Scott has been doing a lot of shingling in town. His cousin Perry, on the right, works with him most of the time. They are often mistaken for each other by people who, as Scott says, "should know better."

I'm washing the sheets on Emil's bed and about to start dusting and spit-shining for Cathy's imminent arrival. Not that she cares, she insists, but her home is so spic and span that I am quite sure she will be as appalled, when entering my home, as I have upon occasion been upon setting foot into some dwellings. I'm no housekeeper, except for the kitchen on my good days, so if you see me not wanting to take my shoes off to enter your kitchen, you know a place is dirty. Not just messy: dirty.

Our plan was to spend tonight and tomorrow night at the lake in a lovely little cabin on the water. When the plan fell through two days before our gals-getaway, I immediately called Cathy in case she'd prefer to postpone her trip to a later date instead. But she was already looking forward to our visit, she said, and it doesn't matter where we are. So we will squeeze her in here, which is not so tough because Emil has been at Camp Easter Seal since Thursday. She can have the boys' room. Everett has been sleeping on one of the couches in the basement for many months already, so she will have the bedroom to herself.

Everett will have the basement to call his own at the other house, Emil will have his own bedroom, and there will be an extra bed somewhere with Cathy's name on it. She hasn't been out here for years though, it seems to me.

***Shelly, your tomato plants are flowering but not fruiting yet. My romas are forming. With some hired help I got caught up with the weeds and now the garden looks decent. There are piles of weeds to be moved and burnt still; they're unsightly but I only have eyes for the flowers and hardly notice them.***