Blogging My Life

 As anyone reading this knows by now, I moved back to Indiana to spend time with my parents. My mother and father are both still alive but in their seventies and eighties and, so, not going to be around forever. As I was making the decision to move here I thought most about it being nice to be with family, but I didn't give much consideration to the fact that I had absolutely no friends here. All the friends I had growing up here are dead.  Its not like I had more friends than I knew what to do with in Seattle because I didn't. I'm not that kind of person. I don't have lots of friends. If anything I have many acquaintances and a (very) few good friends. I don't call someone "friend" lightly, like many people do, the majority of the people I spent time with were acquaintances. Acquaintances, to me, are the people you know from work, or the club you're a member of. You might spend eight hours a day or more working with them, getting to know a bit about t...

 Tonight has been the very definition of "a dark and stormy night," exactly the kind of night the author means when the first line of the chapter is, "It was a dark and stormy night," and supernatural things are about to happen. I've been watching it from the comfort of my deck above the canal for a few hours, nursing one, then another scotch on the rocks, the cold liquid warming me. The rain coming down hard at times is loud as it hits the canal, water on water. And then, in an instant, every leaf on the tree off my deck, every ripple in the water of the canal, and every other little thing to be seen is perfectly illuminated with a cold white flash of light. Seconds later the clap of thunder; it would be loud by itself but now it echoes through the man made canyons of cement and steel and glass that make up the city. My old cat, Danger, does not like any of this, not one bit, and he hides inside the apartment under the seldom used dining table when the lightnin...