Archive for May, 2011

Catch a wave

Wednesday, May 11th, 2011

And so I caught a wee bit of a wave today and felt a little more confident. Lots to do at work. Lunch with Mouse at Whole Foods. A few phone calls. Oh, not the one I’m waiting for, from Freighter View. But other people that I have northern business with called and that gave me a feeling of moving forward and I needed that. And there was even a call from Radical Betty. Of course, as I think I have said before, it wasn’t really Radical Betty. It was the mean old grunchie old grinchie, calling from her old cell phone and I think he was butt-dialing or whatever because, when I answered that particular call, she/he wasn’t there. She/he did catch up with me later on.

Tomorrow I turn back into the 21st century nomadic enigma. Leaving at 0-skunk-30 for the great not-so-white north and possibly meeting up with one of my northern business connections somewhere along the way. We’ll see how that works out. It cracks me up how much I am viewing this as an adventure! Will we be able to connect and, if so, where will we end up meeting? “I’m in Grayling, where are you?”, etc., etc. And I’ll be driving stick tomorrow. What if I have to answer the phone while shifting? Yeah. I know. It doesn’t take much to entertain me. But really, 10 years ago, this kind of meeting would not have been all that feasible.

Normalcy? Today is not Friday but we met down at the Old Town Barrrooom for dinner *anyway*. Yes, it surprised the waitresses, who do not expect us there on Wednesday. But I needed that. Home again, drying laundry, exhausted but it’s the fuzzy around the edges kind of exhaustion that comes with exercise. On to the next episode tomorrow. Oh, and twice today, I have heard (or read) that what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. I needed that!

P.S. It was HOT today. My summer clothes are tattered. That is all.

Wuthering Heights

Tuesday, May 10th, 2011

Sorry but go elsewhere if you are looking for puppy cams and rainbows and happy stuff. Why? Because I am living on Wuthering Heights today.

Why? Oh, don’t worry. Nothing *bad* has happened. In fact, I led a very successful “spec review” at work today. Everybody was polite and nobody panicked about anything. It’s the Living In Limbo Syndrome that’s getting to me. Big time…

When will I be able to actually stop living out of an ancient LL Bean duffle bag? I mean, I can easily do laundry wherever I am, so that’s not a problem, but I seem to have to get up every day and dredge the day’s outfit out of the shambling mound on the floor wherever I am. That works okay if I’m just schlepping around but bizcaz is another story. Even what passes for bizcaz at my work.

When will I be able to actually plan menus and shop for the ingredients 2-3 times a week instead of every damn day? I have been to the Plum Market every damn day since I’ve been down here on The Planet. I LOVE the Plum Market! But kee-reist!

When will… When will… One of these days my so-called life WILL return to whatever semblance it was before April 14th. The Commander’s life will return to SOME semblance of normalcy but it will be a DIFFERENT normalcy. I am acutely aware of that. And I am acutely aware that I am GAMBLING that keeping her in the long term care facility at the hospital while “we” await an opening at Freighter View is the right decision. Again, I do not think home care at her house is the best choice for her in the long run. It would probably be okay if I lived in Sault Ste. Siberia. But I do not live there and I do not think The Comm wants me to quit my job and my life to move there to be near her. I do not think I can manage it from five hours away and I think that, without driving privileges, she may become isolated in her house, even with help. And, in any case, I do not want to move her TWICE!!! I also know that the long term care can be difficult, even though the staff is really wonderful and are taking care to make sure she is okay. Know that I am second-guessing myself every step of the way. I think that if my brother (The Engineer) had lived longer, The Comm might have already been ensconced safely in FV *before* this thing happened. He had a different relationship with her than I do and I miss him more than I can say right now. That is all I’m gonna say.

I shouldn’t prob’ly be writing this openly about my feelings on the Internet but I felt like I was at the end of my rope today. Oh. My. God. I. Was. Tired. Today. Tomorrow could well be another day.

