MIRACLE THAT IT IS

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I can't even believe I have the will to write anything, stuck as I am in some mash-up of the opening Martin Sheen scenes in Apocalypse Now and the entirety of Groundhog Day. David is convinced that he will never get home again, much less out of this apartment. Janet repeatedly says she is in hell. I stumble along being stunned and sad and generally overwhelmed at the wreckage of lives.

I had to throw away so many pictures and make so many judgment calls on family stuff. But most of it isn't my side of the family.And that is kind of a creepy feeling. Do I save my sister's wedding book for her granddaughter? Her baby book? Well, I say yes. Let them throw it away. I also found a cache of letters from my father to his first wife, Carole's mother, Carmen, while he was away at war. 

In the good news department, I am excited because I made myself a pallet on the floor of Anita's apartment and get to sleep many feet away from David and Janet. We are crashing here because we didn't think we would still be here and all the hotels in Salt Lake City are full for Pioneer Days. 

I am hoping to get out of here tomorrow and to drive to St. George, Utah, which is about halfway back to LA. I plan to make one more trip to the Goodwill and then pack the car and be on my way.

Fireworks here for Pioneer Days.

Janet is driving both of us crazy.

I just took my sleeping pills.

If I had a book, maybe I could read which I have done exactly none of in weeks.

Miracle that it is that I could post at all, I leave you with a good night.

I NEED TO EMBRACE THAT

 83 of 100daychallenge

Hard to believe I am still here.

We all reached our limit today. I just couldn't throw away another scrapbooking project, journal, or photograph that maybe once held meaning for Anita. Still did not find any significant papers like pink slips, but came across her birth certificate, as well as my sister's confirmation picture. 

David is out walking. Janet is in the bathroom. I am drinking a can of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Not a cornucopia of beer choices as in wet states. The Olympics Opening Ceremonies are blaring behind me.

I am not looking forward to that long drive with Janet. Maybe I will try to listen to Ulysses. I feel far out of whack. 

The beer tastes good.

We are all weary. David is getting a good dose of what it is to take care of Janet. I feel as if I will fall into bed at home and not get up for days, although that is not likely either. The cats escaped from the house and Christina C has not been able to herd them back into the house. I almost don't care. Nina may spend two days outside. Hope she does not get eaten. 

I ate half a gummy with David and we drove up to the mountains, to Park City. I chewed off my fingernails. The music was good and the scenery was very pretty. I tried to imagine Park City during the Sundance Festival. Overwhelming. Maybe fun if you are rich or on a good expense account.

We have to leave this weird motel tomorrow as Janet and I are staying one more day, leaving Sunday morning. We are going to crash at Anita's which will be weird. Given that it is a Mormon holiday, Pioneer Days, there are no hotel rooms in town. 

I am surprised I like Salt Lake City as much as I do. Were I a different kind of person, I could see making a life here. I am sure the conservatism would get to me were I unilaterally exposed to it, but our contact with natives has been limited.

So tomorrow is the last big push. The place is still a disaster area, but something a professional crew can knock off in a day. We have just lost our will. And then I will have the pleasure of becoming an ebay/etsy seller again. I need to embrace that. 

And other things.

KIND OF IT

 82 of #100daychallenge

Just another day in paradise. We continue to exist in this weird room. Thinking and writing are a bit prohibited with lack of privacy and the tv going. Plus, there is the will do to it, which is not very strong. 

We are making progress on the apartment and maybe getting down to the end. David has to be here until Monday in order to pick up his car. I figured we should hang around until Sunday to keep him company as he has been so supportive and helpful. We didn't find anything amazing. It was just breaking down boxes, sorting Christmas decorations, swearing about the heat, and being in awe of a person's belongings. 

The cortisone has worn off and my knee is back to hurting quite a bit.

I visited the folks I am leaving Katie Mae, the kitty with. They are smitten and I think she will be better off being an only cat. I don't think she would like the trip back to Los Angeles and then be confronted with five attention-starved kitties. 

That's really kind of it.

ALL THE COMFORT I CAN GET

 81 of #100daychallenge

Wednesday, 6:36

We end up going to bed early, probably to escape one another in this small room. (Why didn't I look into AirB&B?) And why do I have Yakety-Yak in my head this morning? I am trying to boil water on a hot plate. I have my doubts that I will get any espresso in the room this morning. (It worked.)

