This weekend is notable as much for what didn't happen as what did.

Daughter-in-law Lynn is having a baby, due in early November. On Friday the baby started to give signs that it was on its way early. Mike and Lynn went to the hospital on Friday evening, but returned home later in the night, the baby deciding that the time is not yet.

The other thing that didn't happen was that the Red Sox weren't swept by the Yankees. After Saturday night's football-score loss, the mood was grim. They may not always win, but they never seem to give up.

Over the weekend, Sandra called son Mike:

"Hello, this is Michael."

"Hi, Mike. This is Mom. How are things going?"

"Buppy, this is your grandson."

So, our teenaged grandson's voice now sounds like his father's.

The house still smells a bit of the New England boiled dinner that we made on Saturday. Some parts were over-cooked, some under-, but it was tasty overall. We brought a plate to my father yesterday. The remaining leftovers are on their way to becoming hash.

Sandra's mother continues to improve. She walks around the yard and occasionally up the street.

My father is getting better as well. We still stop by to help with the cleaning and firewood, but he's able to do lots of other things. Last week he took the plow off the Jeep so he could bring the Jeep into the garage and work on it.

The winter lockdown continues. We turned off the water at the camp yesterday. At home, the wood is ready for the cool weather. We have a rack outside the back door that holds a face cord (4x1.5x8) that we'll cover with a tarp and keep at the ready. We'll get some more wood for late winter and early spring.

It's very easy to from house to car to work and back again, barely feeling the outside world. Stacking and carrying wood brings me into the outside world.