Ditto. We are planning (unnngh) “primitive” camping this weekend. I have to tough it out to set a good example for the youth ...
Maybe one of these days you can say, “Oh, no. I’m too old for this primitive stuff!”
I have no idea when the peeps are going to show up. I printed off some fun pictures that my brother sent by email yesterday. (It will be strange to just refer to him as “my brother.”) Then someone in AZ sent me some texts on what the birth names were, and the current names of the surviving siblings, and I’m sorry if I stepped on any toes, but the brother that passed was never adopted by my dad.
What a mess. Am I going to make it through this?
I sent a text to my niece about an hour ago, asking if they had left, yet. “Soon,” was the answer. It’s a six hour drive to here and another five hours to AZ. My body is going to hate me by the time I find a good floor to sleep on.
I will spend at least one night with my brother’s kids, and maybe the rest of them with my brother’s widow. I just talked to her, and she sounds like she’s pretty doped up. Poor old thing.