Mom is still trying to sleep. She and David had tough nights. David had a nightmare or something, crying out. He has significant neuropathy as a result of a bad case of shingles and often can't sleep. Mom coughed for a long time. Fortunately, David had shared half of a gummy, so I did okay in the deep sleep department.

And so begins another day.

That evening. 7:00 p.m.

Anita had a caregiver named Tim. Tim had access to the apartment. When we got there on Monday, her cell phone, wallet, purse, laptop, cameras, and 60" tv had been stolen. Tim has come around a few times and all of us agree he is a shady character. He immediately started taking things like a Miele vacuum cleaner and a lot of medical equipment. David and I feel as if we have to nail things down so Tim doesn't suck them up. Very creepy. I reported the burglary today. 

Here we are, all three, in our little room passing the evening. Rachel Maddow is on. David is curled on his bed, thinking about an evening shower. Janet is between dozing and watching the news. It is very muggy and we expect a short storm. 

I can't remember what I said about this motel room, but the sleazy polyester bedspreads are rife with tiny (cigarette?) holes. I brought some cotton sheets from Anita's house to make the bed a bit cozier, for me at least. You have to take your dirty towels to the front and hope there are clean towels for them to give you. The man at the front desk is very very surly. The bathroom has neither towel racks, a toilet seat that closes, nor a fan. It's the little things, kids.

Anita's car needed $1500 of work to get it road worthy for David. This weekend is the big Utah holiday, Pioneer Days, so his car might not be done until Monday. We took four big loads of stuff to the Goodwill today, but there is still a lot of work to do. I figured out that the Chevy Traverse I rented will take 24 bankers boxes of Anita had one room that was just full of boxes from her move last March (2020). The layers in there include my sister's pictures from high school and her ashes. Decisions, decisions.

David and I have both sworn to get out shit together when we get home. We have found nary a piece of official paperwork for Anita and we could really use that pink slip. Something were organized, but the organization stopped a couple of years ago.

I wish I could find a place to read. I have my earBuds in just to dim the noise of MSNBC. Now I have some Aretha going on, but I really need to return some 'phone calls and listen to messages.

I am drinking beer here.

Still feels as if the world is falling apart, what with more climate change disasters, round two of the pandemic, and the usual ridiculous DC posturing. Makes me glad I went to the trouble of getting this bed here more comfortable as I need all the comfort I can get.

SLEEP AND FOCUS

 80 of #100daychallenge

Well, we made it through another day. This one was a little more positive. We called to get new keys for the Camry, got it started, and dropped it off at a car repair place around the corner. I took two loads of stuff to the Goodwill.  

Being with David and my mom ALL THE TIME is a bit weird. I am even sharing a bed with Janet, so there is really no space. I took some time for myself to go sit outside in the little rose garden at this complex to call KH and Rebecca, who was one of Anita's caregivers and who I think I am going to give the kitty to. I really want to take Katie, but I think she will be happier here being an only kitty with doting parents. 

There is still a lot to do and I need to get some sleep and focus.

We had a great breakfast.

It is pretty here, what with the Wasatch Mountains all around.

OVERWHELMED

 79 of #100daychallenge

Murray, Utah

We made it through the night. Janet and David had a hard time sleeping, but I just cruised right along. David and I woke up before 7, promptly going on a reconnaissance mission for decent coffee (found) and a maple bar for Janet. Turns out Salt Lake is a low doughnut zone. We had to drive far away to even find some, and then, lackluster. And when we got back to the room, Janet, who frequently demands a maple bar, said she wanted a plain one.

David took Janet out for a little walk before we get going for the day. Our first stop, after breakfast, will be the apartment management office to get keys to Anita's apartment. Stay tuned for an emotional day.

Worse than emotional. Anita's apartment was quite literally a shit show. There were dirty diapers under her bed (in the living room), in the chair she lived and slept in, sick room detritus everywhere. Stacks of adult diapers and wipes in packages. Boxes of bottled water. Rotting food. Chaos. 

The reality of Anita's life is overwhelming, not to mention the amount of junk and stuff. We are all fried. So this will be short. Not to mention the motel we are staying in is so cheap they don't have a fan in the bathroom, not even a soap dish or a glass to rinse after brushing. I am a bit tired of being so up close and personal with my mother who repeatedly asks when we are going home, among other things. 

