BEING HERE AND NOT

 May 21

 

The noise difference between Janet being here and not is quite pronounced. Perhaps we can go down a level of cacophony or two when she gets her hearing aids. Save for the slight ringing in my ears and the occasional cat moving around, it is quite peaceful. Five of the six kitties are arrayed around me, something else that doesn’t happen the same way when Mom is in residence.

I wonder if I am the magnet.

I have a lot of ironing to do. Janet needs name labels ironed into her clothes while she is at the rehab place. Perhaps I just need to set up the ironing board. Generally, I iron many of Janet’s blouses (and some of my own) but I have moved to both of us wearing t-shirts more of the time. Finding clothes to fit Janet is not easy given her low weight countered by substantial breasts. Her shoulders are pretty narrow but she is not small. She has lost 20 pounds since her femur break in November.

The good although likely not permanent news is that Janet is doing quite well. Now that both of her UTIs are cleared up, she is alert, chipper, and far more in the world. Michael and Alicia were down from Oakland this weekend to have eyes on the situation (they were both nurses) and to look at the « exit » documents such as they are. Given my alarm and exhaustion, they were both encouraged as to her progress and likely ability to be at home again.

That’s a big « whew » notwithstanding that things will likely devolve again. I’ve been stopping by with ice cream not every day but at least every other day. Tomorrow, I jailbreak her to an appointment with her neurologist and then we are heading down to the Coffee Cup in Long Beach to have lunch with our dear family friends, Kaye and Charlaine who are driving up from the more southern climes of California to visit her. 

There’s a lot of thumping going on in the darkened dining room. Bebop has a chair that she likes to play in, although it is not easy to figure out just what she is doing. The chair is not entirely even so as she chases her tail and plays through the rungs, there is a good deal of mild crashing about.

The gentle spring blossoms are going to seed, so it is a slow moment for flowers. There are still some sweet peas but most of them are going to pod. The poppies are over, turning dark and grey. The cosmos seem tired, but they are fairly adept at re-seeding so they will likely be around. The sunflowers are about 14 feet tall. Who knew that sunflowers were so prone to powder mold. 

I had a container of mold spray which one screws on to the head of the hose. I had such a hard time getting it to work properly. I think I used most of one bottle in one direction. After some wrassling, I seemed to figure it out and get many plants sprayed. I think the sunflowers are going to need more and constant spraying;

Out of the « way too many » gladiolus bulbs, I have managed to get some into the ground. I had a ridiculous number of them because they were on sale. I cleaned up a bed and popped them in. Bulbs take their own kind of planting and I have yet to have much success with them, but I can’t quite give them up, as the blossoms are so beautiful. I need to spend less time in the garden and more time in the house getting things sorted, (ironed), and generally disposed of. I think I will be spending a fair amount of time posting and hoping to sell things. The stuff is all cool, but finding the proper consumers is not easy.

There was a plan afoot to have a garage/collectible sale next month, but I am not so sure that is going to happen. There is just so much to go through. However, it is essential that I reduced my possession footprint.

I will have about six months here after my mother passes. As I cannot afford to live anywhere in California where I have a pod of friends (not the Bay Area, not Santa Cruz, not here), the current plan is to decamp somewhere in the environs of the Hudson Valley where I will be relatively proximate to some of my friends, and will be able to get into Manhattan and Brooklyn fairly easily. I may well be alone in the immediate town I live in, but it should be relatively affordable.

Sigh.

So, time for Duolingo French and then, hopefully to sleep. Now all six cats are in my immediate vicinity.

ANOTHER ONE CHOCK FULL OF FUN

 14 May

Isn’t there something delightful about the word “jelly”? I am not even that much of a fan but it is so fun and tasty!

I am indulging in a bit of morning-bed-sitting which I have not been able to do since Janet came home. I do need to do my French lesson, mow the lawn, and head out to visit her. I couldn’t get myself together enough to go last night. 

Bummerly enough, the days of morning gloom are already here. The difference in a beautiful morning in the garden and today is quite nearly shocking. I like that in general, my neighborhood is empty at this time of day so that I don’t feel too bad about wandering in the garden in my pyjamas a bit. 

