Back at my "main" machine, and trying to get enthused about finishing the booklet. I am tired, and so are the dogs. Rudy took one look at the lawn (which needs mowing), turned around, and went back to his basket. Pretty incredible, because he loves the outdoors, although he is very particular about not getting dirty, and he likes the yard groomed and immaculate! The length of the grass didn't matter to Sophie, who didn't bother to leave the bedroom at all. She is my "special needs" hound. She is temperamental, I guess from being abandoned by her former owners, or maybe they were mean to her. She also has severe allergies to pollen and grass. We are presently trying to remedy this with Omega 3 and Omega 6 fatty acids, and B vitamins, with a Benedryl on occasion for immediate relief. It will take 8 weeks or more to see any results, and she has been on this program for about 3. Edna, the cat, did decide to venture out, probably because at the other house she is more restricted, there is rain in the forecast for tomorrow, and so she wanted to take advantage of the beautiful day.

Speaking of lawn mowing - I put in the garden at the other house, which is why I am tired. This reminds me of why I need to exercise more - I don't like being so sore from digging. But I do love planting things. It was wonderful. Better, even, than writing for pleasure. On my agenda at the moment is putting in my garden here, so I am hoping the weather is good this weekend, although I will do it in the rain, if necessary. Visions of fresh organic vegetables dance in my head...

Sunday afternoon was the cemetery trustees' meeting. We had a complaint from a plot owner, about a neighboring grave. Last September, a 35-year-old woman committed suicide, leaving her husband and 12-year-old daughter. I have a lot of thoughts about suicide that I won't go into at the moment, but the people were complaining because the family members of the woman who killed herself have adorned the grave as a sort of shrine, in the way that you see along the highway near where traffic fatalities have happened in recent years. It is a small, rural cemetery, and we have no rules about such things. The only restrictions have to do with planting trees, so we are within our rights to tell the complaining people to take a hike, which is what we decided. (In a nice way, of course, with language about compassionate consideration.) Anyway, after the meeting was over, I walked over to the grave in question, and it is pretty clear that the daughter has had a big role in creating the memorial. There was everything you can imagine set up there, sand with sea shells, a little plastic fence, wind chimes, dog statues, angels and cherubs, various garden decorations, a big crucifix and cross and other religious mementos, and a piece of slate with things like "I miss you every second of every day" written in chalk in a kid's handwriting. I guess it could be described as tacky, and perhaps inappropriate, although those weren't the first descriptive words to jump into my mind as I stood there. I tried to imagine what would drive the people who complained to leave that place feeling anything but touched, choked up, thoughtful, and sad. Why would they decide to contact the cemetery trustees? Why would people with such set ideas about what looks nice in a cemetery not have selected a more formal, strict one for their loved ones anyway? Why would they believe it would be right for us to tell that little girl and her father to remove those objects and add to their grief? What ugly people.

Also on the agenda, June updates to my website. (But they are not priority items on my list.) I have taken out my paper journal again, as it serves a different purpose (and at times it is more handy than a PC).