Meetings with LSCHP and dev tomorrow. Back up to Siberia early Thursday.

P. S. The last few years, we have had a few onesy-twosy trillium plants in the woods behind The Landfill. Hello. Here is a BUNCH of trillium! A good omen? Man oh man, I hope.

In which actually going to work provides a bit of vacation

Monday, May 9th, 2011

It felt sooooo good today to drive over to the building where my actual loverly dog-poopy cube is located. I parked in *my* parking space. I had a moment of panic as I approached the door. Did I remember the keycode I’ve been entering for almost four years now to get into this place? Well, of course I did but it turned out that I didn’t need to enter it at that moment because Broosie was going in just ahead of me and I got in on his nickel. I also got a weather report and some gas price predictions.

I spent a lot of time “holding court” (as the long suffering, cat herding person termed it) this morning. The folks I work with are all around my age and most of them have been through this stuff already. I’m a “baby” in that sense, thanks to some pretty dern good DNA on both sides of the fambly. That stuff is expensive, don’tcha know… 😉 So my co-workers were all very supportive about this. The UBoss came by to ask how my telecommuting experience had been going. Did I need anything? I was happy to report that I felt very successful connecting to both the internet and the vpn and I thanked him profusely for the fact that my company makes it so easy for its employees to telecommute when they need to. As much of a nerd as I am, I am pretty flabbergasted that I can do this and that my company is supportive of it.

It was wonderful to be in my cube again but I did find myself missing people like Juanita and Mumma wandering through the long term care solarium as I was working. They did not disrupt my work at all. They are in their own worlds, gently searching for whatever it is that they need. I missed the dern three o’clock snack today. Ponytail and his cronies pass out snacks at certain times of the day and if I am in the right place at the right time, I get one too! 🙂 Today, I managed to scrabble together a bag lunch but I did not have a three o’clock snack. So, guess who kept nodding off at around that time!

Came home (home home home). Walked to Plum Market. As I was walking back, NPJane was parking in front of my house. Whine with NpJane in the back yard ensued. Bird and chippie watching and gossip and NPJane is going to Cally for a long-needed vacation. I am envious… And cuzzints make the world go ’round, don’tcha know?

One loverly Sunday in May

Sunday, May 8th, 2011

Mother’s Day, Shmother’s Day. I guess I didn’t exactly forget that today was a greeting card holiday. (Actually, *is* it a greeting card holiday? Maybe not, exactly, too lazy to google.) My fav-o-rite way to “celebrate” Mother’s Day in recent years is to get up ultra-early and truck on down to Magee Marsh for the annual northward warbler migration. I am not a birder myself but I love nature in general and being outdoors walking around (or skiing or kayaking or whatever). The GG is, in fact, a relatively serious birder and birding is one of his hobbies that I can actually participate in, at least in a peripheral way. The hobby he engaged in out at the moomincabin yesterday? Well, I went down to the beach with a glass of whine and plugged my ears for the duration.

I didn’t get to do Magee Marsh today. What did I do today? Today, I drove the I75 SUV Speedway in a southbound direction. It was all good until I got to the I96/US23 interchange. Huge backup. I was at a dead standstill long enough to check out the situation on my phone. Did not look good. I hung a louie onto I96, headed over to South Lyon and on down Pontiac Trail. Not a particularly fast route down to The Planet Ann Arbor but I was at least moving. When I wasn’t stuck at one of the interminable stop lights. Y’all? Can you just stop driving so I can have the road to myself? (Just kidding, of course!) Also… Note to self. It is now high construction season. If you are driving up on a Friday or down on a Sunday, take the Lansing route!!!

Mouse did not have either work or rehearsal today, so we were plotting a mid-afternoon lunch somewhere. As I pulled into the Landfill driveway, she called and we decided that, rather than try to deal with downtown on a beautiful, sunny, warm Mother’s Day, I would pick up take-out food from Panera and a bottle of whine and we would eat on her balcony. I had not seen her new apartment yet, so that is what we did. And then we went shopping at Cost Plus World Market, where we scouted out some possible furnishings for her new apartment.

