Dothan

Sitting here this morning in the Marriott Courtyard on the Ross Clark Circle in Dothan, Alabama. The last time I stayed here was for a diocesan convention years ago--my old friend Gary Smith and I drank our body volume in beer in the hospitality suite just down the hall from where I'm sitting. That seems like a century ago.

Today I'll spend eight hours or so in a lawyer's office defending a deposition in a really nasty business dispute. I flew down from Corning yesterday morning, stopping in Spartanburg to refuel. The flights were uneventful, except during the stopover when I saw that one of the lawyers had left me a voicemail saying his partner had some sort of medical issue at home, and we'd need to reschedule the deposition. I called back, choking back the anger and explaining that we all have our crises to manage, and he just needed to figure out how to manage a little adversity.

"Well, you could always head down to Panama City and hang out for a few days until we get this back on the books."

Now the anger overflowed a little. I have no home in Panama City, haven't since October 10, 2018. I have no office, because it's still not finished as I sit here. I am not sitting in a hotel room, away from Peg, because someone's having trouble finding his big boy pants.

The deposition remained on the books, and here I am.

Last night I sat in the lounge and nursed a Jameson while talking with my sister for the first time in forever. My folks' health gets worse every day, and she's there bearing the brunt of it, acting as bathroom helper and house cleaner and companion. I feel guilty leaving that to her, but I am not at a point in life where I can take an indefinite leave to attend to these things.

And I'm starting to worry that I'm flying the plane too much. Every trip down here puts 8-9 hours of time on the engine, each way. This plane was flown maybe 75 hours a year before we bought it--in the last six weeks, I've put over 40 on the mighty Columbia. It already needs an oil change in the next couple weeks. Something's got to give. Maybe I just stay in Florida for a few weeks at a time. But Peg is in New York and, again, I have no place to live or work here. But with the thaw, I have to start showing up in-person, and those demands are now popping up every couple weeks. That's great news if you live here, but a disaster if you've built your practice around working from wherever you happen to be sitting that day. Again, something's got to give.

Last night after I hung up with my sister, I found a little diner just down the street, and saw they had a house hamburger and onion rings that seemed like the most delicious offering imaginable to a guy who was still running on a bowl of oatmeal consumed thirteen hours before. Peg generally doesn't put that sort of fried fare in front of me, because I get excruciating heartburn that I'm afraid will kill me one day.

So, of course, I ordered the burger and rings. When the cat's away . . .

They were, of course, everything I hoped they'd be. Then at two a.m. I suffered the consequences, sleeping propped up on pillows to try to keep the battery acid below my diaphragm.

And there were nightmares. I have too much on my mind these days.

This morning I treated myself to a run through the pretty gated (but unguarded) community behind the hotel. I snapped pics for P, knowing she and Issac like nothing more than talking about houses and landscaping and decorating ideas. I'm trying to learn to be interested, trying to become more of a team player. It doesn't come naturally to me.

I particularly liked this house for its siding and cool chimney. Sort of on the big side for us, however.

And it had a super cool greenhouse out back, far lovelier than the one at Wyldswood. Maybe George could build this for us, when he gets to the end of the to-do list. In 2028.

If we were starting from scratch on the farm, this seems like it'd suit us aesthetically.

I ran past a pond and thought the geese seemed lethargic. Turns out they're fake, as are the ducks. There's a metaphor in there somewhere.

Time to pull myself together for the day's festivities. If we finish in time, I may try to get back to Corning in one hop. Big tailwinds forecast for tonight, and bad weather on the horizon for tomorrow. I'd hate to find myself stuck in Dothan for the balance of the week.