So R. and Grant pruned all the rosebushes and R. cut several flowers to put in the house. There must be at least 25 rosebushes out there, but the ones I like the best are called Sterling Silver. They're just a pale lavender color, maybe a tad grayish, hence the "silver" moniker. But it's not necessarily the color that gets me -- it's the smell. Divine! R. says it smells like an old lady's perfume, but he hastens to add that's not a bad thing. ;^) Anyway, I put about seven roses in water in the house and they were absolutely beautiful. I wonder if I can grow roses in big pots on the deck of my new home...

Today Grant and I left R.'s place to return home. "Home" currently is my parents' house, which Grant enjoys because it means he can see Grandma and Grandpa every day. My mom is an artist with a day job, so Grant loves to draw with "Grandma's special crayons" -- her pastels. The colors are so vivid and moist-feeling, like you could just eat them or wear them. Or something. So when Grandma returned home today, Grant immediately asked if they could draw with the special crayons. How could she resist the sweet way he asked? Soon they were drawing on a big sheet of paper on the coffee table. Well, mostly it was Grant doing the drawing, and Grandma encouraging him. I think we'd both be happy if he turned out to have artistic ability. The kid loves music, that much we know already. But of course I'd be happy if he just found anything he liked to do. That's all that matters, isn't it?

I'm exhausted today. Bone-tired. I have no idea why, although I suspect it has something to do with my staying up too late to watch Oprah's biography on TV last night. Couldn't help it; she intrigues me. Plus I slept on the giant (bed-height) air mattress last night, and although it sure beats sleeping on a futon, it does leave a little to be desired in terms of firmness and temperature. Yes, it was hot in the house again (no air conditioning, and an indoor temperature of about 85 degrees F), so sleeping on a bigole piece of rubber doesn't help matters.

I have a deadline on Wednesday, and one on August 1. In between writing those stories I have to pack to move to San Diego. And take care of Grant. And take him for a play date with my girlfriend's 4-year-old. And, and, and...too much to mention. Maybe my tiredness comes also from stress. I'll sure be glad when the move is over and I can settle into my new home.

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