I’m embarrassed to say that I couldn’t get access to my blog for two days because I forgot my login name. Not just the password but also the login. How lame is that? My browser was having some cookies and got the hiccups and then my wordpress site reverted to the address that was used when this place was set up. And yeesh, that was months ago and my friend Elizabeth was the one who set it up so I wasn’t paying attention at that point.
The real problem is, I’m not a mathematician, but even I have figured out that three login names and three pet names equals 8,714 different combinations and I can’t be expected to remember all of those for every single airline, utility company, bank account, eBay, mail, online shopping and so on. And although I remembered every single name, spouse’s name, children’s names and life history of every person who ever came through my office for some inexplicable reason memory is not my current strong suit. (No, they weren’t in my office for some inexplicable reason. Most of them had a good excuse. That clause is supposed to be attached to my memory. I need a comma somewhere but it’s such a run-on sentence, it’s hard to know where, exactly. If only I could write better than I think.)
I am doing a great job of exercising the cat. McCloud, in turn, says this fitness business is not his strong suit and he is doing his very best to hide- in that way that simple cats think they are hiding- when he senses I am about to cart him out for his walk down the block.
On the other hand, loving companion IS his strong suit and he has been getting ready for company. Me, too. My very good friend from book club, the one who was widowed right after we were at the lake cottage for BCMA in late November, is coming down for a few days of well deserved R and R. She’s been doing the dismal tasks of sorting out insurance policies and pensions and the other day when I called she was tearing apart and repotting the plants that came to the funeral home. And crying. I don’t blame her. Those odd baskets that have both fresh flowers mixed with house plants are dismal. What are you supposed to do after the fresh flowers die? Throw out the plants? That’s depressing. On the other hand, they can’t stay all crammed into the flimsy plastic lined basket with the yellow ribbon. I know. That isn’t what she was crying about.
Anyway, Judy and her lovely lovely daughter Amy (my favorite special ed teacher in the whole world) are arriving late tonight and we all want to sit around and cry together. Then we’ll laugh and knit and eat shrimp and drink a little wine and take a beach walk at Ft. DeSoto. Amy has never been to Florida. Can you believe that? She’s been to Australia but not Florida. So this will be a really good weekend and we’ve all been looking forward to it.
McCloud knew as soon as I started changing sheets and putting fresh flowers in the guest room that someone is coming. He’s been camped out there for two days straight even though he never goes in there unless we are having guests. He will keep Judy good company in the wee hours.