It's here! It's here.

Finally--it seems like a long time in waiting.

My cement mixer, putzy-putzy, arrived here.

They did such a fine job of smoothing, and floating, and brooming.

They asked me if I wanted to put my name or handprint in the corner.  I decided that the cement will be here longer than me, so I declined.  Then I thought, I could find a metal Spartan head and put it in the corner, but then...what if when my kids have to sell the place, a U of M fan likes it, but wouldn't buy it because of Sparty.  So, I decided to take one of my heart stones, from my collection, and put that in the corner.  

Right over where the bumble bees had their underground nest.

Tomorrow, the guys are coming back to put the "line" across.  This helps the cement stay stable in our cold winters, when the ground underneath heaves and settles.

By the way--after they left and I walked out to go to my car, I saw three bees buzzing around that spot.  No doubt those little rascals will figure out a way to rebuild their city!!
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Had my yearly check-in at the Cardiologist's this afternoon.  Didn't even have to have an EKG.  He is a bit concerned about my continuing slow heart rate--52--I told him I was happy with that because a year ago it was in the 40's!  He had cut one of my meds--that slows the heart--in half.  I'd like to quit taking it, but if I have another AFib instance, I might have to get a Pacemaker--and I want none of that.  I remember how it creeped me out, feeling and seeing it, just under Fred's skin near his left shoulder.  My heart rate was 65 when I was at my doc's office a couple of weeks ago, so I'm not worried.  I had taken an Ativan at noon--maybe that slowed it down?

Anyway, I love this doctor.  He is the one who saved Fred's life.  Today he said, "I miss Fred."

"Me too, " I replied.

"How long has it been now.  Two years?"

"Five and a half."

"We are aging quickly, aren't we?"

"A year ago, you told me I'd live into my nineties.  I'm going for ninety-two."

"Why ninety-two.  Go for a hundred."

"Nope," I said.  "I don't want to live to be a hundred."

"Why not.  What's the difference between ninety-two and a hundred?"

"Eight long years in a nursing home!"

Anyway--I think it's sweet that he remembers Fred--as did the receptionist today.  When I checked-in, although she hadn't seen me in a year, she mentioned, "I sure miss Fred."  
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It's strange because, every now and then, one of the people at the pharmacist will mention Fred and how he always brightened their day.  Just last Sunday, Yvonne, the girl that took time off to attend Fred's funeral, said to me, "I was just thinking about Fred the other day.  He was always smiling, no matter what.  Here you are, eye all swollen and red, and your smiling.  I can see why you two got along so well."

Well, yes.  Fred and I never took anything too seriously.  Five minutes before he died, he gave me a hug, a kiss and a big smile and said, "I'll see you in a few minutes. Love you."

Yeah--we were made for each other.