This was the state of the sky on our walk the other day. I took the day off from walking yesterday, but I’m going to get back out there this morning before my coaching session. I like this kind of sky – deep, dark, foreboding. Interestingly, no rain occurred that day.

Today, on the other hand, we’re supposed to get big thunderstorms with gusty winds in the afternoon and early evening. And maybe a bit more rain tomorrow, then six or seven days in a row with no rain.

Don’s off to recycle. I’m going to try to get some chores done before I coach in the afternoon.

I’m still waiting for my doll to arrive. I’ve been tracking her journey from Liverpool to the States. There was a murky period there where England said it was ready to leave the country and the US said it had been notified that a package was being prepared and nothing happened for at least four days. Sort of like purgatory for international mail. But over the weekend, it was processed through JFK, then went to the Jamaica, Queens postal facility, then to Stamford, CT, then to Jersey City, NJ. Now it’s in Albany. I’m betting it gets here Friday. But – that being said – I’ve seen things leave Albany and end up in Springfield, MA for no rhyme or reason. The circuitous, sometimes baffling, journey of mail is weirdly fascinating. And often maddening.

Nothing else to report of any note. The new dollhouse is still filled with dishes of dried coffee grounds, hopefully absorbing all the musty smells. Since I’m busy with coaching, I’m not feeling impatient. I’m going to let those grounds sit there for a while.

Stay safe.

Happy Wednesday.

Sixteen years ago, we were about to move to this cottage. In fact, we moved to the cottage sixteen years ago tomorrow. Our cable had been turned off, we didn’t have smart phones, and after we moved, our cable wasn’t turned on for another five days. So we had absolutely no idea about Hurricane Katrina and its horrific impact. When we did finally get cable, we were horrified by what we saw.

I think of that today as another hurricane heads toward the Louisiana coast, one that’s strengthening as I write this. I’m praying for everyone in the path of this storm, hoping that if you’re able to, you’ve evacuated. I’ve been on the receiving end of a few hurricanes in my life, but none like this one. Please get out if you can. Stay safe. We are praying for you.

This has been a scary and heartbreaking week. Z was exposed to Covid, an attack on the airport in Kabul resulted in the deaths of innocent Afghans and American soldiers, my dear childhood friend just lost her husband to cancer yesterday, children are dying of Covid, forest fires in the West – believe me, there’s even more, but I’ll stop there.

And now this hurricane.

Don pointed out the eerie similarities between the lines of refugees trying to escape the Taliban and the lines of cars trying to escape Ida, both of which have been repeatedly displayed on our television screen. Leaving home wondering if you’ll ever get back there. And if you get back, what you’ll see.

That’s all I’ve got for today.

Stay safe.

Happy Sunday.