Woe is me!

I know, the world is beset by crises—a third ebola patient in Dallas, Isis continues its violence, the stock market really tumbled. We move from crisis to crisis, yesterday’s crisis earning not so much as a backward glance. What happened to the story of the kidnapped girls in Africa? The border crisis in Texas? The ongoing tension in Ferguson, Missouri?

While the world is reeling through these major crises, I’ve been having a few of my own. Luke continues to fit in well, and sometimes when there’s rowdy play or play-fighting indoors, Sophie is the one who starts it. Luke will be a great indoors dog. But he’s still insecure and frightened of strangers. He exhibits that fright by aggression, and Sunday night snarled and snapped at a treasured friend who went toward him with all good intentions. My own theory is that he’s found a good home, knows it, and doesn’t want anybody new disturbing it. He and Jacob still walk wide circles around each other—actually they aren’t together much.

But that presents a problem. I usually use a teen-age neighbor as a dog sitter. He’s close by, very attentive. But I was in a terrible quandary about exposing him to Luke. The boy’s mother came for happy hour yesterday, did as we suggested, ignored the dog and sat on the deck with her wine. Pretty soon, Luke came to investigate, and she petted him. All was well, and she assures me Gunnar will be able to handle it. One worry off my mind.

Second worry yesterday: an author friend wrote, apologetically, to tell me the Kindle version of The Perfect Coed was all messed up—paragraphs ended in mid-space, pages were blank, etc. I’m pleased to report that thanks to formatter extraordinaire (and really nice person) Jenn Zaczek, the correct version is up. If you bought the imperfect one, please contact Amazon and ask for a new one free.

Yesterday’s crises behind me I sailed into today. Christian was really late bringing Jacob for school. Seems he got rear-ended, which scared Jacob and made Christian splash coffee all over the inside of his car. No one was hurt, and they were in such a hurry I didn’t look at exterior damage. He needs a new car anyway but that’s a rough way to be reminded.

In efficiency mode, I pulled the slipcover off the over-stuffed chair Sophie lies in all the time. Shook it out on the porch and threw it in the washer. Then I couldn’t find the remote to the office TV. That chair is where Jacob sits and often leaves the remote. I looked everywhere and convinced myself I had thrown the remote in the washer too. Apparently not, but I still haven’t found it.

The Democratic Party is having a crisis of its own—an identity crisis. You’ll not be surprised that I get no mail from conservatives, Republican candidates or the Republican Party, but I am besieged with liberal, progressive, Democratic emails. One minute it’s gloom and despair; then I’m told the Republicans are on the ropes; then I get a message that makes it sound as if I personally will be responsible for any loss because I didn’t donate. I have donated—over and over—and this well has run dry. I’m afraid to prognosticate at this point, but I don’t open many political emails these days.

Just found the remote: Luke has a little trouble discriminating between toys and non-toys. It’s chewed but functional.

Maybe tomorrow will be a day without crises, but I doubt it. My ideas on the role of the media are a whole other blog, but I wish we could go back to Huntley and Brinkley.