Sorry about that. I didn't mean to take a few days off the blog. Friday night, we got home from work and weren't feeling well. We crashed pretty hard. I slept the night away.
I got up early Saturday morning, around 6, and drove down to the Valley for the weekend. I had some chores to take care of down there. Meanwhile, Patricia remained here and spent much of the weekend cooking and baking.
I had every intention of taking my mother shopping yesterday, but she is sick. She has a crazy bad cold, as do several other clients of her nursing home. I saw her today, and she no longer has a fever, but still feels like crap. I am guessing that she will be on the mend over the next few days.
I returned to the city this afternoon. Newbie greeted me at the door and then turned his back on me, as if he didn't want me to think he had actually missed me or even noticed I was gone. Why are cats so damned aloof, anyway? Most dogs actually appreciate their humans. If I had a dog, he'd greet me at the door the way Dino greeted Fred Flintstone after a hard day at the gravel pit. Newbie is so indifferent to me when I am around, but Patricia tells me that he practically pines for me when I am away. He will jump on top of the chair and stare out the window for hours. But as soon as I drive up, he becomes nonchalant and uncaring. Sigh.
Sunday night. I have to turn in relatively soon and commence another work week in the morning. Also tomorrow morning the new Frank magazine comes out in its digital form, with my new column. I still don't know how much of the piece will see print. The issue promises to be very full, as Andrew has promised to include some of the pictures of the prophet Mohammed that caused those so-and-so's in Paris to kill the cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo last week. They also apparently commissioned additional drawings of the prophet from local artist. As well, they have promised to fry up Steve Murphy again, mostly over an interview with Michael Kydd, the SMU lecturer who had the brief consensual tryst with a student and had to resign, while the woman continues to be unnamed. Murphy apparently all but hung the poor man out to dry. I hope that Frank points out Murphy's own multiple marriages and tiffs with other women. I hate hypocrites.
Anyway, I will find out tomorrow how much of my column makes the final print. I will tell you about it, tomorrow.
Which reminds me to sign off.
See you on the morrow, my lovelies.