My brother in law Larry has been here for about a month, helping out around the property and spending a fair amount of time at the hospital with Tom. This has taken a huge hunk out of his Southern California life, and has been a great help. But it’s not likely he’ll be thinking about relocating.
I’ve been informed we’re the equivalent of an Army desert outpost, with killer winds and high temperatures. I kept telling him it’s a DRY heat, and that makes all the difference. Only to be told it’s hotter than a popcorn fart, and hot is hot. Not to mention our lives revolve around the dogs and not around antique cars. In spite of his grumbling, the Salukis have wormed their way into his heart, if snuck cookies mean anything, and he now has pet names for his favorites. “Garbage Disposal” is a term of endearment, isn’t it?
In spite of adverse weather conditions he’s managed to help with all the changes needed to make a more welcome environment for Tom’s return. We’ve added fences and shade areas separate from the dogs, since Salukis can be a bit too enthusiastic for someone not quite healed, and I’ll finally be painting the dog room instead of leaving it “natural” – since Tom’s not here to say otherwise. Oops, should I have mentioned that? Fortunately there’s no computer in his ICU room.
Though I haven’t done much writing on books, the imagination took over one day and I came up with the Whipple procedure from the POV of the digestive tract, something I don’t think has been considered in the past, so I took a stab at it:
Yeah, I’m silly sometimes!