We had a much more pleasant visit with Dad this afternoon. He was back to crooning tunes to Margaret of every kind. For once, he strayed into my era, doing "Something" by the Beatles, more or less. Of course, he was 40 before Beatlemania hit, so this might legitimately be thought of as second middle-age-hood. Then again, so could the song from '55 from the other day. It's all a matter of perspective; the stuff I can't remember seems a lot longer ago than the stuff I can.
In general, we seem to be coping a little better. The fabulous weather isn't hurting. I took advantage of it to walk the grounds out at Lowman Home during the first part of our visit this afternoon. The place is really lovely.
All this is good, because the cats are picking this moment to drive me straight up a tree. Amelia is acting out and Harry continues to eat as if he has a tapeworm. Also he insisted on staying out even though the temperature got down to 40 last night. I guess we know now who is really a Norwegian forest cat!
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