Small Escapes

The troubles with A.N. (see previous post) have not gone away and perhaps have only worsened in the last ten days. So far, he has not knocked on the door today, but the day ain’t over. I don’t know what the answer is. Sometimes I feel like a prisoner in my own house. (A prisoner with nothing to say, apparently, given my complete lack of blogging.)

Despite this, I have had some good moments in the aforementioned last ten days. Most of these moments have involved leaving the house, which is one way, of course, to stop feeling imprisoned in it. For example:

• Lunch at the café at the goat farm down the road, both weekends, listening to Matt on guitar and sucking down the best toasted cheese sandwiches ever.
• A couple of gourmet dinners with Tim and Dan, followed one evening by a night walk on the rail trail, during which time I heard my first woodcock of the season. Thrill.
• A date with Tim to see Casablanca on a huge screen. Front-row balcony seats.
• Getting PNF (proprioceptive neuromuscular facilitation) stretched.
• A visit from some dear Northbrook friends, whom we hadn’t seen since the place closed—a visit during which Indigo Bunting learns that it is not a good idea to throw diesel-fuel-splashed jeans into a washing machine.
• Another salon at Lali’s, this one on beekeeping, starring our friend Deb (now back in town, or she would have been having gourmet dinners with me and Tim and Dan).
• A very quick trip up the mountain to see a brother-in-law, sister-in-law, sister-out-law, two nieces, and a nephew, who are spending a couple of days skiing.

And no doubt some other stuff.

April is looming with some scary unknowns. I am feeling rather unsettled.