Pam's Dad died exactly six months ago. This is the six-month anniversary. He lay in a coma for a week, and on the 14th of December, they removed life support and he very soon was pronounced dead. So this is a day with meaning for my wife.

Pam and her sister, Jodie, spent the day together. They went to the grave, took pictures, went to Wal-Mart and Meiers and who knows where else, went to Chuck's condo (which still hasn't sold, and they are highly motivated sellers), sent in some ads to the local free classified paper, and just hung out at the house.

I gave the grill a thorough cleaning, inside and out. Then, for supper, I grilled T-bones for Pam and Jodie. Stir-fried some veggies in olive oil, too. The steaks had been marinating in Dr. Pete's Burgandy Marinade, the best marinade I've tried so far. Since I grew up in a total-abstention denomination, using a "burgandy" marinade makes me feel a little bit naughty. Please don't comfort me (as Jodie tried to do) by saying that cooking makes the alcohol evaporate. I want to feel a tad rebellious, like I'm getting away with something. (Though, obviously, God is watching.)

I only grilled T-bones for Pam and Jodie. We get them in two-packs from W&W Locker in Huntington, and I didn't want to split a second pack. I just made a hamburger for myself. Of course, that made Pam and Jodie feel guilty. And of course, I knew that would be the case.