So the Man in the Moon was bragging last night about how much bigger he was than he normally is. Somehow this sounds familiar. I really couldn't tell much difference, could you? Big, bright, and beautiful in a cloudless sky, but no magic, at least, not in my little corner of the world.

I got a call from my neighbor at 8:31 demanding to know why Obama is going to war with Libya. He leans right in his politics and I lean left, so needless to say, we have had heated exchanges about who's smart and who's dumb. He keeps asking me to name 5 things Bush did wrong and I've given him a long list of mistakes Bush made. Yesterday he told me to write them down. Since he's the one who keeps forgetting, I told him to write them down, not a form of neighborliness I would recommend, but somehow we have maintained a friendship that has many twists and turns.

Just proves what G.K. Chesterton said: We make our friends, we make our enemies, but God makes our next door neighbor. Maybe for some higher purpose, I was planted in the house next door to this fundamentalist Pentecostal Republican. I thought it was to drag him kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Now I'm beginning to think I should just leave him where he is to evolve in his own good time. Or not.

It is so incredibly peaceful at Benji's house, I'm wishing again that I could stay longer. Seeing my hometown come alive in the springtime sparks a rebirth in me that softens and opens my heart to the possibilities of beauty and love and growth. I may drive the Trace going home to prolong my enjoyment of Spring's greening.

My 6 year old grandson is playing a gardening video game in the next room. Listening to him make up the dialogue as he plays does this grandmother's heart as much good as the blooming of the daffodils and Japanese Magnolia outside the picture window. His speech delay is slowly, but surely, correcting itself. He initiates strings of sentences that I can finally understand, so I can lay that worry to rest. He says he's ready for Gramma to go home, so I'll pack my bag after lunch and take off. He loves having his daddy to himself, and I try not to interfere with that while I'm here. At least, my presence doesn't distress him like it once did, more progress for which I am very grateful.


I made hot dogs for mine and Benji's lunch. Pip will only eat the buns and only when he decides he's hungry. He's still a very picky eater. Last night, he asked me for crackers. I offered peanut butter, then cheese to go with his crackers. "No cheese, no peanut butter, just crackers, Gramma!" he told me very plainly. Today he's had a cup of dry Trix. At least, those are made of whole grains now with more fiber and vitamins and nutrients than they used to have.

Yesterday I had fine Southern Cuisine at Ms. Ruth's in Verona, and the day before I stopped at Lake Tiak-O'Khata for another buffet lunch loaded with similar fare.  I rarely pass up an opportunity to enjoy old-timey home cooking when it's someone else's. It's about time to pack my bag and hit the road.

Wonder what tonight's Supermoon will bring?