I’m sitting here waiting for my shuttle to the airport and looking at news coverage of Hurricane Michael approaching Florida. It’s not the best time to be heading for the east coast. I’m on my way to do a library event in Newport News, VA, on Thursday evening. Newport News is a long way north of Florida, but it’s in the projected path of the storm. My flight back is scheduled for Friday morning, about the time the remnants of Michael show up there. By then it should be little more than lots of rain, but I’m heartsick for the people who will be directly affected. Take care people. Please take care!
I’m happy and amazed to report that my shoulder seems to have improved remarkably. I’ve gone for a whole week now with zero pain other than a twinge now and then. That means I can fasten my bra without gasping in pain. I can brush my hair; brush my teeth; hold a can of hairspray; close my own car door; get dishes out of the cabinets; pour a half gallon of milk. After three months of being on the blink, it’s such a relief.
I’ll be gone for two and a half days. Bill was supposed to go with me. Obviously THAT isn’t happening. He will not be left to his own devices. He will have our property manager, Marthinus Becker, here to look after him, and the kids will be able to look in on occasion. He will also be properly supervised by our two dogs, Mary and Jojo who are relentless about requiring attention.
Speaking of dogs. I remember telling my daughter that if she fed her dogs late it wouldn’t be that big a deal because DOGS CAN’T TELL TIME. Let’s just say, when you’re wrong you’re wrong. Jojo can tell time. She loves squeaker toys, the most obnoxious of which is a very noisy lobster. At a quarter to eight and at a quarter to three, she grabs the lobster and squeaks like mad until somebody feeds her. Why am I writing this? It’s a quarter to eight, and the noise is driving me nuts.
An update on Mary. When she came to us two years ago, let’s just say she had issues. Those are mostly much improved. One that lingered longest was her reluctance to go for rides. It’s only in the last month or so when we’ve said “Do you want to go?” that she makes a break for the back door rather than having to be carried, dragged, or tricked. And we’ve now discovered a viable Dachshund loading system. We have a lovely little decorative stool that was once upstairs. Now it lives in the garage. The dogs have learned to wait until I push the stool up to the back door of the car and have time to open it. Then in they go. What I like best, however, is the two-dog race to get to the back door.
It’s not been a good few weeks for writing. I’m down to the end of The A-list and will probably finish today or tomorrow. I’ll have today on the plane and most of tomorrow on my own in a hotel. I’m calling it a variation on a theme of going to a writer’s workshop.
I regard this blog as a window on my world, and that’s my world this week: Part Nurse Nora; part Grandma; part Dog Whisperer; part Agatha Christie.