccentricity.

Tomorrow will be a two cemetery trip. I’ll probably arise early with my urns and set out shortly after dawn. Oh, did I mention the relay on my low beam headlights is out and probably can’t be fixed until after the holiday. A Recall, dontcha know.

My cousins who put flowers on Daddy’s grave for me also talked about our grandparents who are buried beside him.

Sue and I talked about the porch swing and the bandstand in Kingman yesterday. When we put the flowers on Grandpa and Grandma’s grave yesterday, Sue said we really loved these people. Then we talked about the sweet moments when we would be with them. Frying chicken for us and hot tea and grandma letting us walk to Grandpa’s barbershop and he would drop everything and go buy us ice cream.It was a simple life, but you knew they loved you.

They also took care of my cousin Robert Allen, whose mother, their daughter, was ill. He was once talking with Mother and told her how Grandpa would say at bedtime, “Well, come on little buddy”; he added, “They must have been good people.” There are other stories about Bob – how he would walk around with six-shooters around his little waist and sit on the sofa by launching himself onto it from two feet away, turning in mid-air. And my dad teaching him how to NOT eat peas with his knife . . . and then the moment Daddy was looking elsewhere.

I’d say the Indiana soil is enriched by the Hoosier dust mixed in with it now.