It is hotter, and I am older. A poor combination. I saw my first 100 degrees today on the Subaru’s thermostat. This has been a summer to remember. One of my hiking trails had been cleared this morning, so I took advantage of it. On the narrow trail, the Old Man was truly Woods Walking. When I returned from the thicket, the man was clearing the path. I waved and he smiled. He was hot, and so was I. It is said that people in Hell want ice water.

My side table is on its way. We old folks like a little table next to our easy chair to put stuff on. It is a big part of our happiness. I have always loved little tables. In symmetry is beauty. I stopped by my favorite Antiques Store today and purchased three small items. A little Superman statue. A Troll for Jaime. A tiny green water pitcher made from Weller Pottery. The lady checking me out said I had a diverse assortment.

Journeys throughout the fall and winter. A visit with my brother and his wife, who is like my sister, and their family. Alton to see what we can see, and a train adventure to New Orleans. Plus, some medical appointments in St. Louis, which have been woven into the fabric of MJ and my life since we retired. Pastor Kerry is retiring at the end of the year. We will miss him. He has a sweet spirit and a welcoming attitude. His sense of humor is priceless.

There are Coming Attractions. This is the first day of the rest of our lives. A comfortable manner to negotiate life is to welcome change. I am not the person I was 20 years ago or 40 years ago. Life brings the downy softness of a featherbed and the hardness of a stone pillow. It is the Stone Pillow that makes our necks hurt. When we are given the Stone Pillow for Christmas, we seek to exchange it the day after. It is too firm. The store person tells us that we can not return the Stone Pillow without a reason other than Spite. We say that it does not fit our head and neck. The store clerk gets the manager, and he kindly informs us that we can not return the Stone Pillow purely for Spite and that we already said that Spite was our reason. The manager goes on to say that many of their customers like the Stone Pillow and have given them as gifts for Christmas. ‘We know,’ we reply. Seinfeld told us so.

Our Stone Pillow takes many forms. Bitterness is a Stone Pillow. Jealousy is another Stone Pillow. Worry is the king-size Stone Pillow. It seems the Department Store Manager was right. Upon investigation, I have discovered that many people prefer the Stone Pillow. With the Stone Pillow, the wrongs they have suffered are as close as their head. When they awake in the morning with a headache, they feel justified in their suffering. After all, with all they have suffered, they should sleep poorly.

‘Stone Pillows are the ticket to a happy life,’ the Leader said. ‘We have been screwed and hurt by foreign countries and the undesirables in our country,’ the Leader continued. ‘The immigrants are taking our good fruit-picking jobs,’ the Leader continued. ‘If your neck hurts from a Stone Pillow, it is not the true Americans’ fault but people from Shit Hole Countries,’ the Leader admonished.