Another day, another "Juju" trip

Today, we went to Old Town Spring--Spring being a town slightly north and west of Kingwood where the kids live. It's one of those rejuvenated old areas turned into a tourist attraction--lots of kitsch, boutiques, sweet shoppes, small cafes, and the like. It reminds one of Kemah, or Manitou Springs in Colorado, Old Town in Albuquerque, or even, with a different flavor, Fort Worth's Stockyards area. We ate a delicious lunch in Ellen's Cafe (where the specialty is home-made ice cream), the kids found a two-story ramp that they ran up and down, and we shopped a bit. Visited an amazing doll hospital, the Spring Historical Museum where they really have some interesting artifacts--a small, apparently volunteer project, it's quality for its size. And then we visited the public restroom several times. In spite of a drizzle, the area was full of tourists. We ended our outing back at Ellen's eating ice cream cones on the porch. On the way home the drizzle turned to a violent downpour, the kind you hate to drive in, though Colin did admirably.
Jordan and Jacob arrive tomorrow, so its dawned on me that my vacation is drawing to a close. In recognition, I took an extra long nap. But I'd felt that today anyway. For a week now, I've been "Juju," a grandmother, and today, the first thoughts of the office crept it. I began a list of things to be done when I get home. I thought of something I should write tonight. The week away has done me good, but I guess I'm no good at staying away too long.
I'm barely into the P. D. James novel, The Private Patient, but already I'm intrigued by technique. She opens the novel focusing on the intended murder victim, so for the first 60 pages or so, the reader sees things through her eyes. She's not a particularly likeable or warm woman--scarred by the scar she carries on her cheek, a woman who keeps herself remote from others. Perhpas that's so that we don't abandon the book when she's murdered. But I still think it's a bit unusual to spend so much time developing the characters of the intended victim--a technique perhaps that would only work in the hands of a masterful writer like James.
Excuse me, I've got to go. The children are "helping" put up new shelves in the playroom and the opening of the Olympics, the TV "Event of the Year," is being replayed.