Goodbye September

Lately I've been thinking of great names for blog titles.

 Not having much success developing the blog posts themselves.

I've changed many routines around my home.  For the better I hope.

Fighting years of bad habits is more than just difficult.

Especially now that so many words and speech abilities are apparently lost to me.

Frightening and threatening.

Ah, yes.

Carry on after all.

Another month to attempt.

This late bloomer thing is killing me.

Too late to be a Renaissance Woman without any special learning?

Then I found the above.

Perhaps in the nick of time.

And so, I am creating memorabilia (until I think of a better name for them) for the important special folk in my life.

Meaning to me, and hopefully to them.

Letting go of ridiculous rules and using the time available.

If this is my adulthood I will continue to do the best I have.

Truly grateful for what I have.

Challenged by what comes with each day.

Victory has a new definition.

Welcome October.

Goody Goody Happy Day!



One year ago...

The beautiful bride...

A beautiful bridesmaid...

Beautiful baby boy.

Each are all better today!

Have a great wedding, Juice, Juice's boys, and the other Juice!

Happiness and contentment forever!

xoxo, db

Humdinger

Every single day I'm loving this little spot more and more.  If I could walk I'd be sweeping, dusting, and rearranging like I had never done before.  Sadly everything below waist level is very difficult.  Using my sweet carpet sweeper takes hours to complete one hall runner. 

But every single day seems a bit of joy.  The bedroom window is the best and least expensive form of entertainment I'd discovered.  Yesterday the cooking aromas were transporting me yet again.  Bacon crispy.  Garlic potatoes.  Peach pie or coffee cake.  And, oh man! grilled hot dogs.  I was tempted to carry a sign outside:  "Will sing for your leftovers!"

High school friend visited bringing a frothy, chocolaty, whip creamy, chilly beverage.  Yummy!  And I'm sure I am the only American who has never spent $5.00 on fancy schmancy take out coffee.  Now I know why everyone does!  She stayed hours into the dark.  She risked letting her husband make his own dinner and we talked about our childhood similarities and spiritual beliefs.  What a gift.

Able to give a birthday present to Sister.  And Son helped hang the prototype bedroom curtain.  Both successful.  Good day.  Thanks.

6:26 PM

Two perfect days here in the Midwest.

Both days had glorious special breezes (required for swell weather).  Leaf breezes.  Grass breezes.  Sifting evergreen into the windows breezes.  Even the ridiculous squirrels were stopping and popping on the sidewalk breezes.

The sky on both days were worth writing home about.  But, less admit it, sky blue in and of itself isn't something special.  There are a jillions blue shades that I prefer.  Cobalt.  Turquoise.  Cerulean.  Beany Malone bed room walls.  My grandchildren's eyes.
But when the sky has the cloudy condiments in the usual blue it is damn well acceptable.

Yesterday was a sweet shopping day.  Found each item:  wooden clothes pins, the blue toilet tank bowl freshener, hot Oke Doke cheese popcorn, votive candles, key lime yoghurt, and the giant coral cactus I've been scouting for two months.  Such a happy girl.

AND... I got to drive myself home in my precious Ancient Vehicle with two new tires!

Today I replanted plants.  Met the PT chap.  Spoke to five (FIVE!) of my favorite peoples.  Watched the Children Parade which I've missed this summer.  Made an almost perfect tuna sandwich.  Realized how lucky I am to have the daughters, friends and grandchildren that I have.  Especially today I am grateful

Oh, it got dark at 6:26 pm.  If it stayed a bit lighter a bit longer....oh, yeah... I'm focusing on gratitude.

Cha Cha Changes

August done and gone and lost so many days.

 Saw several of the interiors of my body that I never expected to see.  Listened to the underground music of a "fancy schmancy brain scan" which was surprisingly entertaining.  Lost the ability to speak and gave gallons for blood tests.  Ate really crappy food and ate unusually yummy food.  Watch, I think, every Star Trek movie offered on the television.  Missed my own little apartment very much and ever so grateful to be able to return eventually in one rather piece.

