Yes, not too much is going on here tonight. A few people sipping tea, a couple of others with a cola, a pair of cute polar bear cubs tossing back some salmom . . . and an angel of two just sitting and relaxing. Friday (our dog, remember) is stretched out on the plank floor under my leg which rests upon the neighboring chair rung. I can feel his fur soft on my skin. And I guess he feels me.

We still have to do our nightly call checks on a couple of folks, make certain they are tucked in all safe – especially Sarah who pretty much drives us crazy . . . especially when she goes down in the bunker and hears water dripping. She can’t hear anything else too well, but let one drop drip and she’s on alert. In which case she grabs a flashlight and comes to report, her face leaning down close to yours. Just like this Christmas Eve . . . “I think there’s a pinpoint leak in the bunker . . . ”

And now that we’re thinking of her, we are also remembering she always checks her tires before she get cleaned up to go anywhere. Might have a flat, dontcha know. We’d call Sarah on the old Candlestick brass phone because we know she hates its tinny sound and we like to hold the receiver to our ear while we wrap the other hand around the upright part and lift the speaker cone to our lips, but Sprint to Sprint is free.

So it’s speed dial time . . . #6.