It's 7:45 in Minnesota, and I've already baked corn bread, mixed up an extra batch of coleslaw dressing because I made such a vast amount of slaw that it was dry last night, and assembled an egg salad kit for my mother--one container of eggs, s&p, and pickle relish, and another of sauce, so she can get it just the way she wants it. Last night I tried frying walleye, but fried fish, like steak, is something that's better gotten in the outside world. You have to have the good grease, at the right temperature, and know exactly how long to fry it so it's still moist inside. Mine was okay, but probably the oil wasn't hot enough.

Mom'll be in the rehab facility for a while longer. She looks and sounds really good when you talk to her, but she still has no stamina. My sister-in-law Harriet told me to tell her, "Stay there until the kick you out." She gets therapy three times a day and all the oxygen she can inhale.

Speaking of food, a while back, I had pickled okra in a restaurant and it was really good. This is coming from a gal who doesn't hold okra in much regard, mind you. But it wasn't until I came here, of all places, that I found pickled okra in the grocery store. In Minnesota? There shouldn't be any okra north of Missouri.

Finally, does anyone have a system for keeping track of the buttons you get in a little baggie with more expensive clothes than the kind I usually buy? I used to throw them into this thing on my dresser, but buttons seem to rarely fall off, and I can't remember ever looking for a particular button and finding it. I'm thinking maybe some kind of war-room type wall-sized bulletin board with pictures of each article of clothing and the spare button push-pinned to it. Does anyone have anything like that?

Happy anniversary of the best thing that ever happened on this continent!