It was at Cost Plus that I absolutely hit the wall. I mean the wall of exhaustion. I was actually almost sort of wondering if I would be able to drive home without falling asleep. I did manage to do that but, you guys, every time I manage to get down here, I just crash. (I am here because I have a presentation-type thing to do at work Tuesday and I do *not* want to do it via the iPhone! Also, I neeeeeeed to connect face-to-face with my beloved fellow team members!) I do not know how long I can manage this nomadic style of life. I guess I can manage it as long as I need to. I long for the day I can buy enough grokkeries to last more than 36 hours. When can I hang out cooking/blahgging in my own horribly ugly chitchen? When can I spend a couple days *here* in the Landfill cleaning the place up? I feel like I don’t live anywhere these days. (Er, don’t take me tooooo seriously. We *will* get through this. It’s my blahg and I can kvetch if I want to.)

Anyway. I have never been big into the whole Mother’s Day kinds of celebrations. I have a picture in my mind of “mom” with her fancy permed and dyed hair, dressed up in a beautiful (and probably uncomfortable) pastel suit with a corsage pinned to her lapel. Cards and gifts and a buffet dinner somewhere. I am not into that stuff. I am standing here in my tie-dyed tshirt, shorts, and bare feet with my hair tied back. I am cooking risotto on my own loverly old 3-burner stove. Yes, it’s late. I ate lunch late and then I had to claw my way back up from that huge sinking spell I had this afternoon.

Enough! Happy Mother’s Day to all who do observe it. I include all caregivers in this. As far as I’m concerned, every day is Mother’s Day!

P.S. Ooookkkaaaayyy. A little disturbance outside the house resulted in the blue birdhouse being knocked down. When I went out to investigate, some four-footed beastie was beating a hasty retreat into the back yard. Birdhouse does *not* seem occupied. Cat? Or Rocky Raccoon, trying to get into the nearby Planet A-squared garbage cart?

I *would* choose a horse that leaves in an ambulance

Saturday, May 7th, 2011

Wouldn’t you know, the horse I picked (Archarcharch) was the horse that was put into a horse ambulance after the Derby. I don’t really know a dern thing about horse racing but somewhere along the line, the GG and I began a tradition of watching the Kentucky Derby every year. We used to do mint juleps but I really don’t like them, at least not the version that the GG would make. They involved making what he called a “slurry” of mint / sugar syrup. Only an engineer would make a drink with a slurry. I finally decided that I didn’t really like mint juleps, at least not that version of them, so we just do a regular manhattan now. We don’t bet. I pick horses by the name I like the best. Some years the names are really boring but this year I had a tough time choosing, mostly because I couldn’t seem to easily google up a simple list of horse names. The Comm picked Brilliant Speed and The GG picked Pants on the Ground or whatever.

Here’s the good news. Lunch today. We walked with The Commander from the long term care to Penny’s Kitchen (and back) for lunch. She is using a four-wheeled walker these days but she managed that trip (about three blocks one way) with absolutely NO PROBLEM! One of her former physical therapists suggested that trip to me and helped me plan the route. I am very impressed by the progress The Commander has made with her PT / OT therapy and I am very thankful for the absolutely fabulous care she has received at the small-town hospital here in Sault Ste. Siberia.

And then. We picked The Comm up for a late afternoon visit to her own loverly home, known as the Squatter’s Paradise in recent weeks. She was at the ready with a hand-written list of things to do at Command Central and she puttered around here for quite some time before the Derby happened and dinner was served. Pork roast, mashed potatoes, and asparagus and I made sure there was a nice leafy green salad. The horspittle does a better job on food than even a few years ago but green salad with anything but iceberg lettuce can be hard to manage for the masses, even the small masses at WMH.

The photooo? That snow there in the lower right is what’s left of last winter’s snowbanks. That was this morning when I drove out to the moomincabin to take a foggy beach walk. When the GG and I went back out there after lunch, the snow had diminished considerably and, a few hours later, it was maybe six inches in diameter.

