The Pink Flamingo is finally home after 14 days on the road. I am miserably tired and have been the recipient of my sister’s nasty head-cold.
The Pink Flamingo kitties were glad to see me. They were even glad to see Rumsfeld who has been vacationing in Las Cruces for the past week. He had a great time with the family, and was his usual naughty self.
We had a hotel suite while my father was doing the medical thing. My sister and I were required to share a room for three nights. (No, we did not fight). One night, Rums had done something he shouldn’t have done, which is nothing new. I tracked him to his grandparent’s room. Before I could catch the little stinker he jumped into bed with them, and snuggled down between them, up against my father. I went to get him to chastise him and he looked at me, snuggled closer, and growled at me! He has become quite adapt at playing me against them.
The Durango, after a 14 day vacation, will not start. The battery is fine, but the moment I take my foot off the gas pedal it dies. That is not good.
For those who have asked, my father is doing good. Eighty-six is not a great age for surgery, but he’s doing fine, just cantankerous. He and my mother need a time out from one another, I do believe. She is the exhausted one.
I have a hard deadline of May 1 for the blasted book to be ready for its first round of proofing. My publisher wants it by July 1. If the blog gets the short shift the next few weeks, the book comes first.
There may or may not be another post for Tuesday morning.