More on a hurricane and then--comfort food

It's been a long day of hurricane waiting--waiting to hear from Colin in Kingwood, north of Houston, and waiting for the predicted tropical storms here. I talked to Colin not long ago, and they have been very fortunate with no flooding, no major damage, although there's lots of stuff down around them. They have no power, but he made coffee on the gas grill this morning so the day was okay and tonight he cooked hamburgers. But he said the house is dark and getting hot but they can't open the windows because it's so muggy. They hadn't been able to get through to Lisa's parents in Sugar Land, so I tried, got right through, and got a good report from them too, although no power and minor damage. I'm relieved for all of them, but if it really takes two weeks for power to return, as we're hearing, I've urged Colin to bring his famliy up here for a few days. He wants to see what happens in the next couple of days.
In Fort Worth, the hurricane was pretty much a no show. We'd been warned to expected tropical storms with winds of 35 mph and 2-3 inches of rain. It did get a bit windy, but nothing like predicted, and we got a long, slow gentle drizzle all day--probably not more than 1/2 inch. Tonight, at 8 o'clock, it has all moved on, way east of us. This morning though I rushed to Central Market early to get back before the rain--I could have lingered over the paper more.
A long day of waiting like this calls for indulgent food. Tonight I wrapped four sea scallops in smoked salmon strips and speared with with rosemay branches, then soaked them in olive oil flavored with lemon zest for a while, and then grilled them. Delicious, but my eyes were bigger than my stomach, and I have one scallop left. They're so big and so rich.
I worked on royalties today--depleting my supply of staples and paper clips--and hope to fiish up the last little bit tonight. Tomorrow I'll get back to the real world. Somehow this week has distracted me from the mystery, and I feel a bit burned out. Don't know why it comes in spurts of enthusiasm nor if that's a good thing or bad. I suspect he who plows on gets the book written, so I'm chastising myself.