Steve and I returned home from Denver on July 20 – just in time to catch some of the footage of the Moon Walk (and I don’t mean Michael Jackson). It’s hard to believe this historic event happened 40 years ago; then again, it’s hard for me to believe I’m 52. I will never forget the palpable thrill of those days, as we raced against the Soviets in space exploration. On July 20, 1969, like every other American, I was glued to the TV set, cheering at the "small step and giant leap" speech. As soon as it was dark, I remember going outside to see if I could see a speck on the moon. I couldn’t. Walter Cronkite’s “Oh boy” said it all. (Interesting that his death came just three days before the 40th anniversary. Side note: Steve and I share our mutual birthday with Walter.)
Right now, I am expecting the first of our two rounds of houseguests. Last night our guest room toilet broke and I’m waiting for the plumber to come. Hmmmm, what are the chances that he’ll be late? While waiting, I thought it was a fine opportunity to do some cleaning, although I realize that with bachelor houseguests they may never notice. I tried to sweep the deck, but our charm school dropout neighbor yelled at me to stop because the dust bothered her. Apparently it was getting inside her closed window. So I stopped. I know better than to tangle with her. Every day, I get to listen to her screaming matches on the telephone. Maybe an anger management class might be in order. Oh, I hear a car. Plumber or nephew? I’ll bet on nephew.