In Pine Tree Fields the Lilies Grow

Well, Sis and I traipsed all over the cemetery looking for our parents' grave but could not find it--that's because the stone is gone, so they can add Dad's name. We finally figured it out. We knew it was near a pine tree--we'd been there several times before over the years. So we propped up the pink lily and pink hyacinth, one on each end.

Back home, the lamb could have been better; it was a bit tough. [I put it in the oven and left it to H.'s devices while at cemetery--what do you expect of a vegetarian?] The potatoes were a little stiff; the lemon tart a tad runny. But there was Sis, bearing an Italian Easter pie and an Easter bread, and Don, and Noah, and H., and Figgy. We clinked Champagne flutes. Dad was not there and we missed him. I was going to leave black jelly beans--his favorite--at the grave but thought better of it.

Too tired to write more. Getting up at five to work on a deadline.

Peaceful wishes.

TCOY

1. Um.......let me think...must have done something in the face of foil-wrapped chocolate eggs...oh yes, quiet contemplation at Easter Mass, to feed the soul.
2. Walked a lot at cemetery and pushed my chair back from dessert-laden table to walk around block once with H., Sis, Fig and Sug.
3. Going to bed early to get good night's sleep and be energized for tomorrow.