Thanks From the Bottom of McGee's Rotten Little Heart

McGee is curled up beside Frank, who is sorting out bills to pay, and me, who is paying them.  He has slept all day long, without concern for anything except his various bones (lunch and 3 o'clock) and dinner (promptly at 5).  He  is exceedingly grateful for all the thoughts that held him bound to this earthly plane.

As am I.

I  spent the day in his company, dealing with a migraine probably brought on by the stress of the past few days.  It has been stressful.  I felt better by the time Frank got home and managed to whip  up some French Bread Pizzas from the last of the spaghetti sauce from the bribery dinner I made to Andrew to work on my computer over the weekend. 


I took a loaf of French Bread, painted it with a nice olive oil and broiled it crispy.  Then came the mozzarella, back under the broiler.  Then the warmed up sauce and some pepperoni and Italian Sausage, topped with more cheese.  Delish, and pretty simple.

After I washed the dishes I told him he needed to make dessert.  He promptly took me to  Dairy Queen where we sat and ate Peanut Buster Parfaits and watched the sun set.