Burning the Last Full Day

Toilet seats remain in the upright position for the next few months in the house as my wife departed along with the PanaGal this morning for the warmer climes of Panama.  They are both in the air as I write this.  From the weather reports they got out just in time – tonight’s supposed to be the coldest it’s been in over six years – so I’ve got that going for me (along with the empty bed).

My Dinner Date Last Night

I’ve written before about the astounding quality my wife possesses to absolutely fill a house despite her less than stalwart physical size.  These last days before her annual tropical deployment are never easy as we both try to savor time together knowing it’s an ever dwindling resource.  I returned home from work to find her and the PanaGal addressing the routine problem of trying to fit everything they needed into two suitcases of less than fifty pounds each.  The past couple weeks of shopping had contributed mightily to their quandary.  I was called upon for no less than three separate weigh ins as items were shifted between suitcases straining under their loads.  They achieved tier final solution by graciously packing my suitcase for my February trip down to Panama – I hope there’s some space left for my own things. That final solution had one of the PanaGal’s suitcases with four pounds to spare which led to the obvious question – “Do we have time to go shopping to fill that space up?” 

I’d like to think she was joking but I took matters into my own hands and said I was taking my wife out for a farewell dinner which dimmed the shopping odds considerably.  I first had to clear the driveway which the light dusting of snow the meteorologists promised turned into 2-3” of the white stuff; just enough to make the driveway up the hill a bit tenuous.

We had a very nice dinner together although, as always in these day befores, there was the cloud of impending separation robbing a little bit of the light.  She used the time to insure I understood her specific instructions in attire during her absence – she really worries about my abject lack of fashion sense and how some of my creative combinations would reflect on her.  I assured her that everyone would know (if not from my fashion statements) that she had abdicated her usual oversight responsibilities for a couple months.  We also spoke about what we hoped to accomplish in the way of house construction on our land in Panama since I’ve committed to a 60^th birthday for her next year in that heretofore imagined abode.  We returned home and I tried to cajole her into bed (not for the obvious and prurient conclusions you just drew either – well there was that, but I digress).  We had to get to bed early because we were getting up at 2:30AM due to the hideously early flight the PanaGal needed to catch out of Boston.  My wife felt the need to start cleaning the kitchen until I reminded her that I would have a lot of free time absent her supervision, and that I would not allow anyone to cross our threshold until I finished cleaning the kitchen. 

Having finally finished my two month foray into the world of Travis McGee I returned to find books had come out from several of my other favorite authors.  I started out with Michael Connelly’s The Burning Room with his everyman L.A. detective Hieronymus (Harry) Bosch.  This turned out to be one of the best Boschs ever as Harry is approaching retirement (again) and is saddled with a new partner  - a young Latina detective (you know I have a soft spot there).  Over the course of the book and solving of a couple cold cases he grows to like and admire the youngster and tries to teach her the ropes.

As always Harry falls into issues with the political leadership of the LAPD – something I really like about him.  However most of the book was consumed with Harry’s methodical and fascinating crime solving where Connelly is always at his best.  I hope Connelly doesn’t actually retire Harry – I’d miss him, a lot. I’ll close with some of Connelly’s words from The Burning Room, as Harry recognizes a needed quality in fellow detective: 

“Harry nodded.  His instinct was right.  The good ones all had that hollow  space inside.  The empty place where the fire always burns.  For something.  Call it justice.  Call it the need to know.  Call it the need to believe that those who are evil will not remain hidden in the darkness forever.”