Thank goodness for bellytops. That is what my laptop is now. I am like a board of lumber resting against the sofa: my head is on the back rest; my knees are locked and my heels are on the floor at an angle. The laptop is sort of balanced on my  belly. Of course, my little hands have to reach up like claws to type but nothing is perfect.

Yesterday I plugged the address in Attica into the GPS and headed out. It was okay until I turned at Hwy. 24; the GPS lady had wanted me to go farther on I-69. She kept telling me to make a U-turn. I thought she was bluffing and would recalculate the course. No. I looked at the screen on the phone and saw writing so at a stoplight, I looked. It read, “This GPS session has been terminated.”

So I made her wait . . . and then 30 minutes later reentered the address and she agreed to tell me where to go.

This morning I was not going to go to Indianapolis to Crate & Barrel but I decided I had spent the gas money to go this far south, so why not. I put C&B in the GPS. Now, because they have been working on I-465 for years, I figured missing sections of roadway would be taken into account. She told me to take an exit that was not there so I took the next one. Then she told me to make a U-turn and I thought, well, maybe the ramp on the other side is open. No. There was nothing there.

So I turned around again and headed into Speedway and she absolutely refused to do anything but tell me to turn around. I turned her off for a while. On the way out of Keystone Mall (and, by the way, I did not yield to the temptation to visit the Apple Store), I put Fort Wayne in the GPS so I could have guidance finding the right entrance ramp.

Ha. Something didn’t take and she tried to get me to go back to Keystone Mall. I got on I-465 all by myself but the signs were down and it started to rain AGAIN and I missed the turn to I-69 and had to turn around (my own idea) at 56th Street.

We didn’t speak for the rest of the trip. I just leaned her up against the console and let her look out the passenger window.

One month ago today Jody passed away. And this evening, LZP walked out back and on her magnolia bush was one bloom.

Glenda and I are watching TV with a tornado warning scrolling across the top. Can you see us waving from the side door.?

We ate dinner at the Possum Trot and then Glenda drove us home in a torrential rainstorm.

Glenda says, “Hey.” I told her to; it was a trick “hey” but she’s nice would have said hi anyway.

She says if the need arises, she’ll get me up to go to the basement. This is the fourth storm system of the day. The first I encountered on the way down and thought that the hail was going to break my windshield – really. The second was at lunch with Sue and her husband Marshall, Ann, Glenda and the three ladies’ brother Duane.

The third was after the trip to Kingman Fraternal Cemetery (of which I have pictures) and now this green, yellow and red abstract art project.

Oh, yeah, Robert called and there is a limb down over the driveway.

I woke up; it was dark. I thought my watch said four; a blink later it was ten after five. I don’t know – maybe I read the watch wrong the first time, or perhaps I had a mini-snooze. No harm done since I did get up when it was dark and therefore early enough to get ready to go to Kingman with flowers for Daddy and Miss Alice.

I’m meeting my cousins, all of us granddaughters of Byron and Nellie Grismore and we’re going to put flowers on the graves of our grandparents and great-grandparents. The old people. Not so old in terms of the Earth, but if you think in a generational sense . . . yeah, the old people.

Yesterday, I took off and flowered two cemeteries and then mowed the Scott lawn – at least a huge part of it. It was necessary. The mowers had been in the shop and the rain and humidity were a great cheering section for anything green. IT WAS A JUNGLE OUT THERE!

Right now I am going to go over to Google maps to review the trip plan. In this state, Indiana, all roads lead to Indianapolis, so you have to be creative in going other places. I think I will use GPS in places where roads blend with other roads and then peel off in their own identity again. I like it when the voice says . . . Calculating new route. She’s going to have a nervous breakdown today.

My first stop will be in Attica to meet up with Susie, Glenda and Ann. It’s on Highway 41. Then we’ll travel south to Kingman to the cemetery – it’s just a wee bit off of Highway 41. I have a vague memory of my dad telling me how his father used to take the kids out to watch the engineers build it way back then.

Usually, a lot of fields are full of yellow mustard blooms this time of year. That is not too interesting, but it is really pleasant to see when thoughts are about people loved and gone. Perhaps it will be my “Rosebud”; some young whipper-snapper doctor will pronounce time of death and ask, “What did she say at the end? . . . . fields of yellow mustard blooms?”

I do hope I am getting ahead of myself here.

Well, I have fallen down on the Keeping Sane with Shane blog and the FOS (Friends of Shane) is letting me know it. So I am going to post two pictures over there. And I will post a picture here of me sitting in an imaginary corner.

I heard that sound just a minute or so ago. Summer came to the door and said a branch fell down. I thought she said, “A bridge fell down.” It was so clear. So I said, “Really, but I’m talking about that thump I just heard.” And she emphasized that it was a bridge. So I said, “Bridge?”

Well, we got it figured out but I don’t know if it came down broken-end first or if it plopped, spreading out the impact. I will go look; just not now, not right this minute.

Let you now.

AmeliaJake’s orange pants

Lucky day at the grocery – Time to barbeque

It is geranium city in the dining room. Geraniums and other little filler plants. They are sitting there waiting for for me to engineer this watering, preparing and delivering pre-Memorial Day week. I may put them in the garage and make certain I keep the door down because I don’t want a raccoon getting interested; that happened two years ago on Mother’s back porch.

Counter space is limited in the kitchen and with the number of people here who actually expect to use that room for food purposes, it would be difficult to do a sink to counter to sink to counter rotation. Then there is the dirt – that which will be removed when I stick in a couple of fillers or transfer stuff to different pots completely.

Five pots. Five. I told someone in the nursery that being the youngest was pretty good when I was younger and pampered; now, it is just me and five pots.

So, I got a shallow combination pot for Mother because she is at Sturgis and I can get up there to keep track of it. For one thing, Sturgis’ fast food places are closest to the Scott house and about six blocks from the cemetery. That works with grandkids when you’ve dragooned them for rural work.

My Grandpa Shimp is buried in the same group of plots as Mother, but has a big stone urn so I will be doing that arrangement in situ: a couple of nice geraniums, a spike, trailing ivy – maybe a bit of asparagus fern.

Still I have to go to Kingman on Wednesday, coming back on Thursday with my dad’s flowers. I’ll be combining plants from a couple or three pots into one special one.  And Miss Alice, I can’t forget her geranium  to sit above her ashes in front of Daddy’s grave.

Now that leaves me with putting a spike and ivy in a pot of geraniums – some of which I will have removed  – for Grandma’s grave. Geraniums and fillers for  Auntie, who was the nicest person.

My uncle’s grave is supposed to have a perpetual care program, but I’m thinking that went by the wayside and so I’ll put flowers there. He was in high school when Mother was born and he’d come home and say, “Here, let me take her” and he gave her a whole dollar during the Depression to spend at Corn School.

But Der Bingle is coming Thursday night and I’ll be getting back from Kingman and rushing around cemeteries Friday morning doesn’t seem wise. Saturday is kind of last minute . . .

So I guess I’ll go to White Pigeon and Sturgis on Tuesday afternoon. But first I have to do the transplanting thing. And, oh yeah, I’ll need to wear nice clothes and a saucy hat – can’t have Grandma and Mother thinking I’m letting the team down.

Then maybe on Saturday we can drive through those two cemeteries and see that every thing is okay. And then grab a burrito at Taco Bell.