And the saga goes on. Yesterday had me pretty much felled after a conversation with the hospital that indicated that Janet’s medical benefits had run out and that either she had to come home for me to care for with minimal (like four hours tops a week) or go into a rest home that would begin depleting her, and I use this term loosely, assets. Which meant I would be looking at about six months to get out of here (a very daunting task) and figure out the rest of my life.

Imma just come out and say it: it’s hard to do anything when you are grieving. The idea of organizing, pitching, and selling all of my stuff is quite an ordeal in itself (although I am working on it). 

However, a facility re-ran her benefit history and it turns out that she is eligible for another 100 days. She had been back at home for sixty days which is the number at which the insurance resets. She went into the hospital again on the 61st day.

So, Reality Wolf, step back a step or two.

Off to lawn mow and French homework.

Moments have either a short bend or a long bend in the way they turn how things go, and this one had a long bend to it.

— Eliabeth Crook, The Madstone

15 May

I will not be describing either short or long story bends. 

Janet was checked into her new PT/rehab place. The decaying meat locker where she was previously housed looked nicer. And now that I think of it, the money they must have paid to be right next to the hospital should have tipped me off as to what they were up to. 

Her new place is not at all fancy, in fact, it almost looks a bit run down. But the care seems to be appreciably better. There are no screaming, slobbering patients about. Lots of them hang out in the lobby and take their afternoon naps there. The nurses remember my name and greet me. There always seems to be someone you can get ahold of. 

I need to hie myself to slumberland as tomorrow is another one chock full of fun, starting with another doctor's appointment for my mom early in the morning.

THUS, WE CONTINUE IN LIMBO

It is, of course, one of life’s persistent disappointments that a great moral crisis in my life is nothing but matter for gossip in yours.

Phyllis Rose, Parallel Lives

It's getting on past my bedtime but I do want to get back to more consistent writing. I also want to thank so many of you for your declarations of support. I was most touched and overwhelmed.

By the way, I meant nothing negative towards any of you in including that quote, it is just true.

A roller-coaster has nothing on my emotions these past few days. I am dizzy and beyond weary with all the ups and downs and ifs and ands and buts of the current situation. And am learning with great force how hard it is to be in the universe of insecurity and not knowing.

I did a bit of a reality check thinking about those poor people in Gaza getting the shit and life beat out of them by Bibi Netanyahu. And one wonders what the actual fuck. I try to lighten up and alight on a bit of hope.

One thing gardeners have is hope. Having a garden is a manifestation of hope and future. 

I dragged myself to my Pilates/yoga session with Sonia today, although all I really wanted to do was fall into a deep sleep. However, I know I would like to maintain the abdominal muscles and agility I have worked for, so, although I was crying so hard as to be dizzy, I showed up (late) for my session. Undoubtedly, it was helpful and grounding. But the waves of overwhelming reality interspersed with the waves of grief and sorrow (a bad set if there ever was one) continued. 

So I stopped at my favorite nursery for more plants that I might not see grow into adulthood and fruition. But that's where the hope comes in. And the desire for beauty. And instead of cleaning the house and continuing to sort and organize, I chose some gardening time. 

I had no idea how attached one could get to one's garden. Of course, there is much to be done, always, but it does amaze me that I have grown 10 foot sunflowers (just starting to bloom) as well as a ridiculous amount of sweet peas. I will need to take some of these to Janet tomorrow.

After much hazzerai, it was found that Janet's rehab/pt benefit had reset BY ONE DAY and she was able to go to another facility to see if we can get her walking with a walker again. The last decaying meat locker just focussed on depleting her benefits and then planned to warehouse her while sucking her assets. I have experienced this before when my niece Anita was warehoused, but somehow that episode did not click in.

So tomorrow, I will go check out the new facility and see if I can find out a prognosis for her recovery. She did have another UTI of some sort. Thus, we continue in limbo.

THE UP AND DOWN ALL OF IT, I HOPE (Part 1)

 Early morning or late at night? May 12, 2024

I realized a few moments ago that this would be Janet’s last Mother’s Day. That felt noteworthy to me. 

Then again, given my current waves of grief and sorrow, I think anything would set me off. Hard to really celebrate with her, given that she is hospitalized again. And pretty unlikely that she will ever live at her house again, even if there is occasion to visit from the skilled nursing facility where she will likely spend her last days.

