This is as close to a 30's depression shot that I have made for a while, and that thought has no connection to the piece I just posted!

THE Question

I did it. 

I asked Lady S to marry me. I pretty well knew her answer before I asked, but it was assuring to her her Yes.

We want to get married before Thanksgiving when my whole family will be together in Portland. Then, for those who cannot make it, we will have a wedding party there for family who did not make it to Idaho.

So we began informing family. 

Daughter 4 had airplane reservations within 15 minutes of hearing of the time.

Brother Ben, who lives in Georgia, is to be here in Early November, so we soldered those together and arrived at a date of November 9.

So far, so good.

And, that is about the time that the groom can take a seat and just massage his checkbook.The girls make most of the rest of the decisions. Shar has 3 daughters and I have 4, that is a lot of women.

All of my daughters will be here (but not the rest of their families). The exception to the families is granddaughter Emily who spent a few days of every week of her first 12 years in our house. 

So, that is how it stands. I got the forms from the church (my church and soon ours) for the date. 

There does not seem to be a conflict.

I came across this recently.
When I was a kid, Crosley was a viable, if not thoroughly eccentric car company. This is the little station wagon. The cars were ultimately small and light weight.
This one is getting a transplant of a Chevy V8. Not sure if it is a good idea, but that is the plan.

I ain't certain

I had breakfast with an old friend a few days ago.
Both of us had lost wives, from the same disease, exactly a year apart.
Life is not so good now. It is not really bad, just not really good.
In fact, we both agreed, that while we will do nothing to hasten the end of our lives, we will do nothing to extend our lives either. There just does not seem to be too much to live for.
What is wrong with us? I don’t know.

For the last dozen or more years, my goal, my job and my everyday experience was to take care of my Miriam. Now she is gone and something bigger than us or her or me has gone too.
It is harder to move on than I had thought.
My widower friend seems to have come to the same conclusions. He cared for his Rose for years until she finally passed away, together in their house. I think his real reason for living has taken a leave as has mine.

What to do? I am not sure.

Where am I goin?
I don’t know
Where am I headin?
I ain’t certain
All I know
Is I am on my way.
from “Paint your wagon.”