Charlie's Business Card

     It seems that I was in the vanguard with my siege of ‘la grippe’ this past week.  We are getting reports right and left, now, of friends who have “the crud” or “bronchitis” or who are “two degrees this side of pneumonia.”  ’Tis the season, for sure.
     Even Charlie called about noon yesterday saying he was taking refuge at a Comfort Inn in Yreka.  He’s on his way north from L.A. – often a straight-through-eighteen-hour drive for him – and we were expecting him last evening for dinner.  Just about the time we were headed home from the Crab Pot in Long Beach with fresh cracked crab for a festive holiday meal, we got the call.
     It is my experience that you can’t keep crab so, of necessity, Nyel and I pigged out for dinner.  I don’t know if my taste buds are ruined from my eight day illness, or if the Crab Pot just wasn’t up to it’s usual standard, but I really couldn’t give justice to the meal.  Way too salty.  Nyel did better than I, but as he says, “I grew up in Idaho, so what do I know?  A crab connoisseur I’m not.”
     Well. it was a disappointment and I was almost relieved that Charlie hadn’t been here.  But not really.  Although I was pleased that he was breaking his trip into two parts (like any sane and sensible person would, but we won’t go there…)  his message also said that he was was feeling “a little queasy.”  Uh oh!  Not Charlie, too!
     He said he’d sleep for awhile and head out of Yreka around midnight.  I think he should be rolling into Oysterville any time now.  The porch light is on.  Will he feel okay?  Will he be up to the holiday festivities?  We’ll know soon.  Any time now…