Sorry about my little hiatus. Friends lured me upstate for my first escape since February. I underwent digital purification by keeping off the Web. (Fitch took care of orders and shipping.) It was hard at first, but I rekindled friendships among great conversation, lively dogs, brilliant cook fests, and challenging music-making. (I’m a force in percussion.) I got soaked during a long hard rain in the woods. I began to forget what words look like.
HOW MANY PINS CAN FIT IN A SINGLE FLU BLOGGER?
I returned to some jarring ones. Mystery Mailer wrote to inform me that she is not a medical student and that the latter is engaged to a doctor. The plot thins. I hope he’s not one of my readers.
Who sent that book? How does she know my name and address? I hope she explains herself soon. Shall I dub her The Stalker? She’s been too nice for that, so far.
Meanwhile, Nina emails that her bank tested everyone and found H5N1 antibodies in her blood, so she did have bird flu. Not certain I believe her.
She adds that her work is going very well and that she’s seeing someone who is less tense and more fun. I presume she means to say than I am. (I hope she means than she is.) I do hope it’s not the suit with more ego than hair.
Nina thinks she’s a forbearing soul. Hers is the kind of patience that lets her stick a knife in, then let it rest. Now and then she adds a new blade. Eventually you’re a voodoo doll with a weighty assortment of hardware. Mere pins would be a blessing.
Perhaps she suffers from Romantic Attention Deficit Disorder. I miss Ganesh.