We Don't Really Know in Everyday Ramblings

The ruffles, and almost sewn quality of this iris are pretty cool. Plus I love the color of white with the subtle violet blue undertone.

Sometime today would you eat a few nuts, maybe a cracker or some celery or carrots or toast and enjoy them for me? I admit this not being able to eat solid food is getting a bit old. Last surgery he covered the grafts with a membrane that I could kind of sort of chew on, this time because it is a living tooth, no such luck.

I find I am happier if I focus on what I can eat. Cherries and raspberries and bananas and protein drinks and soup and scrambled eggs. It is a challenge to feel full.

We still don’t have locks on our mailbox yet. I was going to hike over to the post office last night after work but bailed because it was wet and cold and I was feeling, well, tired. I took a bath and read with constant attendance by the felines in my life.

These are the most curious engaged cats I have ever encountered. They are vibrantly alive and playful and interested in everything I do. Diego clearly thinks I am a big weirdly misshapen cat and treats me accordingly.

I am finishing the memoir I have been talking about here, The Iceberg. It makes me understand how deeply grateful I am that Mr. Finch had the ability to speak coherently up until we finally needed to give him anti-psychotics that last day because his will to live was so strong and he kept hurting himself by falling and flailing around. I couldn’t keep him safe. I tried. The nurses tried.

Her husband was an art critic, extremely articulate, and her description of his gradual loss of language is both beautiful and just heart breaking. It is an extraordinary book and I am glad I am reading it, but it is not easy. I wonder what it would be like to read for someone who hasn’t been through something like this.

She says once hospitalized for the last time her husband expressed no shame about his body, or being vulnerable and not being able to do things for himself. I noticed that with the bird guy as well. He was determined to do what he could but he gave up graciously when it was not possible.

I think that is a trait of temperament but I also wonder if it is a guy thing? Trained in our value being evaluated based on our appearance would it be easier just to slip into an almost dream state of incoherence for us women as our bodies fail us?

I am of course thinking about the memoir Mr. Finch wanted me to write that I haven’t been able to make time for. This is research.

We never know how we are going to be in any given circumstance. I know all those years ago I didn’t want to quit smoking because the idea of whom I would be if I didn’t smoke did not appeal to me. I wanted to be perceived as a wild artistic risk taker, not some Miss Goody Two Shoes, following the rules.

From the perspective of Miss Goody Two Shoes closing in on thirty years later, it isn’t so bad after all. :) At least I am healthy and it certainly is cheaper and more appealing in general not to smoke.

So really I don’t know how I will be at the end of my life. I hope I can manage to be relatively cheerful and kind instead of the Princess I often can be.

Miss E. is on her exchange program in Loire-Atlantique France, near Nantes on the West Coast. The word is that she is bored. The high school is boring, the family is boring… Only an almost 16 year old could be bored under those circumstances.

She is used to having a lot of autonomy. A lot. We all have our fingers crossed that she stays safe, doesn’t start smoking and, umm, doesn’t get pregnant.

That is not a lot to ask is it?

Last updated May 20, 2016