All We Really Are Are The Memories That We've Made

Bake Sale days are dangerous.

Someone on our campus has made, every year, for the United Way bake sale, these candies she calls "Chocolate Volcanos." This is a chunk of home-made marshmallow smothered in home-made caramel smothered in smooth dark chocolate. It's actually better than See's "Scotchmallow," which is one of my favorites. They are to die for. And there were Scotcheroos and Mud Pies, too. I was very bad. Hey, it's for a good cause, right?

But my camera's batteries died, and so I missed out on getting an awesome picture of Bo, who climbed up on Barb's lap while she was in the recliner, and curled up there with his tongue lolling out. I was sad. Batteries were put in charger, and so Wednesday's picture will be something less fun.

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One of my dearest friends lost his mother today after a long illness. She was a wonderful, friendly, grand woman and deserved to live a lot longer than she did.

Every time I think of times we met, I always see her in my mind's eye smiling. She was always so sweet and darling, so amazingly cheerful, and she always had a kind word for people.

I can't imagine what her family is going through, or will go through, without her. To them I can offer nothing more than my deepest, most heartfelt condolences.