I am going to bed. 

IF I LET MYSELF

 78 of #100daychallenge

7:33 a.m.

The cats are not happy. It is too hot to eat wet food and I am neither opening the windows for maximal viewing nor, worse yet, letting them out. We are not quite ready to go, but all making progress. Gotta go check on Janet's oatmeal.

Well, we won't make our 8 am projected departure, but we will likely get out of here within the hour. Janet is ensconced in front of the tube eating oatmeal and drinking her coffee. I still have to shower, make my bed, do the dishes, and finish loading the car. and then we are off.

Dishes done. I am flagging.

9:00 am ... signing off until Winnemucca! Wish us luck.

Winnemucca achieved. We got here just after midnight. It was a long day. The motel is just this side of acceptable, but David gave me a gummie and I completely nodded out, even sharing a bed with Janet who wakes up quite a bit.

On to Salt Lake today. More from there.

8:43 p.m.

Here is Murray, Utah. A shorter long drive today. The three of us all ate Gummies, and were, therefore stoned. I don't recommend getting high with your 94-year old mother who is working on being deaf. Everything was creative hearing with her when she could hear, now it is very frustrating.

Janet feels so very fragile. I feel a little bad for dragging her along. I was tired last night after 10 or more hours of driving and worrying that she was going to die in the bed next to me. She lived. She is unhappy we brought her. 

It was fun listening to music with David, while high. When was the last time that happened? Selections included Hot Tuna live, Waiting for Columbus, Maria Muldaur, and Ry Cooder. I was tempted to plug in Cocaine and Rhinestones and get him hooked.

We had the perfect road trip breakfast here today:

These were the chairs: 

If I let myself think about it, I would be pretty weirded out by our task tomorrow. But lots of thinking when high is a bad idea, so I will to put that off until I am actually in her space. We drove by where her apartment is and found the Toyota Camry I am giving to David. 

Janet and David are watching tv as I sit in the corner with my earBuds and some John Prine, writing. I thought I brought along a book of poetry, but it doesn't seem to be with my goods, so I will have to do without for the moment. 

HEY, IT IS

 76 of #100daychallenge

Gosh, getting out of bed early can mess with your lamented productivity in a good way. It's almost 9 and I have already stripped the bed and have the linens in the wash, taken care of a puking and dehydrated Janet, and am now on hold as I try to resolve the various health appointments we both have. 

Later.

Taking a break from getting organized and cleaned up. I find things that I was planning to send to Anita, both physical and digital. I think I cannot entirely wrap my head around the all of it. I will likely fall apart when I get to Utah. See, I would have sent her this list of Wes Anderson's favorite/recommended films and we would have had a discussion about it.

Janet woke up and threw up which is worrisome. I think she might be dehydrated as she is quite resistant to drinking enough water. She thinks coffee is a good substitute, notwithstanding that we repeatedly tell her coffee is a diuretic, leading toward dehydration. I am a bit concerned about taking her into the heat that is supposed to hit this weekend. We will mostly be in an air-conditioned car, but still.

Off to clean the bathroom.

Later, cleaned bathroom.

It's very hot back here in the afternoon. I am kind of waiting for the sun to go down so that I can get productive again. I did go out and give the plants a good watering. While I was at it, I accidentally killed a stalk of the dinnerplate dahlia that had begun to blossom so there's a good 5 weeks of plant growth gone through my carelessness. I also managed to break a piece of Corning Ware and cut my finger, so let's hope I get all of my clumsiness out of here before I get into the car.

I still have packing to do.

I need to clean the kitchen floor. 

Well, it is getting along to quittin' time. Most of the packing is done. The kitchen floor is clean. The behemoth vehicle has been acquired and the loading process has begun. I will check my list again tomorrow. I took extra sleeping pills and think I will hit the shower tonight as I just washed and line dried my sheets.

I miss Anita.

Janet vehemently does not want to go. She wants to know why she can't stay by herself or why no one can come and stay with her. This adds to my sadness and stress. 

I feel far out of my comfort zone, as if the world were on edge, which, hey, it is. 

