Das Squirrel and I have occupied a round table. He is working on his laptop. I’m blogging. Dad has used the toilet and is gonna walk around the MV campus.

I realized within the half hour how ET (extraterrestrial) and pals have communicated unto moi via numerical values such as ‘nein juan juan’.

Per Dad via numerous calendars, full moon was on July 9, 2017. That was Sunday choir mass. I cried after the Lector Minister announced: ‘and especially [name of mommy] for whom this mass is offered.’ I had contacted our local parish online (dsj.org) on Thursday and requested a Prayer Mass for Mom.

I didn’t realize that it was full moon when I cried. I told Joy (the thick alto choir member who sits to my right) that it was probably my monthly crying, which in my OLD blogs I mentioned how I’d cry on the first of five days. But because of menopause or hand paws, my one-day crying is outta whacked. She gave me a box of booger rags which I used to blow out of nasal mucous.

I just learned from Dad Squirrel that his co-workers are ‘highly intelligent’. I told him that his spirit is good and to be truthful and honest because ‘they’ have the ability to discern what’s on your heart and mind. One cannot be to ‘secure’ about our ‘national’ safety. Yup. 

So anyway besides our ‘clearances’, Dad had called that he is gonna do one more round of walking near the park. He was testing near the playground. It’s too bag he doesn’t have grandchildren in this lifetime.

The procedure is gonna be a couple of hours. The sun is shining. And I’m still deaf without my hear aides, blind without my eyeglass, and hopeful without God, err, shut up!

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