Information, how can I help you?

Back when we had a phone, I would call information in Columbus, Ohio, just to hear a voice that sounded like home. I'd ask for the number of the most common name I could conjure, yearning for the predictable clarification questions that would draw out my query into a conversation. I wanted to do this with the research librarian, but the information line is free. 

All you need to know is the area code for the city - Columbus is 614; the information number is 1-800- area code-555-1212. I learned this by watching TV back when we had a television, before my mother put it on the porch, a cold and sharp veto that ended the argument over what channel to watch as quickly as a slap in the face. " You're too selfish for words," my mother hurled at me as she came back in from the porch, never breaking stride on her way to the kitchen. I hadn't opened my mouth since sitting down on the couch after school, and wasn't part of the argument that had irritated her, but I didn't correct her.

My Latin book almost slid off my lap and I grabbed for it, catching it before it could make a sound, the thick textbook spine crashing into her attention and possibly making her reverse her course. I stifled a cheer when she commanded my dad to give the television away or to take it to the dump, she didn't care which, as long as it was out of her sight in the morning.

Preparing for the Hurricane

What, isn't this what everyone does to prepare for a hurricane?

Also, the new phone is here. Hopefully calls will no longer be dropped.

Tonight, and the weather, and my heart

I visited Vivian tonight, and she was dear and tender and delightful and disappointed that I won't be allowed to see her for another two weeks despite her requests, repeated tonight.
I'm always heartened and dashed in equal measure after the visits.
So.
A bath tonight.
And walking tomorrow morning at dawn.

And there is beautiful music in my life as I settle in to work on the third and final critique for delivery tomorrow (draft will be set aside to percolate before a final form for delivery tomorrow to the writing group). The library discussion forum posts are in for the week as well, and my questions about the local law library have been sent. It's all nearly squared away for the week.

The weather continues to leave me limp.
There is the promise of storms and a return to autumnal clime.
My phone has decided that I shouldn't be bothered and ceased connecting calls, which is as delightful as it is irritating, and perhaps moreso. The replacement phone shipped today.

The cover of The New Yorker this week features a lovely summer landscape with a gorgeous couple on a lawn while others lounge about in the distance, basking in the sun, she stretching under a floppy straw-brimmed hat, he relaxing in the shade in a suit with a lime popsicle (or possibly pear; it's hard to discern flavor from color).  The veritable image of late summer cool in the face of withering humidity and lingering lazy heat that refuses to acknowledge the turn of the calendar, the ringing of the school bell, the shift in the nightlife. "Leave the chairs on the patio," it seems to demand, "and buy another dozen Italian ice. We aren't going anywhere yet."

I want to frame this one.