I was startled to discover a document was available to me this morning, though I have forgotten all the incidents I wanted to record, since swiftly moving time has carried me away from them.
The principle for describing incidents I learned from Emily Dickinson: tell the truth, but tell it slant. Slant is so much more interesting, usually. (It just occurred to me that I have no idea how to save this document. I shall not write much more since all the words may disappear.)
If my one gentle reader is still with me, she ought to know that my son, Michael, is responsible for upgrading and improving the website. He is BlogMaster Startzman, and I am grateful that we are back up and running (er, walking? Stumbling slowly forward till Death does me depart, as the old marriage vows used to say).
Well, well. I closed the document by hitting "done," whereupon I was given several choices, one of which was to save the draft, which I did. I saw that there was a choice to "publish," as well. I like that! Publish!
But I haven't mentioned the family yet. Little Schuster, for example, the most annoying, wonderful, terminally cute little creature that ever was. When he is Snoopy-like perched on the top of the love seat (see picture), I can walk up to him, pet him, give him a belly rub, scratch his ears, etc.; however, when he is on the floor, he will not let me pick him up, or let anyone. That is frustrating.
I have taught him to do nose bumps though. When I go downstairs to retrieve papers or Ocean Spray cran-grape juice, which we drink a lot of, he will put his head through the railing and touch my nose with his nose when I say, "nose bump." That is so cute, though I seem to be the only person who appreciates it; but after all, he doesn't have a fist! Nose bump!
Okay, going to see if choices return, and if publish means publish. Given that I am talking about Schuster of Simon and Schuster, publish seems appropriate here.