Moscow and London were out because of my accident resulting in a broken wrist. August left  one further plan. My brother wanted my mother’s long-cherished dream of seeing Hawaii to come true, so he booked passage on a cruise, and I was invited.  Seven days sailing along the Hawaiian islands, visiting various ports with garden tours, coffee-tastings, and a luau thrown in.  The first kink in the plan was that I threw my back out while leaning to brush my cat who was sitting on a chair.  The second was Hurricane Lane. I traveled to NJ as scheduled. There, we wondered what to do.  After much delay, our flight to Honolulu was cancelled and Norwegian trimmed the cruise back to five days. After hemming and hawing, or humming and howing,  along with intense perusal of weather forecasts, and pondering the ethics of visiting a disaster-zone as tourist-consumers, we cut the cruise out altogether. Thus, New Jersey, on my back, waiting out a pulled back, on a carpet or bed of my choice.

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