SweetClover of Trill

Wretched night of so-called sleep last night. Ugh. The less said the better. I'm so tired. It never rains but it pours, however, especially with visitors. The Sparrowhawk's brother, Fritz, sometimes has a spare day, and likes to drive over to this side of the state and go exploring. He stopped in for a visit this morning. I thawed out the last of the Chicago sausage assortment and cooked it, with some sauerkraut and parsley potatoes in the German manner--although technically it's the eve of St. Patrick's Day--and gave him lunch. He and the Sparrowhawk shared some Guinness before the Sparrowhawk tried to unravel the labyrinth of post-returement medical care for him. He's not retired yet, being a good deal younger than the Sparrowhawk, but he will be soon.

It was a brooding, windy day as the cold front came in. When we came out of church, there was a spatter of cold rain coming down. We had sandwiches made of leftovers for dinner--a good choice given that it was after six when we returned. I can't imagine why some people look down their noses at leftovers. A refrigerator full of leftovers is like a bank account with lots of money in it, in my opinion.