This afternoon I’ll drive to Tryon to visit with my friend Peter. We’ll grill the ribeyes I marinated overnight in terryaki sauce and we’ll talk. It feels strange that so much time has passed since our last cookout and stranger still not to be planning to spend the night in his basement bedroom, but flood damage repair takes time. Months, in fact.
8:30 – back from Peter’s. Almost everything the flood undid has been redone and Peter is still Peter, which was good to see. Charlie is still Charlie, too. Still not going berzerk at the drop of a hat (as he did in the before time) and still skittish as hell. Charlie leads a secret life that distracts him from most of what you or I might term “reality.”