Reading: The Door in the Hedge

Moving: walked 2.7 miles

Watching: "Richard III"

Learning: about landscape design and xeriscape gardening and nifty stuff

8 September 2000: Rite-Aid

Or is it the 9th? It's Saturday, anyway. Could it be the 10th? I love the weekends. Okay, it's the 9th.

RDC has whatever cursed thing I had, except different. He has more fever and chills. We took him to the ER Tuesday night, and yes it's Saturday and he's still sick. No, I wasn't faking it when I said I was sick for six days. So I scampered to Rite-Aid for him. I was there for an hour. Damn, what a boring store. There weren't even any good magazines to steal a read from. I read the first few pages of a bodice-ripper, though. It was called Savage Devotion and it starred a long-haired redhead who, even on a steamer in the middle of Puget Sound in the 19th century, didn't put up or even braid her hair, which is ohsolikely, and a native American man from a tribe whose name I forget but which sounded likely. I skipped the first chapter, which set up the man's background, because I figured bad anthropology would make me want to poke my eye out, and started on the second, which had her on the steamer's deck with her hair flying in the wind, the wind that increased as a storm wrecked the boat and separated her from her family and tossed her into Tonto's arms. Well, the last two predicate phrases I'm assuming, I confess. Anyway, I stopped reading when I got to this sentence: "As a twelve-year-old girl, all the boys were in love with her." I've written a dangling modifiers in my life, but I've never published one. Or anything, for that matter.