- Breakfast - Toast and Coffee - the coffee was the last in the tub, and since I didn't go to the store, I'm not sure how I'm going to manage tomorrow morning when I slither downstairs and reach for my mug.
- Lunch - Left over noodles and rice - Chinese Food, the meal that keeps on going. Tuesday's $20 covered dinner for 3 (plus 2 kids who don't eat anything) and 4 lunches. Lots of value in that.
- Dinner - Slow Cooker Baked Beans - sooooo good. Anything with molasses and brown sugar has to be good. Entree and dessert all rolled up into one! Plus a couple of slices of nice soft just defrosted home made bread.
- Snacks - Muffin, Yogurt
The rest of this entry is the beginning of what may be another mini-chapter story in the manner of The Clothesline Wars. I'm not sure where this is going, maybe nowhere, but every now and then I'll tap a next line and see what happens. My heroine hasn't a name yet, but I imagine she'll let me know the perfect one as I continue. Poor thing, she doesn't even have a plot either.
CHAPTER ONE
64 years old today. Over half a century. If, as planned, I live to be 120 years old, over half my life is behind me. Well. I guess I should figure out soon what I'm going to do when I grow up.Oh, I've already done all the normal things a gal born in the last century was supposed to do, which included maintaining my virginity until I married Brian, the first fellow to offer me an engagement ring (which I never got, by the way). I gave up my promising career (keeping house for two senile brothers) and settled into some kind of domestic bliss, which was fine most of the time, as long as I kept my mouth shut. Two boys, who grew up and moved away, and two girls, one who loves men too much, and one who doesn't care for men at all. If nothing else, the past has been .... interesting.
The past 10 years or so, it seemed the husband and I were just playing a waiting game, to see who would pop off first and leave peace and life insurance for the other. Seems like my liver won that particular race - although it came as a complete surprise to me that he had neglected to pay the insurance policy, and I was left only with the house (actually the one I was born in, so I can't even thank him for that) and a bar tab. Lovely.
The only liquor in the house now is a half-filled bottle of wine, which sits between the plate with the leftover pieces of birthday cake my oldest daughter, Julie, brought, and the urn with the leftover pieces of Brian. Since he had no wishes to discuss his send-off before he succumbed to cirrhosis, it's up to me to decide what to do with his ashes. I know where I want mine to go - a few scattered over the Atlantic, a few tossed in the Rockies, and a few in other places here and there - but the first place I think of for his would be River Livet. He'd never been to Scotland, but he would probably feel right at home where his beloved Glenlivet whiskey is distilled . I think he'd be happy there.
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