And now, the mean old grunchie old grinchie is here testing out his new ‘puter. Good night. Rocket trip to A2 tomorrow. Work presentation on Tuesday! 🙂

Is this incoherent? I feel incoherent. I hope Archarcharch is okay. Good night. Again.

21st Century Nomadic Enigma

Friday, May 6th, 2011

Me, that is. I guess… Harold had me absolutely guffawing this morning when he told me that when he first met me, he had me pegged as a music or art history professor!!! Apparently, business systems analyst (aka computer nerd) didn’t immediately enter his mind. Was it my shaggy unruly hair? (It is *not* shaggy, not after the fancy cut I got from the goddess Vonda. But… Without Vonda around to style it for me every morning… Well, you know…) Or was it my REI / Chico’s wardrobe, accessorized with wild polartech socks and Chaco sandals? And who knows what he might’ve made of my backpack and the big case I sling over my shoulder as I schlep my work laptop from wifi to wifi.

The funny part about all of this is that I actually am a real live classically trained flute player, a pretty good one, or at least I used to be when I actually took the dern thing out of its case once in a while. So Harold was really not all that far off with the music prof thing because I probably could have ended up being just that. When I got out of college I did not have the *foggiest* idea of how to begin a music career. The two things I could think of to do were to audition for orchestral jobs or hang out my shingle to teach flute students. Problem. I didn’t really want to be a career orchestral player (not to mention that it is exceedingly difficult to get one of those jobs no matter how “good” you are). And believe me, you and your children are much better off without me as a teacher.

So I ended up with a computer-type job. My first job was at the rock-bottom rung of the ladder. In the early months when I (admittedly) had no idea what the heck I was doing, I endured all manner of gender discrimination, a fair amount of sexual harassment, and more than a bit of garden variety catty-ness from other women who needed to find better things to do with their time. It was hard at first but I got totally hooked on computer work and I have a good work ethic and so I slowly but surely managed to worm my way into becoming a respected member of the team.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. It’s late and we took The Commander out to dinner at Ang-Gio’s tonight and I’m taaarrrrred. Just that I kind of enjoy being one of those people that are a little hard to figger on first impression. The Comm is a bit like that too, come to think of it. And I also think that if you are a creative, both-brained, out of the box thinker with so many interests that you can’t just choose one (!!!) it almost doesn’t matter what college degree you get. If you have what some people might refer to as an artsy-fartsy degree, you may struggle a bit to make a living when you first graduate. Unfortunately, there are many people who won’t take you seriously. Especially if you are young, thin, and blonde. Trust me. I know. But don’t give up. Your skills are just as important to the world as those who have known exactly what they wanted to do with their lives since they were three. In the long run, you will be successful. Please don’t give up!

And so, another incomprehensible download from the overstuffed brain of KW ends. Good night. It’s the Kentucky Derby tomorrow! What horse are you going to choose? Do you have your mint slurry ready for your julep? Do you know where your fancy hat is?

I’m really okay, just a little ragged around the edges

Thursday, May 5th, 2011

If you are female and have carried biological children to term or thereabouts, you may recognize that feeling. It always hit me in about the 8th or 9th month. I dealt with it by thinking through… “At some point this will be over. Lemme see, the baby is due in late October. By Thanksgiving she’ll be born.” (Actually, I didn’t really know that that particular baby would be a she. I had a hunch but there was no ultrasound or anything.)

