The base commissary now stocks instant pho. As a service to readers, I set out to determine whether it can be et. Surprisingly, it can! As you can see, my experiment was conducted in the presence of neutral observers. Well, maybe not so neutral:
“Can it be et?” is from one of Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin seafaring novels (I can’t remember which one, so you’ll have to read all 20 of them … don’t worry, you’ll thank me for turning you on to the best series ever written):
“Jack, Jack! For all love, Jack, in the rigging – I believe that is an Ancient Murrelet!”
“Why yes Stephen, to be sure he looks somewhat grizzled – can it be et?”
A rainy Sunday in Tucson, Arizona. Still in lockdown, confined to quarters while my face recovers from a dermatologist-induced sunburn. The sentence ends this Thursday and I can resume normal activities. Since shaving was out for a few days, I thought I might grow another beard and mustache. Nope. I couldn’t stand what I saw in the mirror this morning and took the razor to it. Feeling much better about myself now.
I’m signing up to do volunteer work with Mark Kelly’s senate campaign in Arizona. I don’t want to knock on doors or cold-call people, but I may be doing some stuff on social media and helping register voters at local events.
Old friends and squadron mates are in town and we’re taking them out to dinner Tuesday (I can go out at night, like a vampire). We’ll have lots to talk about: old times, who’s where, and to be sure the topic that always comes up when you get older: who’s no longer around.