No beach.  No exotic locales.  No amusement parks or historic landmarks.  Part one of this years vacation time away is complete and it was a lot of work--accomplished!

You might remember a post detailing my "to do" list from a couple weeks back. Let's see how I did.

I got the deck power washed.  But I goofed and let the spray wander up and catch the siding of the house.  Left with one clean "streak", I had no choice but to--

Power wash the house.  But when you power wash the house, you ALWAYS clip the shutters and remove the paint--

SO, I re-painter the shutters.

I repainted the deck with what turned out to be the most god-awful looking paint ever.  It looks like what I imagine your intestines look like.  All pinkish and fleshy.  Dreadful.

I built a new spring bulb garden, and transplanted all the bulbs from around the yard therein.  My knees may never come clean.

Saturday, we put up the pool for the summer.  Unless you're fond of swimming in Lake Superior, I suggest you wait for a while before coming over for a dip.

Inside the house, I re-framed a bedroom wall (the one I've moved, re-framed, and removed twice before), and mounted the television on the living room wall.

So, tasks accomplished.

But this success felt rather meaningless as I lost a dear, dear friend to cancer on Wednesday, May 21st.  Janet Rowse was, in many ways, more of a mother to me than my own mother.  She was as patient a woman as you'll ever find.  Especially when you consider that their home was the neighborhood hang out for all the kids in the neighborhood.  (Dick and Janet had six daughters which MIGHT have had something to do with that!)   Those were very good years with Dick and Janet and their family, and many happy memories for me.

I was able to spend some time with Janet on Tuesday.  I'm so glad I did.  I was able to make sure that she knew just how special and wonderful she was to me, and how much I loved she and Dick.  And while very sick, I think she appreciated my visit.

I know she lives in glory as I write.  That is a comfort.  Memoria aeterna, Janet.