I took my car in to be serviced.  Pat and I are driving to New Orleans next month to see a friend I haven't seen since 1963.  We are going to eat every crab, shrimp, and oyster we see.  I have reached my goal weight just in time to eat all fried things I come in contact with.  We will be gone five days, and if I gain a pound a day, I can repent when I get back home and take it off.  I can do it.

They washed my car.  Vacuumed it.  Replaced a light in the rear.  The total bill was $6.50!!  Six dollars and fifty cents.  They said the inspection was free and there was absolutely nothing wrong with the car.  Amazing.  I'll be taking my other car in soon.  They've got my business for life.

My brother Bill, (physician) has fixed me up with a neurologist, or neurosurgeon,  or some such neuro-something to decide what to do about my back.  One way or another they are going to do surgery.  I think it's a bummer.  But my choices have run out.  Surgery or pain meds--which aren't an option for me.  Once you take that route, you have to take more and more higher dosages to kill pain.    I'm not going there.  So: I'll probably grit my teeth and do surgery when I get back from the trip to New Orleans.  We have to (are forced into a corner) do some things that we don't want to do.

My yard man came yesterday--finally.  He cleaned out one of the flowerbeds that was overgrown with tree seedlings--the five foot high kind--that had been allowed to grow unrestrained.  It sure looks different.  He mulched it.  I'll see that no trees or weeds get a foothold in the future.  I'm going to have to get me one of those sit on, roll around kind of garden stools.  It would be nice if I could find a motorized one--if such a thing exists.

He was supposed to come Monday, but never made it.  He is going to cut down a tree today.  It's small, so it shouldn't take him long.

I'm working at the antique store today.  I will not, will not, will not bring anything home with me.  I can't get another doodaddie, kinda thingy in my house.  The only things that aren't going out the door of my house to Goodwill, are things that have a memory.