Never fails. I get the apartment back in order and something happens to mess it up again. But at least this is a happy mess. Suitcases. Many suitcases. Tomorrow, we're away to our summer vacation.
"Don't you dare tell where we're going," said Dolores as I sat down to type. She was at the table eating breakfast while Harry mulled over the packing list.
"And why not?" I asked.
"Because mama needs an absolute rest," she sighed, running a hoof through the tangled fleece falling down over one eye.
"You just slept for fourteen hours," I said. "How tired can you possibly be?"
"Does it still count as sleeping if it starts as passing out?" said Harry.
"The point," huffed Dolores through a spoonful of Hay-Os, "is that the giddy whirl of my life requires periodic absences from the public eye. I gotta recharge. I need peace. I need solitude. I don't want to get there and find a bunch of smart-ass photographers waiting to catch me off guard. Remember what happened last time I went to Montreal to see Victorine? We were barely past baggage claim when they swarmed the car."
"That was because Victorine ran over a porter," I said. "Twice."
"It doesn't matter why they were there," she insisted. "The point is that they were there, right up in my face, snapping and flashing and asking impertinent questions. What's your name, madame? Why are you here? Did you not hear him scream the second time? Feh."
"I asked one of the policemen if I could get some copies of his photos for my scrapbook," said Harry. "But he never sent me any. I don't think his English was too good. So I just bought some postcards instead."
"Have you finished the packing yet?" said Dolores.
"No," said Harry.
"Then how is it that you have time to sit here and run your mouth?"
"I've got some questions about your list," said Harry. "I found all fourteen bathing suits, but I don't know what this is." He pointed to an item halfway down, surrounded by asterisks.
"Oh," said Dolores. "That's in the back of my bottom drawer. It's pink. Do me a favor, precious, and put it in your carry-on instead of mine, okay? Mine's a bit heavy. And throw in some extra batteries."
"Righty-o," chirped Harry.
"Don't give me that look," said Dolores as Harry rolled away. "Where we're going that's all the action I'm gonna get."
"I thought you needed absolute rest," I said. "And to be left alone."
"There's alone," said Dolores, "and there's alone. I don't mind being Lorelei on a rock as long as I can entertain the occasional sailor."
"The Lorelei used to entertain sailors so much that she killed them," I reminded her.
"I know," sighed Dolores. "Now that's technique."
While We're Away
I need a little vacation as much as Dolores, and while we're gone this blog will be quiet unless you'd care to chat amongst yourselves. However, if you'd like to hear me, please listen in on the next episode of the Knitmore Girls Podcast, which should pop up early next week. I had merry time with Jasmin and Gigi, mother and daughter 'casters.
We'll be back in a week or so, and will miss you terribly. If you wouldn't mind watering the violets, airing the sock yarn and taking in the newspaper I'd be much obliged and will bring you back a little something.