Pass the Baton...

http://storiesfromtheroad.typepad.com/

I've had a quiet, dreamlike, and pleasant afternoon mostly listening to old music minidiscs I've recorded in the den over the years and reading old Model Railroader magazines as well. Maggie spent her time policing pedestrians on the road in front of my house. The time just flies when I do that. Then?

Unleash the hounds...

It was good to see my father pull up in front of my humble abode this evening. Maggie's been sitting and looking out the den window and she alerted me to his arrival.

"Has your mother called you today?" my father asked after ingressing into my home. "I am hoping for a soft landing when I arrive at my garage. She's been suspiciously quiet today."

My father was heading home from the pharmacy he once owned. He worked 10 hours today and he gives me my medications every night on his way home from work and his day's off as well. I like it when he gives them to me after work as he seems much more prompt on those days. He is not mesmerized by the television -- the contraption he can barely tear himself away from.

"Mom called and asked me what the time was this afternoon," I replied. "I told her to look at the clock on her bedside table, but she said she didn't trust it."

Dad smiled generously and shook his head amusedly.

"Your mother's a pistol," my father replied. "Just like her mother was before her."

"Leta (mom's mother) could out-do them all!" my father said chuckling and laughing.

I always called Leta in the kitchen and my mother as well with an affliction called "bake and hate". They will get Christmas dinner ready, but they would resent you for it as well -- slamming kitchen cabinet doors disgruntledly. Dad loves for me to talk about that affliction as I was the grandchild who came up with the phrase.

"Charlies coming next," my father warned me with a grin. "Things are about to get busy at your house and you know he will have something good to eat as well.