Thoughts About . . . 3 Hours

Three hours — I have three hours that I didn’t know I’d have. First, I thought I’d spend an hour, round trip, to go and do an interview with an artist. I’m writing a book on the subject. When I called her for an appointment she mentioned that she was going to the eye doctor at 9:30 today.

“Hey,” I said, “would you like to stop by my house after the exam?” That would save me an hour.

Then there was my husband’s appointment at the medical center. He said he could go alone. The consultations were pretty much the same any more. They consist mostly of confirming the meds he is taking and the PSA number. It goes up and down, mostly up,and moods correspond. I think I’ll take him up on his offer. It will save me two hours.

What will I do with these three hours?

I think I’ll call my friend at Yarnell, Arizona — the one whose house turned to ashes when an enormous, fast-moving, huge, crackling fire engulfed it, and many others, in the devastating fire of June 2013.

Now the nearby town of Prescott, from whence the 19 Hotshots came to fight the fire, has lost their Hotshot crew. Wives and children are left without husbands and fathers. There’s a fight going on because many of the men were part-time firefighters who were not insured. Is it fair? Certainly not.

Now I’ll go send my e-mail.

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