1. Mom and I took a gander at the stuff scattered and stacked on the east side of her garage -- planting pots, garden hose, utility cart, lattice for the deck, tomato cages, buckets, random boards, a couple of bags of old, old leaves, and Mom stuck to her central principle when it comes to should it stay or should it go: unless it's broken, it stays. A bucket was broken. A couple of plant pots were broken. So were some trays that once held plant starters. An old birdhouse was falling apart. I threw that stuff away. Now, I'll try to make the stuff she's keeping look better over there. The new neighbors (ahem: Christy and Everett!) haven't complained, but I'd like to make the view out their west windows a little bit nicer.
2. Something in the garage was apparently blocking the signal from the in-house remote and the remote in Mom's Impala to the garage door, so it wouldn't open or close via either remote. I hooked up the shop-vac and used it as a dust and dirt and old leaves blower and blew the garage clean. Somehow, that fixed the problem with the remote. I felt like I had performed a miracle nearly equal to turning water into wine.
3. Christy handed me a couple of jars of homemade tomato sauce and I added onion, yellow pepper, and browned ground beef to it, boiled some spaghetti, fixed a green salad, and, abbacadabra!, Mom, Christy, Everett, and I had ourselves a spaghetti dinner on the deck.