Back to 'just us' (sigh)

I realize I do a lot of sighing throughout this post... please bear with me.

Re-entry into the normal every-day routine is hard... especially when the time-out has been so great. Bailey and I spent 5 days with a wonderful group of people and pets in a wonderful place. My son-in-law's sister had invited the family down to her place for the Memorial Day weekend, and let me join in the fun. I've never seen such well-thought-out planning for a siege (all-be-it a friendly one). Eighteen humans and 3 dogs under one roof with deck attached. The deck being the place I spent most of my time. The company was engaging and the food toothsome. Then we returned home. Home, home, home. Yes! After we took a nap, we both had the same reaction... no more Murphy and Belle to play with... no more humans to pet us and tell us how cute we are... no more stimulating conversation... no more delicious smells and tastes... no more dinners at the PIT... no more brisket in the smoker. No more bets on how long it will take for a piece of ice to melt on the deck floor. (We never found out... one of the dogs ate it.) Just us...  home again. We're getting back into our usual grooves. I actually (finally) did some laundry yesterday... it was a matter of needing to be decently dressed to go out in public. As the weather is supposed to good today, we're going to the Daily Grind this morning to spend some time with another delightful group of people. Bailey will get pats and strokes and I'll get coffee and conversation. Sigh... the usual routine isn't so lacking after all.

Didn't watch a TV or listen to radio news the whole time we were gone. Assumed the earth hadn't been blown up... I figured we'd get a clue if so. Have resumed watching sporadically... enough to know that the trials, tribulations, and silliness continue. Sigh.

 Heard yesterday that James Arness has died. With his boots on, I'm sure. During my formative years, Rev. Venoy B. Skinner, Harry S. Truman, Sgt. Joe Friday, and Matt Dillon were the examples for me of what men should be. They were, and remain, my heroes. Although I have a number of males in my life who come very, very, very close, there will never be another Matt Dillon. Sigh.