I know, I know. There is a lot to catch up on. Notwithstanding the sweet pleas to take up my blog again, it has been most challenging to find the mental bandwidth or the time to do so. Until these last couple of days, I had scarcely streamed anything, save for watching Jeopardy. 

To summarize, although I reserve the right to flashback, in early November, Janet stepped out of a car and broke her hip. Yes, that quite a scene with her screaming (and I do mean screaming) in pain. She was being dropped off after Senior Center dominoes by her friends Eric and Diane. I was at the kitchen sink when I heard the car drive up. I wiped my hands and headed to the door to help her to the house as Diane was bringing in her purse and water bottle. I looked out the dining room front window as Diane was walking back the the car. In that less than 15 second interval, she stood up and then was on the ground.

Not one of the three of us, or four if you count Janet, really knows what happened. Where she stepped out of the car onto the driveway was not an even surface, and I suspect she took the wrong step and snapped her hip. Eric couldn’t help her as he has a bad back (turns out he had cancer), so it was up to me and Diane to get her up and wrestle her into my inadequate Honda Fit. I knew she wasn’t dying and I also knew how horrible it is to be jostled in a fucking ambulance, so I opted to drive her there myself. 

Knowing that it would be a long time in the ER, I ran back into the house to get some supplies to sustain me during the wait. Janet was relatively comfortable if she didn’t move. Once at ER, I went to check her in and ask for a gurney and a couple of EMTs to get her inside. Of course, they ignored me, sent one guy and a wheelchair out to the Honda to accommodate her. Uh, no. Screams filled the Whittier air. 

After a small team of EMTs got her onto the gurney they got her into a room relatively quickly, as I recall. I don’t think it took too long … only a couple of hours, before they admitted her. Her 96 year old femur was broken. She was operated on the next day and came through the surgery none the worse for the wear. I was more worried about the anesthesia than anything, but it did not significantly affect her.

Here’s where things go off the tracks for me. While she was still in the regular hospital, which was for about two weeks, she was up and walking with a walker. By the time she was transferred to the temporary care unit, she was walking, with a walker, probably 130 feet. In the temporary care unit (TCU), she didn’t make as much progress as the first week or two has portended, but, as I understand it, recovery is not a straightforward trajectory. After her insurance ran out for TCU, she was transferred to what I came to understand was a hell hole. A skilled nursing facility. Or as I came to think of it, the decaying meat locker. Without getting myself further upset at this hour, in the current situation, and after two gins-and-tonics, I found out firsthand how shamefully, how disgracefully, how tragically the “health care system” in this country truly is. 

What strikes me the most is how purposefully they obfuscate the process. I don’t know about all of you, but I didn’t know much about nursing homes. I didn’t know “the rules,” didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know how to help or ameliorate anything. For instance, no one discussed with or handed me some basic do’s and don’t’s about laundry. Consequently, my mother lost many items because they just wash everything unless you harass them, and things get lost if they don’t have name tags in them. I mean, my mom’s in a skilled nursing facility, is laundry the first thing I think of? A simple guide or introduction to settling in, a one page document, would have been a huge help.

Of course, when I spoke to the head of the nursing department, I was lied to and told that this was an oversight and they would get such a document or a documents to me. Later I was told by someone further down the food chain, that no such thing existed. No rules or procedures for checking someone out for doctor’s appointments. Forfend that they would be organized so. More screed on this later.

Even when Janet had seen her regular doctor who prescribed more pain medication, they ignored what I told them rather than following up in any way. Given that Janet is riven by arthritic pain, particularly in her shoulders, pain meds were critical to her ability to do physical therapy. So, when she was in too much pain for PT, they just let her lay around. Hello atrophy. 

Janet and I have a precarious financial situation which is likely no news to any of you. Should Janet be a “permanent resident”, all of her assets (such as they are) go to the money, blood, and soul sucking facility. That leaves me without a place to live as there is nothing I could afford nearby. 

Things looked extremely grim, based on the facility’s assessment that she could not be at home. Then I brought her home myself, just to see how she moved around. It was tough at first getting her in and out of the car, particularly into a wheelchair, but as the day moved on, she was more able to move around. She didn’t need as much help getting in and out of the car. When I took her back to the hell hole, I went in to get a wheelchair, and when I got back, she had gotten herself out of the car and was standing there waiting for me. If she can move around at all on her own, she can be home.

