They're gone

We knew it would happen one day - and it has. Except for our emergency backup son Obie-the-red-dog, the nest is empty. And it isn't so bad. Sharon's view is that dropping Alex off in Baltimore (maybe ten blocks from his Aunt Jennifer's house) was way easier than dropping Chris off in midtown Atlanta a couple of years ago.

There are good things and bad, and I do miss them. Especially on Friday mornings when the trash needs to go to the end of the driveway. Or when the dishwasher needs to be emptied. But the house remains tidy for days on end. And a smallish container of chocolate chip cookies has lasted a good long time. There are still some adjustments to be made, such as deciding on full or half gallons of milk - but we'll work through them as they come.

Sharon has decided to go back to school for a certificate in computer graphics - taking three "real" classes plus a "continuing education" class. So, she is not only VERY excited, but very busy - which is a good thing.

And me... any time that I'm not "Voxcom-ing" can be spent yanking dead trees out of the woods or puttering in the garage. I've set some goals along these lines that include heavy use of Craigslist for lightening the load.

Several weeks ago, our friends Jeff & Tammy offered this sage advice on the subject. "The best part... clothing optional. Enjoy it". So, when you visit Gracerock, be sure to toot the horn at the end of the driveway. Just better for everyone involved.

The Silver Lining

Our house is constructed into the side of a hill in such a way that, without steps, you can walk out of the basement in the front and out of the kitchen in the back. During a rainstorm earlier in the year, we noticed a lot of water coming into the basement in a hard-to-access area. So, I did what any normal person would do - mounted the backhoe to the tractor and dug a trench beside the house that extended lower than the foundation. The water problem immediately went away.

So now, two months later, I've fixed the various holes in the concrete block, applied a coat of black tar-like goo as a sealant,put drainage pipe and gravel into the bottom of the trench and started closing up the trench. But I had to dig a bit more trench in order to extend the pipe out to a good "stopping point". Trusty backhoe and I set out to dig this 20' section. But we hit something hard. Very hard. A bit more work and found that we hit something square. And flat on top. But here's the "Silver Lining" part. Not only did we finally discover the long lost septic tank (that isn't even close to where the previous owner's diagram shows), but we found BOTH the cleanout and inspection hatches with the backhoe WITHOUT buggering up either one. If we hadn't had the water leak, I'd likely have never found the tank.

It's funny how, as one ages, one gets excited about strange things.

Nice Rack!

Well, what did you THINK I was talking about? This is probably one of the nicest guys I've photographed. Still looking for the bear....

You just never know

I know that most of my posts have been a bit melancholy recently. There's lots of great stuff in my life, but it just doesn't linger like this story. So indulge me.

They got up on Sunday morning, just like any Sunday. She probably put a load of laundry in the wash, they had breakfast and read the paper. Around 9:50 they got in the car and headed into town for 10:15 mass.

Like all good Catholics, they sat in the same (or nearly the same) pew - right hand side two-thirds of the way back. The one next to the air conditioning vent. They wanted to arrive early enough so that any "interlopers" wouldn't beat them to "their pew".

Mass was typical for a "Sunday in Ordinary Time" - Joey played the hymns on the organ and led the singing. And Father O'Malley's homily message was "Be vigilant". How poignant that message became just a minutes hours later.

Since our choir is on summer recess, we had gone to 8:00 mass, and didn't know anything was amiss until Betsey sent an email in the early afternoon, letting us know that there had been a terrible accident in front of church and that at least one person had died. Soon thereafter the Frederick News Post had the story that two people had died and one was severely injured. No names were listed. Early version of the story indicated that an SUV was involved.

Like so many of my fellow humans are apt to do, I immediately jumped to the conclusion that some ying-yang in a street-legal tank had roared up past church in the 25 MPH zone and plowed down a little old lady crossing the street. In my mind, I wanted a villain.

One of the charms of small-town life is that everyone knows everyone. Of course, this extends to the church community. And, pertinent to this story, you know where folks sit in church and often know where they park. So, the mind starts roll call - who parks over at the American Legion or walks to church from main street, or walks to the Palms restaurant after church. Which one of our friends is it?

All afternoon we're checking the fnp website for updates. And I wonder - terrible as it seems - is it better if it's someone that we don't know? And what will become of the driver?

Finally, at 7:30 or so, fnp updates with names. And the two dead are, in fact, folks that we know - John and Pat Cillo. They live... lived.... less than a half mile up the road. Just the other week, John had seen me walking up the hill and correctly assumed that I was headed for Tim's Garage. He stopped and gave me a lift. He was a brash New Yorker - and proud of it. But he was also a nice guy, well liked in the community.

And of the villain SUV driver? Well, it turns out that she was an "AARP" aged woman who apparently hit the gas instead of the brake while parallel parking. She was coming to church early because she's a greeter for the noon mass - not your typical Cruella DeVille type. However, in less time than it takes to read this sentence, two lives are extinguished and several others will be irrevocably changed.

So, when you get up on a Sunday morning and throw laundry in the wash, remember that you just never know. Be vigilant.