Yesterday morning early, Ray and I drove to my Dad's apartment. We had breakfast with him. (He burned the bacon.) We made eggs and toast, that we ate with butter and jelly. That is pretty much the quintessential breakfast that I had growing up, and that my parents continued to eat several times a week. My Mom had recently started eating fewer eggs because of high cholesterol. But the eggs they were eating now were local natural home-raised eggs. They are tasty and supposedly better for you.

My Dad had located some firewood that was in a woman's yard. He stopped by a couple times until she was home and he could find out that yes, she would be happy to have us take it away. He and Ray made a first trip with the truck, while I drove the red car back to our house. I spent a little time waiting in their apartment and did not really enjoy it. It reminded me too much of her, but also it is not a lovely and charming place to live. It's fine, if my Dad is comfortable there. But it is not beautifully decorated and maintained. He has a system for doing the dishes and he knows where things are, but he is not tidy.

At home, it was still a little cool early in the day, but horribly dry. The tomatoes are dying, and even the chard is drooping. We watered a lot. Then, I spent most of the day on the computer. I was looking into a magazine that might be interested in publishing an article I am writing about being prepared for the sudden death of a parent. And I worked on another restaurant review. It was perhaps the first time (other than being a student) that I made myself work on writing when I didn't really want to. One reason for this is to see if I could do it. Could I spend 40 hours a week writing, even if I didn't feel like it? I think the answer is yes.

Leftovers for lunch. My Dad came back for a brief visit in the afternoon. He had been to the doctor, a little worried because of fatigue and shortness of breath, and was reassured.

We had a good healthy supper, followed by TV and sherbet. I started falling asleep before 8, but kept waking myself up, and finally read for a long while after I went to bed.