Walmart/Subway. Mixup in the order. Tuna for me. Chicken salad for Mary.

The outpost. Perfect weather. Just warm enough that short-sleeves and warm breezes in the shade were welcome. Bucolic scenes in the field below. Round bales of wheat scattered here and there. George and Bill on tractors raking hay. George walking, looking for arrow heads. Domestic scene above, as Mary watered plants and set out petunias.

I was as peaceful as I ever get. It took a pesky mosquito to convince me, finally, to go in. It was sundown.

72.6 °F, clear.

Leah brought a little ray of sunlight into our lives again today. It's been a while.

Tilapia for lunch, with stewed acorn squash and a mix of barley, whole grain rices, quinoa and sweet peas.

While Mary and Leah dozed on the couch, I put in some time at the outpost.

By the time niece Denise picked up Leah, I was feeling rather chipper.

76.8 °F, clear.

Dreamed I was at Mother's estate sale and there were no bidders.

A crushing ennui. Mornings, I rush through breakfast and bath, so I can sit comfortably in my chair. Then, I sit in it until I hate it and myself.

While Mary was at mass today, I got myself moving, with some difficulty. At the outpost, I had nearby sightings of rabbits, turkeys and a groundhog. But, that wasn't enough to break me out of my stupor.

Cheese Krystals for lunch.

On another outing, I noticed the red clover is beginning to flower and there's at least one specimen of blue-eyed grass next to the driveway.

Parts of the field are already covered with valerianella. Mary should have her first red rose tomorrow.

Deborah went to cemeteries without Mother today. They are having a tiff. Mother wants to be petted. Deborah only offers sternness. Burned out, I fear. But, there's no vacation for her.

The bronchitis has diminished to the point of being almost unnoticeable. Surely tomorrow it will be gone entirely.

72.8 °F, clear.

Posted Mother's bank statement last night. Room for improvement.

Partied with Miles Davis, album Cookin' on YouTube. Sweet.

More of Mary's soup for lunch today.

This evening, I accompanied Mary to St. John's for a First Communion service. We were invited by niece Andrea. Her step-daughter, Mary Warf, was to be one of the participants.

Deborah called to report on her Rachel's graduation ceremony in Pulaski. It's been a long struggle getting there.

All day, my system has been near the point of shaking off the bronchitis, but victory remains illusive.

For several days, Mary has had to deal with a right hip that seems to slip out of alignment.

Many more complaints of lesser import. Achaques de la vejez. Thus it is with old folks.

58.7 °F, clear.

10:45 am appointment for Mary at the Outpatient Pavillion in Columbia. Check of her pacemaker. My cough got me hard looks in the waiting room.

We lunched at O'Charley's. Mary had her usual potato soup. I ordered a half BLT with fries. Coming away, I felt very fatigued, a little nauseous.

Stop at the new Dollar General store just outside Columbia. Robitussin and Halls lozenges for me, a dinosaur riding stick for Leah.

Back in town, we stopped at Celebration for my monthly injection. Mary spoke to one of her Salvadoran friends who works there.

I was totally wasted by the time we got home. Oxygen dipping to as far as 89%. Took more oxygen, getting my level as high as 98%. This is a temporary situation. My basic 94% will return whenever the bronchitis passes. That's what I want to believe.

George came and got the riding mower to start up. Bad connections. Good to have a brother.

53.7 °F, clear.