Bites from the Cahndy

It's Sunday afternoon and I am sitting at my niece Annette's computer. I didn't realize how much I nibble at the Internet every day until I was deprived for almost two weeks. I had a few brief bites here and there at libraries and such but otherwise it was complete deprivation from the world of email and blogs. So thanks to Annette for this opportunity to update, a rich bowl of ice cream and peaches in a desert wasteland.

Brief updates:
It was really hot.
We processed 350 ears of corn in the heat at my sis Margaret's house.
Otherwise we just "chilled" at Chad and Margaret's, a wonderful break.
Paul and Matt and Jenny arrived later than expected due to thunderstorms in Baltimore.
Jenny was a brave little trooper, I was told, even when waiting for a rental car at 2 a.m.
The night of Byran's wedding it cooled off.
Which is no portent of his marriage I'm sure.
Amy and Emily and I saw "In the Beginning" at Sight and Sound, a much-recommended Lancaster County drama venue.
It was as amazing as I had been told.
I have seen lots of people I know or once knew.
The many book signings have ranged from sad to good.
Paul and I had dinner at a "medium-sized" Lancaster buffet that makes Izzy's or HomeTown Buffet look like a little diner in Harrisburg.
We were treated to dinner by three people from Good Books, including Kate, who I have talked to on the phone numerous times and finally met.
The Good Books people are good people.
And I always knew I was fortunate to be published by them but then I found out that they get up to 2000 manuscripts a year and publish about 30 of them.
And very seldom do they re-publish a self-published book.
Being in Lancaster County (aka "Lankster" or "The Cahndy") makes me actually grateful for those stringent Oregon laws preventing good farmland from turning into housing developments.
I'm serious, it is awful.
And the traffic. Oh my.
And the tourism. More tourists here than in any national park.
I would go nuts, and my kids are vowing never to marry a Lankster Cahndian, which their Minnesota-born cousin Annette says is a dangerous thing to say.
Ben and Steven are doing fine at home.
Tomorrow Amy and I drive to South Carolina while the others fly home.
I am trying not to think about this.
Is it better to put off thinking about it, and then run headlong into the inevitable sorrow, or to mull about it and do my weeping now?
Ok, time to give my fork a final lick and put the dessert dish in the sink. Thanks Annette for this treat.

Quotes of the Day:
"You just have to forget about figuring out which way is north."
--Annette, on finding my way around this area

"We forgot to water them for three or four days but I think they're still alive."
--Ben, on the potted petunias