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November is here – if I can believe the date on the paper I just retrieved from my front door. The way things in the world, both around the planet, and around my life, are going lately, I don’t feel sure anymore about anything.
Look at the weather. My storm windows are down and the heat is up – both since the middle of October. The grass is still green and leaves are still on my trees and it’s November. Even Mother Nature is confused.
I did remember to turn my clocks back on Saturday, but still have to adjust my watch. They all run on batteries, so I’ll still know the time if not the date, or even if there’s an electricity outage, which there was on Sunday morning, as I sat in the bathtub, a mass of soap suds from shampooed head to toes. Fortunately, there’s a special chair in my tub so I was sitting down. I sat, contemplating my predicament, and any possible solution to my problem. I had shut off the water while getting sudsy and as a first try to any solution to my dilemma; I turned the hot water on. Blessed be, it ran. Apparently, and according to my daughter, I must have had a full tank of hot water. Thank goodness I had decided not to wash dishes before showering.
After de-sudsing and dressing, I really needed my breakfast hot tea. Alas and alack, the electricity was still defunct and so was my kitchen where everything is electric, including the love of my life, my electric tea kettle. Why did I wait for so many years to buy one of these marvels? If only I could find one that also ran on batteries.
No TV, of course, but that’s OK because I don’t watch the tube in the morning anyway. It was Sunday, and the only thing I would watch in the afternoon would be a golf match or a football game. Neither would be missed since Tiger Woods is off his game lately and the Patriots aren’t looking too good either.
My options for the day’s entertainment were good, nonetheless. I am finishing my NY Times book of 200 Sunday crossword puzzles and had a brand new Smithsonian to read. I don’t know if you read this marvelous publication. They have a new format, which makes the reading even more pleasurable. All this year they have published the log of Lewis and Clark’s journey, including original spelling, which is itself highly entertaining, including their several versions of the spelling of “Sackajeiwia”. Never mind how they spelled her name, their, and our, debt to this remarkable young woman with baby on her back, is enormous. Suffice it to say that she saved their lives many times over. I don’t know why she isn’t included in lists of important American women. Pocahontas has better PR and all she did, really, was save her boyfriend’s neck and ended up a grand lady in London, much acclaimed by the British.
My Sunday was further saved by a visit from Adele, Chuckie, and dog Bonnie and cat, Little Bear. Needless to say, I was delighted to see everyone, having been locked up like the Prisoner of Zenda since my hospital sojourn.
Chuckie, again, proved how indispensable to me he has become, by finding a missing piece of my scooter, for which everyone in the family had been searching for months. Not only that, but he remembered how to re-attach it.
I swear, if Lewis & Clark had had him along, working with Sackajeiwia, they would have found the “Pacific Osean” (their spelling), in half the time.
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