News

Good news: I could smell roses at the bottom of the stairs leading up to my office. I lost my head this spring and bought tree roses. So impractical, but one of the impracticals was Mr. Lincoln. It’s a red hybrid tea, with huge scarlet blossoms, and a sweet, rich perfume. It was supposed to rain today, so I cut some roses to save them from the beating. Three of Mr. Lincoln were enough to fill the room and the stairway with sweetness. The flowers, themselves, are as wide as my out spread hand. We’ve fought black spot on the bush all year, and it’s going to be a challenge to protect this winter, but when it can make you smile on a day when nothing much else does, it’s worth the trouble. It’s not how much work a thing is, but if the work is worth it. A personal choice, that, but I tend to attract high maintenance things, both people and other living things. In the end, you hold that huge, gaudy blossom, breath in that perfume, and you know that it was all worth it.

Bad news: I twisted my bad ankle on the stairs yesterday. Not too badly. I just tried to run up the stairs, and apparently, I still can’t. This morning walking Pippin, he reacted badly to the neighbor’s dog and in trying to keep it from escalating, the ankle got twisted again. The doctor told me that I could try physical therapy and weights, but if that didn’t do it, then it was surgery. I had yoga schedule this afternoon, but by then the pain in my ankle was beating in time to my pulse. I put ice on the ankle, elevated it, and let yoga go on without me. What is it with all the leg injuries at our house?

Good news: Jon is out of the wheelchair and onto crutches. Yea! The swelling is almost gone on his knee, and he was able to shower this morning. Though, I may have to shave his face for him, or he’s going to have to regrow that full beard. I’ll let him teach me how to save his face. Didn’t like the full beard.

Bad news: Get to pick up Phouka’s ashes from the vet’s today. I think that’s selfexplanatory.

Simply news: I’ll be looking over the lettering for the second issue of the Anita Blake: Laughing Corpse comic when I get done typing this. Lettering means it’s almost done.

Frustrating news: The newest Anita book, SKIN TRADE is still stalled. I can’t tell if it’s really lost it’s way, or if it’s my mood. When you’re trapped in a mood it’s hard to tell.

A question: Does instant coffee go bad, or is it like nuclear bomb safe food and will be ready to drink when only the cockroaches are left?