Recovered family correspondence — January 7, 2008.
Broke (and sprained the snot out of) my ankle. Truman ate my pain killers, damn near died. Vet bills exceeded ankle bills. We will both live, que milagro.
A few notes, for color — it’s challenging to climb a ladder to paint cathedral ceilings with an air cast. Second, Truman appears to prefer his home-cooked bland diet of sweet potatoes, chicken broth and finely chopped chicken. However, he can tongue his pills effectively; we find them when we sweep. Hoodlum.
I’m going to consult in public policy facilitation, mediation, labor negotiation for awhile in Boulder, see how it looks. I saved enough money to live for 2 years, so that gives me some options. I would like not to return to municipal admin practice…
I’m a little nervous to ask Pete if he’s started to consider a job yet; don’t want to set anything off.
— Jo Zeimet
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