Today we had fascinating private JFK assassination tour. So much to tell. We learned that the public wasn’t privy to many facts about that heartbreaking day.  But I’m too tired to fill in the details. Maybe tomorrow.

Two hours before the tour started, we had excitement.  I was attempting to shut off the water when this happened.  And no, I wasn’t able to save the day by putting my finger in the dike.


We were told we’d get a different room at the end of the day.  We piled all our stuff into Gracie, the marvelous mini-van, and waved goodbye to Robert, the soaked to the skin maintenance man.  We dropped Bronson off at The Pet Resort and raced to meet our tour guide.

While sitting in our suitcase, in the 100-degree heat, my hormone replacement therapy meds, used to living in air-conditioning, melted down into a lump of paraffin.

Who knows what kind of hot flashing freaking out menopausal monster I’ll turn into within the next few days?  Poor Jim.

My family doctor is off until Monday.  But, YAY, my brother-in-law is a doctor.

Eek!?!  I just remembered, he retired a couple of weeks ago. Can he still prescribe?  OMG.  Oh well…Too late to fret about it now.  Time to crawl into the feathers.  First I’ll crank the temperature down to arctic levels.  Take that, Hot Flashes!