We are in the bated-breath stage waiting for the predicted PDS storm to hit us—I think those are the initials, and they stand for something like Possible Disastrous Storm or equally awful. Apparently, it’s a designation only rarely used. But they say we could have baseball-size hail, tornadoes and heavy rain. I worried about Jacob, because they didn’t call his baseball game, and he, always nervous about tornadoes, didn’t want to go play. But he and his mom are safely home.
Earlier this evening I sat on the deck—supposedly to think about my novel-n-progress but my mind wanders. The breeze was lovely but with that pre-storm feel, and the air had that funny color, not green, just different, that it gets before a storm. I could hear distant thunder to both the east and the west. But so far nothing has materialized. I hope I don’t have to eat those words.
I met an old friend for lunch today—except we’d never met. When he came in and recognized me, I said, “We haven’t ever met, have we?” and he said no, but we’d talked on the phone when he used to interview me and review my books (pre-social media, probably late ‘80s or early ‘90s). Years went by with no contact and then he friended me on Facebook—one of the beauties of that program is the friends you make.
Randy said he’d read enough about the Old Neighborhood Grill in my books that he wanted to try it. I said if we set a date, I’d meet him, and so today we met. Lots of fun. Wide-ranging talk, but a lot about kids, grandkids, and—gulp!—how we were handling our estates. But also some book talk—he’s a prolific author—and a collector way out of my range, with original art and first editions. Funny—both of us on canes and neither one of us can hear well, but we had a good time. Thanks, Randy.
Since the weather was to storm tonight, I had my usual Tuesday night supper for lunch—meatloaf, green beans, and mashed potatoes with cream gravy. Asked for a big to-go box but surprised myself by barely saving half the meatloaf and eating everything else on my plate. Great meatloaf sandwich tonight—my favorite.
Took such a sound nap I wasn’t sure I couldn’t get up in time for Jacob but I did. Jordan came along, in a tizzy about what to do about baseball and the storm. But we unpacked boxes of books and suddenly—the last one was done. We had unpacked 46 cartons of books damaged in the storm and sorted them into destroyed, saved, and barely damaged. Now to figure out what to do with them—her goal is to empty my dining table of the stacks and stacks of saved books. Damaged beyond saving are packaged to go to a recycling place and there are boxes for women’s shelters and schools. We of course had to toast our accomplishment, but she still has an ambitious agenda—clear the guest room (which we’ve used as a junk room) so the bunk beds can come in before Megan and Ford arrive.Other than a brief period of anxiety this morning, all this activity has kept me feeling much better. Work, I’m convinced, is good for the soul.