We spend a Tuesday afternoon in a bar...

Here's a shot of the back yard thermometer I took at 6:30 Sunday morning. The angle is a little off, but it did actually read 32 degrees! I wasn't expecting that in the middle of June, but there you have it. Apparently, the flora around here is used to this kind of thing; no damage was done that I could see. Sure was a hard way to wake up, though. And the barn people didn't even bother getting to their many feet when I showed up with breakfast. I don't know Al Capony's history, but our Bella is definitely a southern belle and probably would have a strongly worded protest for me, if she were able to talk about this whole moving-to-Wisconsin thing.

Monday would have been Norma's 83rd birthday, if our math is right. It's hard to believe she's been gone now for 14 years--I could have sworn it's only been a couple. Something definitely happens to your concept of the passage of time as you age. I read an explanation somewhere that goes something like this: when you are 4 years old, a year is one fourth of your entire experienced life. When you're 40, a year only counts as one fortieth of time as you've experienced it so, relatively speaking, that year seems to be a much smaller chunk of time. Or something. An interesting thing to think about while shoveling horse poop...

Then on Tuesday Mom turned 77.  I can't believe how well she's doing this year!  A couple of years ago she asked me to take her "home" to WI so she could die where she had been happiest, but today that event seems to be a long time coming.  Whatever grumbling I may do about the weather and bugs up here, I'm glad I did this if only to give her a couple more comfortable years.

Janette came over around lunchtime and we set out to celebrate.  First,we headed over to downtown Ogema and the Extra Innings, her favorite local tavern, for a decent hamburger and a cold beer.  Only for her, though--I was driving and Janette doesn't drink.  We ate and drank, and Mom got a WI fishing license so now she can take her little red wagon down the road to the Little Mondeaux creek and do some fishing.

We also met the bartender, Sandy, who had already heard of us from Dick and Pat Kilty, our neighbors. 

It made me a bit nervous to think that our reputation had preceded us, but Sandy assured us that the Kiltys had nothing bad to say about us.  And after all, it was Dick who recommended the tavern to us as a good place to get a burger, so we can assume he's a regular and would mention the fact that he had wonderful new neighbors, no?

After that we braved the construction zone in downtown Medford to pick up prescriptions and do a little odds-and-ends kind of grocery shopping.  By the time we'd finished that, we were all pooped and the celebration was pretty much over.  None of us does all-nighters anymore...