Phone calls with precious friends, Baby Sister and visits from  even more precious friends, Sister and son, cherished Darling Daughters and their babies.  Visits from others I never would have imagined ever occurring; and am still trying to fathom and determine those events.  People who went out of their own busy lives to check up on me and to let me know they care.  I am incredibly blessed with these remarkable humans.

September is here now.  Trying to catch up on all I left on my desk a month ago.  Suddenly even my life has becoming hectic.  Paperwork and phone calls and emails that are all vital and new.  I will be  on a priority and a new schedule I really do not  prefer.  Yet glad I have a bit still to attempt.

It's Not Unusual

Yesterday I finished reading my first graphic novel.  I'd heard of these, through nieces and references on the old Roseanne program.  I'm not an authority; but I'm told one should not refer to them as comics.  As if comics were shameful or somehow less worthy of the reader's time.

This book was mentioned on a facebook page I peruse and, since I know and respect the page writer, I decided to read the book.  I easily reserved a copy at my local library. I was surprised.  The book was good.  Not a lot of excess verbiage and the illustrations were quite powerful.  The plot specifically focuses on the middle and high school years of Jeffrey Dahmer.  The author was about the same age as Dahmer at the time, and so his insights are colored by that perspective.  But that is all to the good.  As he traces Dahmer's behavior the author poignantly asks, "Where were the adults?"  Indeed.  Aren't we all sick of hearing/reading after yet another catastrophe involving young folk that the adults saw no signs?  Just what the fuck were they doing anyway?

My familiarity with comics (and I see nothing wrong with lumping graphic novels into that genre) is limited to my own youthful fascination with superheroes.  Superman was my 'go to' guy.  I've written elsewhere about how I never had an older brother and always wanted one.  Anyway, my possessing even a smidge of Superman lore allowed me to win a beer and pizza dinner for myself and my then boyfriend when I was first an undergrad.  The question:  Name Superman's mermaid girlfriend.

Oh, I also had a roommate whose boyfriend was a bit of a stoner and tried to get  me to fall in love with r crumb.  It didn't take as I had far too much homework that semester.  Altho it seems Mr. Backderf was profoundly influenced.  His art bears a striking resemblance.

Anyway, this book did what I believe all good writing should do.  It made me want to learn more about the topic.  If exploring the mind of a budding serial killer and his parents and the boys he went to school with intrigues you; then by all means seek out My Friend Dahmer by Derf Backderf.

It might even make you wonder about public schooling in this ever so great country of ours. 

End O The Week O

Blessings this week:

A really cool call from my best friend whom I never see informing me about an opportunity to obtain some much needed medical aid.  She's such a sweetie for thinking of me.

Really good news for Darling Eldest Daughter and her boys.  Wagons Ho!

The potential for really good things to happen soon for Sister and Son.  I'm always baffled when I hear that "siblings" begrudge her any good fortune.  Some of this family "just ain't right."

Really weird failure at making dark chocolate peanut butter fudge.  Let's call it a learning experience.  Tastes great but ugly.

Lots of really good books from Library Guy and a special order magazine that came in its own sealed delivery pouch.

Finding the really magnificent "little red rock" I've been searching for.  Take THAT, Big Box.  The item was discovered in Tennessee.

And, could it be?  Here at Elder House the distinct aroma of a pot smoking geezer.   Summer has officially begun I guess.

Losses

I've blogged about the ambulance sitch before.

Most of the time the people who go are folks I either don't know at all

or are simply acquaintances.

Most of the time they never come back.

I might find out from an overheard laundry room conversation

or I might see one of the office workers showing a newly vacant apartment.

Last week somebody I consider to be a friend left.

I saw them take her away.

She was awake and as feisty as ever.

I had spoken to her the day before.

Like most of us here, she talked about her fear of falling.

Sweet Carol.

She didn't fall.

She had a stroke.

A BAD stroke and is not expected to recover sufficiently to ever live by herself again.

Today I saw my friend Trish loaded up and driven away.

She saw me in my window and waved.

We had last talked two days ago

One of the topics was falling.

Now I'm going to call  her.

I hope it was just a fall.

Sweet Trish.