Yesterday I could not post. I was out of town, working with an editing client of mine. He's 88, sharp as a tack, and muses ruefully that the retirement home doesn't seem to have too many Democrats. "Or Italians," he says. "I used to know all kinds of people."
I think that's why he takes such great pleasure in his dog, Nola. She is a huge German Shepherd with gentle eyes and a protective air, and -- I found out yesterday -- not much liking for midsize American sedans, which she charges at snarling. Huh.