It's quiet on Eegeebegee this weekend. Last Saturday, all the family within driving distance converged to celebrate the news that the Colonel was going to be a grandfather x 2. Number One son and the mother of my first grandson (an exalted position for which she receives regular accolades) drove up from the Redneck Riviera to bring the good news. I'm hoping for a granddaughter. My mother laughed at that hope and proclaimed, "It'll be a boy."
Caleb had a blast. He loves rocks and the gravel road up to the house was just an amazing bonanza. He would toddle along, spy a rock, bend to collect it, and announce as if it were not one among millions on the drive, "Ock!" He took great pleasure in pitching his "ocks" in the pond, and was amazed when the rock I threw skipped a half dozen times. Great age--everything Pop does is magic.
But this weekend, I'm alone with a flock of hummingbirds to keep me company. Miss Brenda and her family are on a trip out West to raft the Colorado. I was invited, but I'm too busy printing money to pay for the trip.