BEFORE ATTEMPTING FLIGHT AGAIN

 76 of #100daychallenge

Still in LA. Or should I say, "Saigon. Shit. I'm still only in Saigon." You Apocalypse, Now fans will get that reference. 

Turns out that I don't have a valid driver's license at the moment, which makes it dang near impossible to rent a car. So, no go on the SUV rental and hence no travel yet. Although I did renew on-line, I need one of those pieces of paper with the state seal. So it is off to stand in a DMV line in the morning and a take two on rental. Of course, I found this out after Patrick had dropped me off the airport rental counter. After a couple of protestations, I quickly 'phoned Patrick, who was not far away. David and I ran through a couple of iterations, but decided the easiest and most organized was to just push the departure. 

I did nothing with my free day but sit around doing needlepoint and watch Workin' Moms. 

Yesterday, I got together with my cousin Christina to work on our dresses for awhile. Fitting dresses is hard but I think we can figure it out. C seemed ever-so-slightly out of sorts after a fun girls' evening. Progress was made.

Thursday, July 15th

I am not even sure when I wrote that, but I think it was Sunday, so I am running late late late on my challenge here.

Where to begin? Except that I have already begun. For some reason, I have been thinking about White Christmas this morning and have the number The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing in my head.

Later that same day, but getting close to the end.

So, there were problems renting a car because I didn't have enough space on one credit card. Finally moved around enough money and debt to be able to rent a car which I will do tomorrow night. Then we head out on Saturday morning, picking up my brother David in Los Banos, CA, and heading on to Nevada where we will spend the night. 

A pleasant sidebar to all of this was that my friend D was going to come down to chill at the house and feed the kitties and such. She and I got to hang out for three days and three nights, imbibing and talking late into the night, which we greatly like to do. We also watched Genius: Aretha on Hulu and got into that headspace. All of this was enjoyable. I burned the Atlantic Records Aretha box set for D.

It has been hot and not the kind of comfortable where you want to move beyond a good fan or some AC. My AC is not currently operating so you know where we ended up. 

Tomorrow, my mom has an eye doctor appointment which I ended up not having to cancel, which is to the good. Then pick up the car, pack up, and hit the road.

I miss Anita a lot. I keep seeing things that would amuse her. I was accustomed to texting her throughout the day. I worry about her. She is beyond my reach and worry. 

But her sister did reach out to me, thanking me for taking care of all of this, for retrieving the sentimental pieces and what might pass for family heirlooms. She immediately sent money to defray some of the expenses which took a lot of pressure off of the whole situation. 

R, the person who found Anita and took Katie the kitty into her possession for safekeeping asked me if she might keep her. Inasmuch as I would like to take her, I think it is the better part of sanity to leave Katie in a good home rather than driving her for 14 hours to fend for her place in my current cattery. My stipulations to R were that she send pictures and that she contact me should anything in their situation change. Taking care of Katie was Anita's main wish, and I hope I will be discharging that trust appropriately.

My first figs. 

ONE IN THE HAND

A bird re-entering a bush,

like an idea regaining

its intention, seeks

the missed discoveries

before attempting

flight again.

The small black spirit

tucks in its wings,

softest accordion

whose music is

the perfect landing,

the disappearance

into the dangerous

wintered body

of forsythia. Just as

from time to time

we need to seize again

the whole language

in search of

better desires.

If we could only imagine

a better arc 

of flight; you get

just what you want.

And see how beautiful

an alphabet becomes

when randomness sets in,

like mother tired

after disappointment,

and keeping us

uninformed—the man

walking away whom we

want to recall

and in whom we invest

the whole explanation.

One in the hand,

one in the mind,

but clearly you know

what you have, how clearly

what he’ll want to do, and do

when you let go.

— Jorie Graham, Hybrids of Plants and of Ghosts, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1980

MOMENTS IN OUR LIVES

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NYT: Do you prefer books that reach you emotionally, or intellectually?

Diane Johnson: I’m not sure I can separate the two. Intellectual excitement is an emotion.

I am so pleased to see Diane Johnson call that out. I am hard pressed to make an emotional connection with anyone or anything if there isn't some intellectual excitement of some kind.

