Going to Boston

I woke up early and turned on the radio in time to hear a re-broadcast of one of yesterday's call-in shows. Co-authors critical of the former Secretary of Defense were selling their ideas, tracing the intersecting histories of powerful people who hold sway over our military policies. But there is a golden retriever to be fed, so I turned it off. I'm in motion a bit earlier today since my flight leaves for Boston at 11:30 and there are things to do before heading to the airport around 9:30.

So, I fed Bass early, then counting on his system to be equally early, let him out in the back yard. I slid open the patio door and immediately smelled that stinking skunk. He/she had to be close. There is risk/reward here. I'm trying to save a few minutes so chose to let Bass do his own thing instead of walking him. How much time would this save if I end up having to find a place to get special shampoo, wash a 100-pound hairy dog, and still be ready for the airport at 9:30? One can't really say to a friend, "Hey, I've got to get to the airport. Could you go to the pet store and buy big container of anti-skunk shampoo and come back and wash my dog...who is reeking in the back yard? I'll be back tomorrow night around 9:00 pm. You can't? Hey, remember the time I lent you my tree trimmer?" Happily, Bass took care of everything without incident. There's time to browse the paper, have coffee, put a few things in my carry-on, and tidy the place.

Somehow inconveniences of a skunk attack don't seem so overwhelming this morning. One of my grown sons is having a tough personal time. My heart is full, and outside of caring and listening, this one is his to solve. He was here last night to do his metaphorical and real laundry. We talked; had dinner. When I went to bed, his stuff was still spinning in the dryer while other stuff probably spun in his head as he lay on the couch in the downstairs family room.
I was flossing my teeth when he came into my room to tell me he loved me. He was near tears.

Now to Boston.