Skip just called to say he's running late. He had to make a trip to the chiropractor this morning before leaving. He's hurt his back. Hmmm! Grandchildren and a hurt back, don't they kinda go together? I've got sandwiches and salad ready to eat. Surely out of peanut butter, pimento cheese or tuna, his "finicky" eaters will find something they like. I may do some grilled cheese, too, and add ham, pineapple and lettuce for those who want it.

Mike has been in an extra-cantankerous mood this morning. I told him a couple of days ago that I was going to Memphis alone and he's been upset ever since. Now you see why I didn't tell him the truth about the trip to Tupelo? He is "the control freak from hell" by nature. Nothing raises his level of anxiety like not being in control of whatever he wants to control. Most of the time it's me. Those of you who know me know how my independent nature finds that so intolerable. It ain't easy keeping the lid on to avoid ...

Maybe I'll get a few moments alone with my favorite counselor while he's here. That's always a good way to blow off steam. Blogging helps, too. Just exposing his nastiness to cyberspace sorta takes the power out of it.