In my blast-through buttoning up and battening down the hatches yesterday, I looked at my two best knives, sharpened to a fare-thee-well by Dada. My guess is that these would be the ones certain teenagers were throwing at the door. One has totally disappeared. And there are metal knife points in the chopping block. From now on people can use el cheapo knives. And those particular people will not be back next year. Meanwhile, I'm going to beat the storm off island today. Feels odd to be leaving in a dead calm, but a friend in New Jersey says the waves are already whipping up there. Houses now crowded with Adirondack chairs, hammocks, boogie boards and outdoor rockers, but presumably the redoubtable Santanas will deal with that. And all else. Their son lost his mainland house in the spring floods, and we're hoping it will not come to that this time.
