Retrograde Routine

Last week, for me, was about as frantic as it gets.  I move at such an incredibly slow pace these days I swear sometimes I can actually see the process of evolution.  Or maybe it's just decay.  Mine or the planet's.  I'm not entirely sure.

Anyway, a lot LOT happened last week. I did my best to adjust and rise to the occasions. Luckily I had a lot of help. Eldest Daughter went above and beyond the call of duty to make a luncheon sojourn convenient and comfortable for me. I was very grateful and touched by her effort. Dancing Daughter graciously performed wheelchair duty on my behalf. Her biceps are probably still screaming in pain.

Oh, and my Precious Middle Daughter was busy doing other much more important things.

                         
 Dream come true.  Luckily the sweet little gal snoozed and wasn't freaked out by the scary purple lady.

Happy Sleepy Daddy

All three home and well and doing fine.  Wish I could provide some nap time relief for the new Mommy.  She'll be fantastic at this new phase in her life.  She already is.

Now, for me.  I had doubled up on some meds in order to avoid embarrassment and unnecessary physical agony.  This was only mildly successful;  as there were several humiliating moments.  I did my best; but someday I know I'm going to have to have conversations about this and I am already scared.  Took several days to return to a more or less even keel.  Must remember that artificial sweeteners are no longer my friend.  Not a major adjustment; more of a not so gentle reminder.

Finally received my long awaited copies of Interiors magazine.  How can I cope with this level of disappointment?  I take reading very seriously and, frankly, I feel betrayed.  So sleek.  So sterile.  So "how can anybody possibly live in these buildings."  So supercilious.  I know it's just a design mag and the focus on modernism was always clear. But, Holy Cow!  Even the huge food photos made me wince.  Plates with almost invisible cubes of barely recognizable beef and bubbles.  Bubbles?!  No, no, no.  I can just imagine the pomposity of the prices.  Clearly I am not the target audience; I could never be quite this trendy or cutting edge.  I know how to push my envelope and Interiors magazine simply does not fit.

On a completely different note I saw one photo on fb (or Satan's Playground as I'm beginning to call it) and puked a little in my mouth.  I will stick to gazing with love at the faces of my children, their children, and the several others I hold dear.  Hopefully, y'all know who you are.  If not, I will try and do a better job in the future.