A-OOOOOO
Tuesday evening, I got a text from my sister Jen, asking if Bill and I were going to howl at the moon at 8 o’clock. Excuse me? We might sit outside and have a wee bit of Grand Marnier of an evening (as they say in Great Britain). We aren’t prone to any howling, however. Well, it seems that in some parts of the country, people are going outside at 8 o’clock in the evening and howling in a show of support for our essential workers. Well, you won’t be surprised to find out that Bill was immediately ALL IN. In fact, he began setting up the speakers and searching for some howling sounds online. His goal was to connect the two and howl UP a notch. As it turns out, he was unsuccessful in time. I will admit to giving out one small howl at the beautiful moon, but it seems our ‘hood hadn’t gotten the message. Somewhere around 8:15, we heard a howling in the distance. As I told Bill, as close as we are to desert, it was probably a REAL howl, as in coyote. Not a great shot, but proof that we were out viewing the moon…..

Thanks for the Wipe
And speaking of essential workers, my brother Dave is one of them. When the quarantine was first announced (what? a year ago?) and people were losing their minds — purchasing every square of toilet paper, every bag of pasta, every container of bleach or antiseptic wipes, every bottle of hand sanitizer, and EVERY LOAF OF BREAD — he took it upon himself to personally travel from Basha’s store to Basha’s store around the Phoenix metro area to bake fresh white sliced bread to serve their customers. Now stupid purchasing has sort of slowed down, but he still is on the front lines, working with the bakers who provide us with our rolls and bread at Basha’s every day. He texted me yesterday and told me that he had been sitting in his Basha’s van in front of one of the stores. An older man walked up to him and motioned him to roll down the window, which he did. The man thanked him for having toilet paper.  He was serious, my brother said. It’s a different world right now for sure, he added.

I say, Old Chap
You might have noticed that I mentioned above that a phrase was common in Great Britain. Since deciding to spring for Acorn TV and Britbox, I have spent a few hours every day watching every British detective from Poirot to Morse. I warned you that I was going to begin speaking with a British accent, and I’m afraid it’s beginning. Bill just shakes his head.

Mr. Bainter 
Bill, by the way, has been keeping busy by painting the patio. It was in great need of a fresh coat of paint, as the paint he applied a number of years ago had nearly vanished. I keep telling him to slow down, because once he finishes that task, there ain’t another waiting in the wings. Since we are stuck here until heaven-only-knows-when, he might want to pace himself. Otherwise he is going to have to learn to like Hercule Poirot.

Ciao.