Living, Because I Didn't Die

No matter how much I wanted to climb into the grave with my husband’s ashes, I didn’t. Why? Because he died. NOT ME. I may have to remind myself of that some days, but it’s the reality of the situation. He left this planet. And, if you’re reading this, you didn’t leave it, either. So, let’s get to the business of living, shall we?

First off, I got to the business of putting some plants into those raised beds so that we’d have some life growing in there, and some FOOD. My trusty garden adviser and friend, Karyn, and I planted a truckload of varieties of tomatoes, onions, squash, strawberries, pumpkins, cucumbers, zucchini, beans, peas, corn,  and melons, and will be planting potatoes when they arrive, a plethora o’ herbs into containers, three kinds of berries, and possibly an espaliered fruit tree that grows four types of stone fruits.

Gradfather Memorial Garden 

Then, I headed out to do a little more living with some longtime friends and toast to Bob. Don Julio did not let us down. He’s a good man, that D.J. Lots of laughing, a little drinking, and good Mexican food—just what’s needed for living.

IMG_4209 The kids did a little living, too—time with friends and family, movies, BBQs, and Weird Al. (Yes, Weird Al is still keeping his pimp-hand strong.)