Mrs. T and I were forced to temporarily postpone our annual trip to Florida in order to resolve a lingering health problem that had laid her low. The good news is that her doctors finally assured us last Tuesday that we could fly down over the weekend, leaving the gloomy weather in Connecticut far behind us.
It had just started to snow in Hartford when our plane took off, but we got underway in the nick of time and without incident. We landed in Fort Myers at four o’clock, drove straight from the airport to Sanibel Island, dined on Doc Ford’s Yucatan shrimp, and slept deeply and well a stone’s throw from the Gulf of Mexico. On Sunday we drove back across the causeway to see a revival of John Guare’s The House of Blue Leaves that I’ll be reviewing later this week in The Wall Street Journal, then returned with alacrity to our beach hideaway.
Today I’m writing an obituary for Nat Hentoff that will appear this afternoon in the online Journal, after which I’ll go to work on my review of The House of Blue Leaves. Once that’s filed, my plan is to spend a few days doing plenty of nothing. If you need me, it can wait. It’ll have to.