 I have decamped to the front porch, which is pleasantly lit, but even with the front door closed, I can well hear the inanity of Family Feud. Somewhere else there is a musical thump thump thump, but it just provides a dull rhythm track to the odious laugh tracks emanating from the house. It may be that I won't find any place of comfort tonight, given the mugginess (although comparatively speaking it is marginal). 

Well, the days of a pain-free knee seem to be over. I should probably limp back into the house for some pain killers and my reading glasses but that would require getting settled here again. Another reason to be outside is to try to corral Nina who is the last cat outside. Every once in awhile, I can hear her meandering about the yard, but other than the above described noises and some airplanes, it is relatively quiet.

The week has been weird, of course. I have spent a lot of it doing needlepoint and watching The Morning Show (AppleTV, recommended). Was this part of the grieving process or just my usual procrastination? The hot spell didn't help much in terms of encouragement from a weather standpoint. And then there is me trying to figure out where to land, or even touch down on Anita's death. I napped. I had gastrointestinal disruptions. I spaced. But I haven't really cried.

Which is not to say that I haven't missed her keenly. We texted all day long, most days, so there was an open ended conversation.

Some of you weren't sure who Anita was. My father, Wally, had a previous marriage with Carmen, and had one offspring, my half-sister Carole. Carole had two daughters, Karen and Anita. Carole married young and was 12 years older than me, so I was actually closer in age to her daughters. Over the years and miles of aisles, I have been very close to both of them.

Karen and Anita were violently estranged. The whys of that are difficult to understand and even harder to untangle. But there were money and expectations involved. The main gist is that Carole's mother's side of the family, the Ber-s, felt that Anita was a poor caregiver to her mother, supporting my sister's dependence on Oxycontin, and somehow awful to her grandmother and step-grandfather. If Karen's hatred of Anita is not yet clear, Karen stopped speaking to me entirely when I started speaking to Anita again. Anita had moved to Utah after the death of her mother and was there all by herself, with not many friends or contacts. I thought it only human to be supportive with the given of isolation. 

Anita moved to Utah because she was LDS and the thought was with the much-lauded LDS close-knit communities, she would be taken care of, one way or another, when her limited money ran out. Turns out, not so much. One of the social workers, who was trying to help Anita at the end, said that the LDS church is much different in Utah, the motherland (or is that fatherland) and that they are not known for their charity and community support. Add that to crummier social services than California and you are in for a big depressing, sad, horrific mess.

I duly let Karen know that her sister had passed, as I did when Anita almost died last summer. Karen has remained completely silent, although Karen's daughter and husband have been in some small contact. Although that side of the family has plenty of money, they won't shell out the $2000k to have Anita cremated, and I don't have it, so I guess the state will dispose of the body. The Ber-s do want some of Carole's jewelry and other artifacts, which I am inclined to pass along in the spirit of healing. But it is costing me and David money we don't really have to drive to Salt Lake City to close her apartment and gather what family artifacts we can.

And, because there is no one at the time, despite the generosity of Debee, and my cousins Christina and Shelly, to take care of Janet, she has to go along too. So, on Sunday morning, Janet and I set off in a rental SUV (how will Janet get in and out?) for Los Banos where we will rendez-vous with David and then three of us will continue to Winnemucca, Nevada on Sunday. Monday, we will head to Salt Lake City and begin to untangle what we can of Anita's life. The cats will have to spend the week in the hot house with daily visits from Shelly or Christina. 

And I am getting Anita's Devon Rex, Katie Mae, who was imported from Russia. I know I don't need another kitty, but knowing Katie was in a safe and forever home was the one thing Anita asked of me. I think I need to honor that wish, given I am not even going to cremate her and spread her ashes.

 I will write from the road if I can, but this seems a legitimate reason to slow my #100daychallenge.

OVER AND OVER STITCH

Late in the season the world digs in, the fat blossoms

hold still for just a moment longer.

Nothing looks satisfied,

but there is no real reason to move on much further:

this isn’t a bad place;

why not pretend

we wished for it?

The bushes have learned to live with their haunches.

The hydrangea is resigned

to its pale and inconclusive utterances.

Towards the end of the season

it is not bad

to have the body. To have experienced joy

as the mere lifting of hunger

is not to have known it

less. The tobacco leaves

don’t mind being removed

to the long racks—all uses are astounding

to the used.

