Monday, June 3, 2013


Nasturtiums digging life.
June 3rd, 2:30 a.m.

At 5:00 p.m., I was so tired I could barely speak English or keep my head off of the kitchen table during dinner. It's now 2:08 a.m. and I could watch Episode 3 of Borgen. I don't get it. Was I, am I supposed to go to bed when I am sleepy? I was afraid to take a nap because it might keep me up. And here I am anyway.

Just sayin'.

June 3rd, 1:57 p.m.

Well, finally fell asleep but was woken by multiple calls to my telephones before 9, so sleeping in was out. That's bound to make me a little bit cranky.

I spend almost every night thinking about death, thinking about losing my mom and Cooder. Every. Day. I finally decided to take Cooder in and get her checked out. I know I have been talking about this for months, but she has taken to sleeping under the bed quite a bit. As I might have mentioned a couple of days ago, this could be due to the heat. She still eats and comes downstairs every day. I mean, it could be something that is  treatable, that will help her be more comfortable. And I have dilly-dallied long enough, worrying about that, too. So we are going to the vet in an hour. Just do it.

But I am almost in tears. Is that due to exhaustion? 

June 3rd, 6:53 p.m.

I swear someone in this neighborhood gets off work and then either rides around on his power mower from 5:00 or until dark, or he is a recreational chainsawer. I realize not everyone is as sensitive to this kind of noise as I am. After all, the noise of air conditioning is one reason I eschew it in most situations. But seriously, what the fuck could this person be doing every night for several hours? Non.Stop.

Okay, well, whew. Off for a while. 

I tried napping but could only doze. Hopefully, I got enough rest to not be a danger to myself or others.

The news from the vet was encouraging. Cooder has only lost a few ounces, nothing to be particularly concerned about. No masses or anything (there that engine goes again) so no obvious signs of cancer. They did an x-ray, which I had to say was pretty cool, having never seen a pet x-ray before, and that all looked pretty good for a kitteh her age. She has some arthritis in her lower spine, but nothing crazy. They did some more blood work which is hella-expensive, so we will see how things have changed in six months. But nothing obvious. So $350-dollars-I-don't-have-later, I can chill out a little bit.

The night was very still, and on such nights, when the traffic thins away, the walker becomes conscious of the moon in the street, as if the curtains of the sky had been drawn apart, and the heavens lay bare, as it does in the country. — Virginia Woolf, Night and Day

9:29 p.m.

Almost a respectable bed time. I am a mini-mess today. Sometimes I miss Carl (my brother so much). I was just watching this Emmylou Harris clip and remembering how Carl hipped me to Vince Gill being a good musician and how I wish I could talk to him about this. And how Carl was with us, though much younger, when we first saw Emmylou before her first record came out at the Long Beach Bluegrass Festival. I met Jerry Garcia there, for the first of a couple of times, as he was playing with the Great American String Band, a short-lived band that included Vassar Clements, David Grisman, and Taj Mahal.

In other news, I was able to coax Cooder out from under the bed and she is in her appropriate place on my pillows. It might be cool enough for some cuddling and purring, which my soul could use. As I watch Episode 3 of Borgen, she is snoring. I am smiling.

Peony in the sun.

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