In which I speculate that the reason Sly invested in Jack's restaurant was that he felt guilty about abandoning him and Ted when they were little boys

"I've never thought of that!" Primo said.

"Seems perfectly clear to me," I said.

"But - he said that he wanted to get custody."

"Fathers did not get custody in the early '60s. Your dad finally - and I find this hard to believe, given the way he talks about your brothers and about his ex wife, who was a drunk harridan so of course he had to divorce her - felt guilty. I didn't think he had a conscience."

"I think you are right - I think he felt guilty."

In which I tell Primo he should have saved Sly and Doris' equipment so we could explore the options

In which we have a very sad cat who is sad because I will not let her open the box and eat of the peaches

I am a meanie who is not letting her eat peaches because

1. The peaches remaining in the case are for my friend Lois - we buy a case and split it
2. I get peaches three times a year. These are trucked overnight in refrigerated trailers from Georgia. They taste the way peaches should taste. I love my cat with her acquired symmetric feline alopecia (see her poor naked belly? she used to be the Plush Kitty, but middle age is hard on all of us), but I am not going to share the Good Peaches with her.

In which I find a political ad that I could have written about Primo

Holy smoke does Charlyn have my sympathies. "Gerald doesn't really have any hobbies."

In which the one-year anniversary of Sly's death passes and Primo and I don't even think about it until our niece posts something on facebook

Primo: Oh! It's the anniversary of my dad's death.

Me (doing the math in my head): Oh yeah.

Primo: Ted posted something on facebook about it.

Me: What on earth did he post?

[I don't see anything Ted posts because I have him blocked. I do not want to be friends with Ted, either in real life or online.]

Primo: Some dumb sentimental thing.

Me: Ah, right. Ted didn't actually live with your dad.

Primo: And my niece sent me a message.

Me: That was nice! She is such a great kid.

Primo: Am I supposed to call people?

Me: About what?

Primo: About my dad's death.

Me: What?

Primo: Am I supposed to call people today to talk about my dad?

Me: No! No! Not if you don't want to. And even if you did, it would flow the other direction - you are the most grieved person, in theory, so other people should call you. You do not call them. You don't have to. But your nieces's text was really nice.