There are moments in our lives which, threaded, give us

     heaven—

noon, for instance, or all the single victories

of gravity, or the kudzu vine,

most delicate of manias,

which has pressed its luck

this far this season.

It shines a gloating green.

Its edges darken with impatience, a kind of wind.

Nothing again will ever be this easy, lives

being snatched up like dripped stitches, the dry stalks of

     daylilies

marking a stillness we can’t keep.

— Jorie Graham, Erosion, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1982

SUCH AN END AS DESTINATION

  74 of #100daychallenge

If you are wondering if this is a weird day for me, the answer would be a resounding yes. I am not entirely sure what to even do. I have spent some time making plans here and there, but nothing is certain except that David and I are going to Salt Lake City in the next day or two. 

I didn't even know where to start. My other brother, Michael, suggested I find something out about probate in Utah. Wouldn't have even crossed my mind as I am more focussed on her kitty and her stuff. As I probably said yesterday, her kitty is fine and safe and being taken care of. 

Options for getting there are being sifted through as are options for Janet care. Or do we just take her with us? KH suggested we rent a nice SUV, I pick up David, and we drive there. Where is Anita's pink slip so that David can get her car? Lots of things to sift through. Does it make sense to go on Friday? And this just in, oil prices are rising. Just in the nick of time. 

I have to go pick up Janet in a hour, so if I am going to try to nap, I needs do it now.

How does it get to be 10:30 already?

I am just kind of numb and in "whaaaaaa?" mode. I did give myself a day to be rather lame brained and just marinate on the all of it. 

Anita was just a few years younger than I am. When she was very young, our families were closer. It seems I have never breathed in a world without her. It is hard not to get her texts or know that she is likely right there at the other end. It is heartbreaking that she died alone. I keep going back to "this can't be real." We still don't have an official cause of death. 

Michael did some research on probate in Utah and laid out some possibilities for moving forward. My sis-in-law Alicia got on the horn with her brother who is a lawyer, albeit in NY to make sure I would not be legally liable for paying for Anita's cremation. I guess her ashes just go to a pauper's grave. 

Not sure what is going to happen with Janet. Either she will come with us or Debee and John will come down to sit her. It is all so very strange. 

McCoy won't come in tonight.

Cats wrangled in. 

LEAVING

Were there such an end as destination

I could say that I was leaving,

could imagine friends gathered on the street below,

cheering maybe, waving maps tied to sticks.

But there isn’t. There is only expansion and contraction

like infinity, or a dime on the sidewalk,

like a letter I found in a corner of the empty room

I am moving out of, a letter I didn’t mail

that begins, “Dear S.—Guilt is the wound that never stops healing:

at time I want to look outside and see my daughter

standing beneath the ash tree and the stars,

a sparkler hissing blue and yellow in her two hands.

But the window is missing, lost,

lying in a field where someone passing

could look down into it and see the faces

rising up through the earth

and sinking back …. “A tiny well-formed cloud

I imagine I have inhaled the sky,

that I grow larger. I imagine that one day

I may grow large enough to fill my body.

T. Crunk, Living in the Resurrection, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1995

LATE BREAKING NEWS

 73 of #100daychallenge

So, here I was, about two hours ago, sitting here feeling pretty chuffed that I had managed to get a post completed in a reasonable fashion. I was about to relax into an hour or so of streaming (Baptiste) when I got a phone call with no id. Normally, I don't answer calls like this, but for some reason, I did. 

It was from the Murray Utah Police telling me that my niece, Anita, had died today.

I am still in shock.

I have just been sitting here, ripping music for Jeanne's wedding, watching Baptiste in a state of unknowing. Will I be able to sleep? Even the sadness has not hit me yet. Anita and I texted every day, sometimes getting in long text streams.

I didn't even go mix a drink although I think the occasion calls for it.

I called my brother David. I think we will be driving to Utah later this week, likely with Janet in tow, if I can find someone to watch the kitties. Anita's surviving sister hated her, so I wrote to Anita's niece and brother-in-law to tell them she had died. 

Anita had a very unhappy life, as did her mother. Generational misery, not because of poverty, but abuse, neglect, and general misguidedness, not to mention oxycontin, although I don't think that is what killed her. I have listed her ailments as best I knew them: lupus, diabetes, some myocardial thing, prolapsed female organs, obesity, edema, cataracts, just to name a few. She was massive depressed (who wouldn't be) and subject to migraines. Being housebound, she had not been able to make actual visits to her doctors and had not seen her cardiologist in over a year.

