Good to have that weekend behind me. Emotional shit, that.

An aside about Dad’s favorite meal: Mom HATED sauerkraut. Hated it so much that she fed it to him damned near every day for a year. Sauerkraut, mashed potatos (dad liked ’em a bit lumpy) milk gravy. He’d make a big pile of taters on his plate, smoosh a big crater in them with his spoon, slap in a big dab of kraut in the crater, douse the whole deal with milk gravy. Stir it up. (When I was a kid, I loved it too, I called it ‘stir it up’. Hell, I thought that’s what Bob Marley was singing about) Anyway, Dad was in heaven. He thought he’d married his blue fairy godmother. Mom grew more and more disgusted at the whole ordeal until she finally said “Marion, don’t you ever get tired of eating that crap?” The answer, apparently, was no. Mom went back to cooking other things, but dad still ate until the containers were empty whenever Mom made his favorite dish.
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