What I did on my summer vacation and a funeral

This past week should have been my summer break, but work junk conspired to make it not exactly relaxing, and not exactly a break.  Maxwell and I did sneak off to the Lobster roll cart, at Cartlandia, though.  It was pretty good.  Maxwell said it was the best sandwich he had ever had.  I would prefer something hot, I think, but it was dandy, and lobstery and delicious. 

Mark and Maxwell went to Edgefield to see Jack White.  They are very fond of him, I could not name a single song.  I am old and very out of touch with modern music. 

Rolf presented me with this large volume of elderberries, much like a cat, dropping a dead mouse at my feet.                         Oh goody! I needed one more thing to take care of!                                                                                                                          I cooked them down and pressed them out and made syrup.

Freyja attended a sewing camp earlier this summer and made a skirt that would put anything I could make to shame.  She is crafty like that.

On Thursday, Aunt Karen walked in the backdoor.  He Godmother had died earlier in the week and she was in town for the funeral.  It was a sad and hard time for her, and coming to stay with us was what she thought of, to feel better,  which made me terribly happy, as the week had not been going so shithot for me either and misery loves company, especially if it's your best friend.   So we made a very fine goulash and a vast quantity of mashed potatoes.  We binge-watched the Danish murder police show, "The Killing" on Netflix, and drank too much wine, and laughed our heads off, and sealed the deck and looked at photos.