When her mother died, she took the money she inherited (not much) and moved to Utah as it was cheaper and we all thought she would get support from the Latter Day Saints. Turns out, they weren't so supportive and that she was contemplating leaving the church. She had not been active there pretty much since she moved in 2017 (?). I had been somewhat estranged from her for a few years but re-established contact when my sister died and continued to be in contact while she was getting settled in Utah and beyond. 

Her situation deteriorated over time in Utah and she became increasingly isolated as her health worsened. She almost died a year ago, just when I was about to finish yoga teacher training as I thought I would miss my final. She pulled through, but the year has been nothing but hell.

The rehab facility they put her in was one of those nightmare hellhole places. Even though she was diabetic and ordered to have diabetic meals, she would send me pictures of her meals with cornbread, corn-on-the-cob, mashed potatoes, and fruit punch. I raised a certain amount of hell. Then we got her out of there, but she didn't exactly thrive at home as she needed lots of rehab to get her to be able to walk at all (she could take about three steps with a walker). She had to have people come in to change her diapers a couple of times a day. She had frequent incontinences. She ate crap like tv dinners as she couldn't even get into the kitchen. Hired assistants stole from her. 

According to her, one of these hired people walks on the shady side all the time. But she needed him because he knew how to clean her up and take care of her. She thinks he stole her cat from her and wanted to ransom it. Eventually, they turned it into a shelter and it was returned to her, not in the finest condition. 

She loved her kitty. The worker who bought her groceries found her today. She had been dead for several hours. Rebecca took Katie home for safekeeping. 

Writing this, the sadness begins to creep in. It may be terrible to say, but there is a blessing here. Anita had actually spoken of suicide in the last couple of weeks, although that is not what happened. She knew she wouldn't live long. 

I just didn't know it would be this soon.

Now to bed, perhaps to cry, to figure out how to pay for cremation, what to do with her stuff, what to do with kitties and Mom so that I can go to Salt Lake City with my brother David to settle affairs. Nothing I can do now.

MORNING BARELY BREATHED

 72 of #100daychallenge

It is sheer cat guff when they trick you into feeding them, and they go out and don't come in when called at eventide. Sheer. Cat. Guff. No other way to call it. And Fox is the prince of cat guff as when he does come in, he will want to be all up in my face.

Pleased that there are not as many fireworks tonight as I would have imagined. In other years, they have gone on for days. It is only 8:30 and not quite dark yet, so there is still time for another barrage, but perhaps they are spent ... please, goddess.

A quiet day around here. I am loading up music on a USB for the wedding of my cousin Susan's best friend. It is a challenge to know what music will move the feet and bodies of people you don't know at all. Will a bit of juju music keep them on the dance floor? How about a bit of reggae here? Is rock steady going too far? How about cumbia and salsa? I know I would dance to things I didn't know were I in a dance mode at a wedding. Are they nostalgia dancers, and, if so, nostalgic for what? Well, I won't be there to see anyway.

I slept a solid nine hours which was very nice. Christina and I continued our sewing circle, such as it is. We finished cutting out the pieces, watched a couple of sewing videos and some Better Call Saul, and I pinned my first pieces together for basting. Christina is an ace sewer taking on things I would never attempt, but she didn't grow up sewing her own clothes (I have some 25+ years on her), so she confessed she has never sewn anything for herself. Stay tuned for further developments. 

I need to go finish cleaning the kitchen and get this pizza into the oven. I just trimmed a bunch of quite beautiful basil from my front yard. I think I find the garden sweet spot as that basil is perfect. (Pizza turned out okay, but lord! it gets hot in the kitchen with the Wolf cranked on.)

It was mostly quiet tonight.

JULY IN INDIANA

The wispy cuttings lie in row

    where movers passed in the heat

A parching scent enters the nostrils.

Morning barely breathed before

    noon mounted on tiers of maples,

fiery and still. The eye smarts.

Moisture starts on the back of the hand.

Gloss and chrome on burning cars fan out

cobwebby lightning over children

    damp and flushed in the shade.

