Okay, the flowers are new silk flowers that Richard and I put on the graves of parents, grandparents and one great-uncle. Richard swept the graves to get the dust and leaves off while I arranged the flowers. Then we took the flowers out of whatever vase and re-arranged them. Every time. I don't know why. We just didn't like the first arrangement of anything. Oh, maybe I just used it as an excuse to stay a little longer.
Finally we've arrived at the other f-word, fish. That would be the ones Richard caught in our backyard pond. In the pouring rain, can you tell? We have catfish, perch, and bass. I say we, but I don't fish. My daughters-in-law do but I just can't. The best I do is to listen to the stories and eat, preferably fried but baked is good. Do you have a favorite fish recipe? Here in the South fish is fried. That's the end of any arguments for healthy eating. Since I rarely cook, I just eat. I'm not even sure I listen to the stories. It's entirely possible that I just put on my listening face and enjoy the food, and no one is the wiser.
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