I’m feeling a little like that now. Ragged around the edges. Life could be a lot worse. The hardest thing is that there is still no defined timeline. It hits me in the odd little moments of repetition. Every time I hit the button on The Comm’s garage door opener. Every time I hit the button that TURNS OFF the DAMN getchyer oil changed light on the Ninja. There is NO Honda dealer up here!!! Fer kee-reist, whaddya want me to do? EVERY time I ride the elevator up one floor to the long term care rehab. What will I find there this time? Will I interrupt another Shakey Start or will The Comm be in the dining room actually standing there watching the bingo game, like she was last night? I was floored! The Comm is an “intellectual”. She does NOT play bingo! More likely I will find her reading some erudite article about terrorists. We *will* have more Shakey Starts. This stuff is not for sissies, as they say. But it *must* be lived through and I am doing my best to think *through* to the next reality. The brave new world. I dare say that, with a little less stubbornness, we would not be enduring this interim period because we would already be *in* the brave new world. On the other hand, with a little less stubbornness, The Comm might not be making the kind of progress she is making with rehab. There are many, many people who don’t, and my dad was one of them (but of course, his problems were different too).

“What can I do to help?” People always ask. Well. 1) Beeeee meeeee (i.e., take care of all of this stuff *for* me). 2) Clone meeeeee (so I can be five places at once). 3) Wave your magic wand and make a nice one-bedroom apartment open up at Freighter View, oh, about yesterday. I’m really, really, really not being snarky. It’s just that there isn’t much anyone can do. If you have ever been in this kind of position with a feisty old parent like The Comm, you know exactly what I mean. And, actually, those of you who know The Comm are already helping a lot. You are visiting! And calling. And sending cards. And skunk cabbage mittens. And dropping off fancy chocolate candy. (Not toooo much of that stuff, please. *I* don’t need it!) And dropping drywall dust all over everything so the GG has something to vacuum when he’s here. And listening to me vent when I need to. THANK YOU!!!!

P.S. My fav-o-rite part of today? Probably when I slodged down there in the late afternoon. I am not the best conversationalist from the getgo and we were both tired, so I played Angry Birds on my phone while The Comm watched. I am *terrible* at Angry Birds and she got a huge charge out of watching me constantly lose!

Faaaarrrr drill

Wednesday, May 4th, 2011

On all fronts. Things were a little shaky this morning as our brave new reality began to settle in and that’s about all I’m gonna say about that except that life is like a river, there are plenty of high and low points along the way, and I am gonna do my best not to get my underwear up in a bunch. I am gonna think *through* to the future!

Meanwhile, back at the, uh, Landfill… I could not even process exactly what was going on down at the Landfill this morning. The phrase “gas leak” was bandied about. And “yard all torn up”. And “digging a big hole down beside the basement wall”. Like the one the [unknown] gas-company-type person in the pic is trying to avoid falling into. Or something. I do not know. I said, “You take care of it.” I could not process it. Did I already say that? (Er, as long as we have that big hole there, maybe we can take care of the goddamn leak behind the dryer? The *water* leak, that is. Yes?)

The other thing that is going on at the Landfill is that our “renter” has obtained new quarters across town. A nice apartment with a theatre buddy. We’ve been doing the empty nest thing off and on for a number of years. I guess we are back to it now. I will like having my house to myself. I think it is a positive thing for adult children to live on their own. But I will miss my Mouse. I wanted to be around when she moved. Oh, not because she needs any help from the likes of me. I just needed a chance to flap my wings.

So this morning, after the shaky start, Harold came along. He and The Commander got down to business and I sensed that things would soon be looking up, at least for the time being. So I dropped off some paperwork at Future Command Central and headed up to the Squatter’s Paradise to throw a load of laundry in. I was planning to head back down to the temporary quarters but the Long Suffering Cat Herding Person (who has been more or less MIA all week) suddenly appeared out of thin air. I mean that he was on Instant Messenger, not that he apparated into the living room here. “Can you do this and that, yada yada? Can you do it by EOD?” Yes, sir! Magee, sir! (I didn’t really say “Magee, sir!”)

By the time I got back down to the temporary quarters, a soap opera was going on in and around The Commander’s room. I do not know the details, nor would I report them on the internet if I did but it all had something to do with her roommate’s impending departure from the facility. Don’t worry, The Indomitable Mona walked out on her own two feet. We are going to miss her a lot. I think *everybody* down there will. About all I’ve got to say is, “You go, girl!”