Over all the back yards, locusts

buzz like little sawmills in the trees,

    or is the song ecstatic?—rising

rising until it gets tired and dies away.

Grass baking, prickling sweat, great blazing tree,

magical shadow and cicada song

    recall

those heroes that in ancient days, reclining

on roots and hummocks, tossing pen-knives,

    delved in earth’s cool underworld

and lightly squeezed the black clot from the blade.

Evening will come, will come with lucid stillness

    printed by the distinct cricket

and, far off, by the freight cars’ coupling clank.

    A warm full moon will rise

out of the mothering dust, out of the dry corn land.

— Robert Fitzgerald, The New Yorker, July 8, 1966 issue

A NEAT NOTION, IF LUNATIC

71 of #100daychallenge

The kitties were all scared enough at all the outdoor hubbub to come in with no cat guff leveled in my direction. Three families on our street were having front yard parties. I know they are more about celebrating because it is a holiday than thinking about the USofA. 

The USofA does not make me want to celebrate currently. Y'all know I am pretty pessimistic in the best of times and these are not those. There are now wave upon wave of explosions. Hopefully, they will burn out early. I know that is my plan.

I didn't get in a nap today. My cousin Christina and I worked on cutting out our muslins/tissues which took quite a bit of time. Tomorrow we are meeting to baste and adjust the tissue/muslins and thence to cutting fabric. Not that I needed to at all, but I bought more fabric for this specific dress. I can never find my stash when I need it, but perhaps this will kick off more sewing and I will get those materials better to hand. It is much better to work with someone else on this stuff.

I was sorely tempted to have a drink, but I couldn't muster the energy to buy wine. There is gin and lime juice about ... I am no longer sure how many days it has been. But I didn't have the gumption to go get some.

My friend Peter just wrote that he is feeling a battlefield effect. He also says it is stimulus. money in the sky. The sky is very smoky and stinky. I just don't get this fireworks/explosives thing. It is so aggressive and inconsiderate. Would it help if I were a different gender? At least folks around here aren't firing guns off into the sky. I am a little worried about my garden as my neighbors are big on celebrating this. However, given that they invited me to have a drink and some bbq, they seem to be aware.

I caught my mom watching Fox News a couple of times today... She just walked to the back of the house to complain about the poor air quality. She said it was the worst she has seen it in 94 years. She wants to do something about it. I told her to forget it. I will only escalate in years to come. Best to get far out of town if possible. The USofA is a shit hole of stupidity and toxic masculinity in both biological genders, maybe in the cultural ones, too.

The kitties are nervous except for Fox and Nina. Fox is in his usual perch on my little bookshelf where I keep the books I am working with. Nina is stretched out on my bed. Idrisse is gone to ground somewhere. McCoy is very nervous as is Vera and currently nowhere in sight. 

My temporary crown fell out again, making it a solid three times and a week to go before the permanent one arrives.

WALDEN IN JULY

Three pigeons down-swing

through a chimney of air

onto Black Tom—a rock

in the Sound’s shallows, bare

but for gulls’ dung

and clams’ broken crocks.

There is no food there—

not even a flotsam weed

from high tide. No food.

Unless you are a rock-dove

that maybe eats rocks; or brood

of the Roc, and feed

on imponderables—plasm of

lost time, dreamt magnitude.

Time plasm. There’s a neat

notion, if lunatic,

like—Who was it who said

our souls make an aspic

for the moon to eat?

He saw Man as aphid

in an ant-heap zodiac.

Well, who knows what stocks

of men the moon needs?

She does drag out of us

dreams, longings, certain tides

in the blood, paradox—

being Ishtar, libidinous,

and Dian, light-of-maids.

Maybe time’s the stuff

a moon eats. The white

meat of desire, the dark

of regret, a meat

Universe had none of

till mind reached fore and back—

and, to immortals, sweet.

Something is ranching us!

We wax in numbers; all

our plagues, wars, genocides

don’t dent the capital

stock the increasing mass

cracking on all sides

our spherical corral;

and always we strew in wake

of the planet—and cast ahead—

cobwebs of time. To the moon,

maybe, or some dread

Draco? A chance we take,

till pigeons settle in

their pigeonholes for good.

— Peter Kane Dufault, The New Yorker,  November 12, 1960 issue