It’s Sunday and it’s a Sunday.  Patriot Day.  10 years after 9/11.  The radio is broadcasting all the ceremonies.  And I’ve got my head stuck up my ass about something I’m mad at JB about but I can’t even pinpoint why I’m mad.  Just dumb Sunday morning mess.  And his denial of pretty much everything.  Infuriates the hell outta me.

Edie wants to hear the same two books—Dr. Seuss’s ABC and Hand Hand Fingers Thumb.  Dum ditty dum ditty dum dum dum.  That’s a book I never owned but remember looking at whenever we went to the flying saucer orthodontist with Mary.  That book and old issues of Highlights.

We have so many morning glories—weeds, volunteers—that they’re growing across the grass off the driveway.

The bright side is JB made pancakes.  We had leftover buttermilk.  Pancakes taste good.