damage control …

Um, okay so this … is not me.  And it’s not my sister-in-law (“Theresa DiFalco”) either.  What’s with all the Teresa DiFalcos?  I am not her.  I’m me.  And, also, I was never “furious.”

Remember those two things, they haunt me. Even though she is probably perfectly nice, and someone maybe ought to have been furious, still, neither thing captures me at all.

Well, whatever, I’m tired.  I made peach salsa from the peaches my mother picked off her tree.  I served the peach salsa tonight with scallops.  The scallops were so-so.  I’m on a salsa kick, I made some regular tomato salsa yesterday.  A big giant bowl of it.  I have tomatoes, that’s why, I have about a million.  And also, I like salsa.  So in those particular conditions, what the heck would you do.  Huh? 

I’m terribly bored and I’m trying to write and I’m not managing either thing well, you can see that I’m sure.  I should take Scruffy for a walk, will you come with me?

Speaking of Scruffy.  A friend of mine should be Scruffy’s doctor, but he isn’t.  I didn’t know him when I got Scruffy, and well, Scruffy’s delicate, very sensitive to change.  But besides that, this potential Scruffy doctor — let’s call him ”Vet” for simplicity – did the most amazing thing Saturday night.  He went to dinner with me and A.  That’s not the amazing part, though.  Nor are the cigars and martinis and wine and pasta and swervy back roads.  No.  The amazing part is that we kept Very Tall Vet up until late in the morning, after 2.  And on his way home, long after A. and I were both soundly passed out, he stopped at his office to treat a diabetic dog.

Seriously. 

I don’t know.  I think he’s a hero, an unsung one.  Next time he comes over I will sing.  That’s all I’m saying.  Well that and my job totally sucks this week.  I’m in the lurch.  Loo-de-doo.