I'm home today with the sorest throat in the world. Maybe the dust-fest at work from all of us moving this week left me open to the germ-fest, not sure.
But all I wanna do now is sip my H.C. and head to bed in my humidifier-warm, sunshiney room. And do some easy sudokus and finish rereading Too Close to the Falls.
It's an autobio about a young girl, Cathy McClure, who grew up as only child whose folks were in their 40s (just like Charlie) in small-town Lewiston, New York. Through school, she was steeped in the Catholic church - making me even gladder than usual that I was spared that via our move up north when I was six.
(There was no Catholic school up there at the time, so I had no choice but to go to school with The Publics - see, I thought there was two kinds of people in the world: Catholics and Publics because there was two kinds of schools in Burlington. Which is why I was so worried when we went swimming at the Public Pool while we were still in Burlington; I thought for sure they'd be able to tell we were Catholics and kick us out. Once we moved up north and I went to school with the Publics, I found out that the Publics included a lot of Catholics. In fact, our principal was studying to become a priest.)
Cathy McClure was a pretty hyper kid, and seemingly fearless, but her family doctor simply and kindly advised her folks to put her to work. For many years after, she did pharmacy deliveries for her father's drug store with their delivery man, Roy, who was the perfect guardian and buddy for this very interesting kid.
Here's Catherine McClure Gildiner's website. And her book-tour blog. You must check her out.