Ring of Fire
Yesterday morning I was sitting in my chair reading. Suddenly I heard a loud boom in the area across the open space that runs behind our AZ house. Startled, I looked up and saw black smoke rising into the area from that same area. I got up and ran to the door, and yelled to Bill, “There’s a fire!” He jumped up and we both ran out to our backyard to look over the fence. We could see flames blazing high into the air, with the smoke billowing into the sky. There were loud intermittent booms coming from the area. I ran back inside the house and grabbed my telephone. I was reluctant to call, assuming someone else would do so. But you know what they say about assuming. I told the 911 operator that there was a fire that we could see from our backyard, and gave her the approximate location. She connected me with the fire department, and I repeated what I had said. He confirmed that a truck was on the way. Still, I was glad I called, because I’m sure we were one of the first to see the fire. Bill thinks the booms were propane or gas cans exploding. Even after they got the fire out, the street was closed for several hours. I asked one of the police officers if there had been a fatality, and she said no. Thank you Jesus……

Tart
One of the fellows with whom Bill boxes recently gave me a bag of grapefruits from his backyard grapefruit tree. I love grapefruit, but I almost never buy them because Bill can’t eat them because they interact with some of his Parkinson’s meds. I ate one the next morning, and then forgot that I had them. The other day, I stumbled upon them in our refrigerator’s vegetable drawer. They looked a bit worse for wear, but I decided to squeeze the juice from them and enjoy some fresh grapefruit juice. That night when Bill and I were having our cocktail party, instead of one of my usual imbibements, I made myself a Salty Dog, which is grapefruit juice and gin, served in a salt-rimmed glass. It was delicious and very satisfactory on a hot day…..

Construction
Our Canadian friends are back at their own home, and we are missing them very much. The house’s owner, who had leased it to them for two months, has returned. Since she arrived, there has been considerable construction going on in their back yard. There was a very large piece of children’s equipment that we could see over our fence that she has had removed. I’m not sure what else is going on but the workmen have been there for days. Yesterday I noticed one of the trucks was a pet door installer. Since she has a small dog, that gives me hope that perhaps she is not getting it ready to put up for sale, but instead is simply making it more friendly for her and her little girl. Fingers crossed.

Aarf
And speaking of that little dog, I met him a while back when we first arrived here in AZ. She came over to say hello, and she was carrying a little dog. When we left last spring, she was living with her boyfriend, who had a pit bull named Phoenix. Jen and I would laugh every morning when they would come outside for Phoenix to do his morning duties. We laughed because he seemed to be quite naughty. “Phoenix, no no no,” we would hear her yell again and again. Now boyfriend doesn’t live there any more, and there is only the small dog — a doodle dog of some sort named Turbo. No every morning I hear, “Turbo, no no no.” I believe she should not consider opening a dog training school.

Ciao.