Another voice in this log

My Fort Lauderdale friend Christine Winter ought to have a log. She's a great writer and appreciates a good adventure. She reminds me that I've been remiss here:


I am trying to figure out why you haven't added to your blog in more than a week. Either you have come back to USA to finish up your divorce or the purchase of your mother's house, or you are globetrotting around unappealing parts of Europe and the Mideast. Maybe you've decided to go to Indonesia and await the next earthquake and/or tsunami? Or maybe your laptop crashed.
Nothing too exciting going on here except there have been a bunch of alligator attacks, which gives me something else to worry about. Bad enough I have to fret about hurricanes, traffic, bufo toads, snakes and especially pythons and boa constrictors, now i have read that alligators can push under a cyclone fence if it isn't buried. I have to check mine tomorrow, it was buried at one time, but the yard guys whack the hell out of it with their weed whackers. My dogs would be very appealing to a hungry gator. So far they (gators, not my dogs) have killed three women in recent weeks. Although early stories said that one gator stalked a jogger, even I know that isn't likely. They now suspect she was dangling her feet in a canal. Another was snorkling in some body of water and the third was a druggie who probably fell in a canal, nobody really knows. For the life of me I can't understand why anybody would swim in inland waters in Florida. My sister said she shudders now to think of the way she and her fellow students swam in lakes in Gainesville when she was getting her doctorate, and just walked around gators littering the paths between buildings.