My dad has a brother. Had a brother? I'm never certain which tense to use after someone dies. Anyway, I have an Uncle Mike, but until yesterday I hadn't spoken to him in twenty-ish years. No real reason for not speaking to each other-- that's just the Caspers way. He lives in Oklahoma with chickens and cows. Honestly, I could hear the cows mooing while we were on the phone.
Talking to Uncle Mike is a lot like the scene in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows when Harry meets Aberforth. If you've read it you know what I mean. If you haven't read it, why are you wasting time reading this rubbish when there is something so much better out there?
Well, my dad was no Albus, that's for sure, but he did have a kind of magic, and a certain disregard for the rules.
Meanwhile on the other coast, R and Sweet Potato are yukking it up. Sweet Potato's dance card is full, and R is enjoying a margarita with the old gang as I write this. Makes me want to poke out my lower lip a little bit.
Ah, but tomorrow I'm going to the hardware store to buy high temperature calk, and I didn't even know there was such a thing until today. Also, my friend Ruth is coming to visit! Yay! So I should stop feeling sorry for myself and tidy up.
Oh, and Obo finally called to tell us he arrived safely in England. We think he is caravanning about now (what we here in the US like to call camping).
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