Well. I had finished the immediate stuff that the LSCHP needed but I am not short on things to do at my job, so I schlepped on down to the Solarium to plug in. After a couple hours of that, I took a peek into The Commander’s room. Mona was gone and The Comm was sound asleep.

Packed up and left and have spent the rest of the day trying to decompress. I dunno know how many more days like this particular one I can handle!

Brave New Worlds for Brave New Girls

Tuesday, May 3rd, 2011

Yes. The girls in the family(ies) I belong to are rocking it in every direction today. About the only rocking I personally managed to do was to remember to get the dern garbage out this morning. Oh yeah. There was also the time that I finally got taaarrred of waiting for the assisted living facility to call *me* with our status on the wait list (they were supposed to call today, I thought). I am telephonically challenged (as you know) but I screwed up my courage and called *them*. I waited a while longer for a return call and, well, we are number five. I am hoping it goes quickly. I am told it usually does. But with my luck…

Anyway, I visited the facility on my way back to Squatter’s Paradise and I am more than convinced that it will happen *and* it will be the right place to establish Command Central in the future (although The Comm and Mona are certainly rocking the long term care). For one thing… I was standing at the desk at Freighter View waiting for the manager to come out and talk to me when a woman with a very familiar face came wheeling along in a motorized chair. Mrs. B. Mrs. B was the moom of one of my best friends throughout my childhood. I’m not going to go into all of those memories now but I will say that one of the reasons her daughter and I were good friends is because The Commander and Mrs. B were already good friends before we were born. Mrs. B did not drive back in those days and, more often than not, The Commander would drive me and her daughter wherever it was we needed to go. Mrs. B eventually learned how to drive after her husband died. Neither one of those women drive any more. Mrs. B has been joshing The Comm about moving down to Freighter View for a number of years. This year, the answer is “yes”. I am wondering what the gossip at dinner was like tonight [insert devilish grin here].

What else? How is KW doing? Well. She has been able to telecommute to work quite successfully but she misses her loverly old dog-poopy cube. She often gets taaarrrred about the continuous loop of parking down at the horspittle, taking the elevator to the long-term care and whatever. It isn’t hard to do, it’s just sort of like, “Oh, I am here again. What will I find?” KW cheerfully greets everyone she meets there, whether they know who the heck she is or not. She has found an absolutely wonderful support system up here in the Great Not-so-white North. In some ways, she misses her significant other but she also values the autonomy that squatting here at the Squatter’s Paradise affords (and the GG will be here Thursday anyway). KW can see through to the next stage. Which is a new Command Center with satellites up here at the Squatter’s Paradise and, of course, at the moominbeach. We will get there sooner or later, hopefully sooner.

Not sure if that last paragraph made sense. We are moving forward. That is about all. I love all of you and I thank all of you for supporting my vision for the next phase of Command Central.

Ding Dong.

Monday, May 2nd, 2011

When I got down to Command Central this morning, The Commander and Mona were standing agape in front of Mona’s boob tube. They peppered me with questions! (yes, Beach Urchins, I stole that phrase directly outta the Anne of Green Gables videos!) Is Bin Laden really dead? Did “we” kill him? Did we bomb him? Which branch of the service did it? There are plenty of people down there at Command Central who couldn’t care less about Osama Bin Laden (although most of them probably did ten years ago). The Commander and Mona are not among them. This was news to them and they were *on* it. They had gone to bed by the time I got the news last night. I got it via Twitter. That’s actually where I get most of my news these days (besides National Petroleum Radio, that is) but that’s a whole long boring story.

