What a nice surprise, an email from my friend Debby Kaspari in Oklahoma, informing me that my commentary on Naraht, the rehabilitated box turtle who lives on our preserve, had just aired on NPR. While it aired, I was up to my ears in pork ribs, mashed potatoes and apple crisp, working feverishly with Bill to whip up dinner for nine. We had arrived home from our New Year's Eve gig at 1:45 pm, following a leisurely morning and brunch at the hotel where we played. Guests were due to arrive at 2 pm. You read right. We managed to hold everyone off until 4, by which time we had dinner well underway, the music equipment unloaded, and the suitcases and extraneous stuff cleared from the foyer. Guess who was in bed and asleep by 9:30 pm last night? Everyone. And guess who's fried crispy today? You got it.
There will be more New Year's Eve news to come, but I need to borrow some photos from Bill, and that could take until tomorrow. We're both buried in all the things that didn't get done while we were doing other things. I mean, it's not like we were sitting on a tuffet with our finger in a pie.
If you'd like to listen to the turtle commentary, click here.
Baker is standing on my lap, front paws on the desk next to the mouse, staring off into space. The sun is hitting little rainbows off his hair. I am semiconscious.
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