Fragmented Friday

It seems like a long time since I've done a Friday Haiku. I have to get back to that one of these days. Not now, though. There's too much on my mind, it seems.

This is July 4th weekend. It is my sincerest hope that everyone really, really, enjoys themselves. Safely. I want all fingers, toes, boobs, butts and eyes in place and accounted for, unbroken, unscarred and undamaged, come Tuesday morning.

Resetting the house in preparation for Grannie's return continues apace. It isn't any easier, yet. But it will get there.

She's slowly rounding into shape. Whatever it was in her, that laid her low, seems to be breaking up a bit and she's breathing better every day. She called me yesterday morning at 6:30am - in the freaking morning - to tell me that they ought to be able to vacuum the oil up in the Gulf. She seems to think that if archaeologists can vacuum sand up off the bottom, they ought to be able to use the same process to clean the surface. Maybe she's right.

She acknowledges and thanks everyone for the well wishes that have been coming her way. So do I.

Ndinombethe.