So the witch HMFWIC of Al Qaeda is dead. (I totally stole the “witch is dead” analogy from them thar tubes.) I dunno. I do not want to minimize the feelings of anyone who lost a family member in the attacks of September 11, 2001. I think MOST of us were absolutely terrified after that event. I know I was and there is a part of me who is glad he is dead. But now that I look back, I wonder how much influence Osama and Al Qaeda have had in recent years. Yes, we have had some terrifying near-misses. The Underwear Bomber landed at Daytwa Metro a couple days before Lizard Breath was scheduled to fly outta there. And I have work friends from the Indian subcontinent who probably travel that flight when returning from visits home. (Wonder what the Underwear Bomber’s reality is these days, since I *believe* — but could be wrong — that all of his legal crap is happening in the crumbling old Motor City.)

Still. What *is* next? Will there be a new Osama Bin Laden? I’m not sure that there will be, at least not someone who will have the “vision” of Osama. And I am not sure he had that in the last years of his life. Or maybe he did but couldn’t make it happen. What about this new generation? What about the young (and not-so-young) folks in Islamic countries who are sick to death of living their lives under corrupt dictators or rabidly fundamentalist mullahs and imams et al (am I making sense?) who proclaim “I veeelll declare jeeeehad!” at every perceived insult? I can only imagine how much the Jurassic Age version of Kayak Woman would’ve chafed if some Methodist minister had tried to tell her how to organize her life!

I have lost my train of thought, which is typical when I try to talk about politics or world events, because I see all of this stuff in RGB, not B/W. It doesn’t matter though, because I have more questions than answers. I wonder what’s next, both for the Islamic / Arab world and for our own country — with the three wars (count ’em, The Comm and Mona are) we are now involved in. I don’t know.

I know that a lot of people are celebrating Osama’s death. And that is okay. I guess I am too… I just hope that all of us who may have whooped it up about Obama’s “victory” over Osama will go forth in the world thinking about how to make it a better place and not just settle back in to watching reality TV and/or reading gossip magazines and/or spending Sunday afternoon at Woldemort. If we all paid more attention to what’s going on in the world (like The Commander and Mona and the majority of my five readers), maybe we would not get ourselves into the morass of debt and problems and wars that our country is currently in. I recommend starting with your own city or township or whatever council. What the heck are those folks doing with your money? You may be surprised.

But I’m just a baggy old kayak woman, so whaddoo I know?

Love y’all, KW

P. S. I am already as sick of the whole “Is Osama really dead, do we have evidence?” as I have always been about the derned birther crap. Sorry but don’t some of these people have something better to do? Fer kee-reist!

Roulette

Sunday, May 1st, 2011

It is Sunday and I don’t have a whole lot to say for myself today. Worked from Squatter’s Paradise, in and out of the rehab, a walk down to the locks and then, out to the beach to walk and have a belated Easter dinner at Jeep and Pan’s.

Walk the beach? Yeah. Just *try* to walk the beach. I did manage to, somehow. When I got down to the end and turned around, well, you know, I was trying to walk *back*. The raging southwest wind had some different ideas. I persisted, slodging back along the beach through blowing sand toward the other end, where the wind dropped to almost nothing in the lee of the point.

There is actually something decent on the blasted boob tube tonight. I am reduced to watching one channel here. Why? Because the remote control device has got to be the most UN-user-friendly device I have ever used. Fortunately the thing is tuned to an old movie channel but some nights are better than others. Tonight? Nicholas Nickleby. Some old version of it. I read it once. I can remember the general arc of the story. Good boy perseveres through all manner of horrible circumstances to win in the end. Typical Dickens stuff. The details (except for Mr. Squeers, I could never forget that name) are largely lost to the cobwebbed areas of my brain.

What’s next? We wait. For discharge. For our number to come up at the new digs. With luck, those two things will not occur with too many days in between them. Wish us luck.

I am missing the Planet Ann Arbor Farmer’s Market and the spring flowers in my little woods (trillium & jack-in-the-pulpit) and my loverly, dog-poopy cube. And I will miss what has become our “Mother’s Day” trip to the warbler migration at Magee Marsh next weekend. That is all.

Good night,
Kayak Woman

P.S. Well, someone has “droven” in. And it is the mean old grunchie old grinch.