4:30 a.m. There just ain't a lot of reason for Missy Janis to be up at that hour: no cows to milk, no children to tend, no hours to drive, no exams for which to cram. But it was a good hour to listen to the passing of the mild storm that settled over the area last night. I like rain, even if this one will delay yet another week the filling of the "Great Money Pit" aka swimming pool and hasten the coverage of our white-painted woodwork with gray mildew. Don't tell me about the humidity in your area until you have to pressure wash at least once a year. (Looks like it will be twice for us this year.)

Son Michael is grieving a little over the pool. He understands our reasons and approves, but we're literally burying part of his childhood. He, his brother and their friends were in the pool everyday during the season until everyone was up and away. For Lyman, it served the practical function of keeping his children at home and observable during their teenage years. Their friends' parents knew where to find them, too. Before he left Friday, Michael said, "Last night I dreamed about ghosts out there."

I have regrets, too. I regret the $10,000 or so we've funneled into the thing the past ten years. That might have been a nice fishing boat that would have finally shut his Daddy up.