Okay, I’m stopping here. Hope to continue the saga in the not-too-distant future, but who the fuck knows.

I SHOULD DO THE SAME

17 of 100

May 24th

It is hard to make plans to have fun when you would rather disappear into the earth. The depression continues, yet I am soldiering on figuring out who I can see when. As far as I can tell, the Adderall isn't touching this morass of fear, anxiety, disaffection, with a smattering of despair. At least the sky has begun to clear up a bit. I will head for the yard to get the rest of my plants in the ground and perhaps soak up some rays.

August 7

"And then it is another day and another and another, but I will not go on about this because no doubt you too have experienced time."

— Jenny Offill, Weather

And there you have it. Time has passed. Not so sure that much of clear import has happened. Of course, so much is in the small moments and nuances, as my dear teacher Sonia like to remind me.

"... the images of a moment, bathed in a light that is theirs alone ..."

— Annie Ernaux, The Years

That's kind of interesting, making the light of recent events an organizing principle of the last few months.

During April, May, and a lot of June here in LA, the light was always damn grey. Not very conducive to cheeriness for those of us who need some of the inspiration of brightness to orient themselves to even being alive, facing another of those "another days." Of course, when I returned two weeks ago, it was punishingly, disorientingly hot. The goddesses of kindness have smiled upon us, giving us just a bit of reasonable respite so the will to live can regenerate.

It's been a tough. year, all in all. There haven't been any major tragedies, and the bumps have been ones that are recoverable, more uncomfortable, expensive, and upsetting to the general flow than terribly painful things. I had several bouts of pretty severe depression, but these ended up being due to outside and mangeable forces for the most part: too many narcotics (for my surgery), and other ...

August 20

Tropical Storm Hilary continues to rain here in the LA flatlands. Nina has been by my side all day, mostly in bed with me, where I spent the majority of the day, studying French, eating pistachios, and watching a movie. One of my recent resolutions was to try to watch at least one movie a week, as I have rarely been doing recently. I don't know why I chose to watch the flick that I did

September 12

... and now I have no idea what that film was.

Been some tough times for me. I hate hot weather, and although this has been a milder summer, even when it cools out, it take a bit to rev up into actual life and action and then it just might get crushingly hot and you are stuck reeling and hiding, productivity a long ways away.

Tonight, however, tonight. I felt fall in the air. It's still warm and unusually humid for LA, so it feels even warmer. But as I stepped out in the darkening skyscape after yoga, I could feel the underpinning of actual chill and the promise of autumn. 

Of course, the other harbinger of autumn is the Pumpkin Spice Lifestyle that is on display at every chain store we might go to. Someone should write a Pumpkin Spice Season musical. I like pumpkin pie well enough, but I sure disapprove of having it (or much of anything else) shoved down my throat. I think I began to see Halloween costumes in Costco in July, for sure by August. No surprise, you know me by now, but this adds to my consumerism agita. 

It's all the same moment. Time has flattened out. Christmas is 4th of July adjacent in our marketing cycles. And there always has to be some holiday, some event to sell us on. At this point, the quotidienne everydayness is practically something to celebrate. Who cares about any cycles but the marketing cycles, that which leads us. And where is the organized consumerist religion? I know, there are all those prosperity gospels out there ... and maybe we are close with our knee-numbing money-sucking-joy-killing worship of wealth and big business. There is some still disingenuous there. We need to outrightly pray to Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, Elon Musk, the murderous Sackler family, and others I likely know nothing about.

Oh yes oh yes oh yes ... another petty puny tirade, when I just wanted to note the coming of Fall.

As summer dies down, my garden is still filled with Monarchs and Swallowtails. They love the milkweed, bougainvillea, and the fennel. When the windows by my desk are open, I get at least two Monarchs a day getting stuck. I even bought a butterfly net so that I could more safely urge them on their way. 

I had a terrible night last night, much insomnia I finally found some music that could soothe me out and own, but it must have been around 3 before I fell into a deep sleep. All the kitties are in and Janet has crashed so perhaps I should do the same.

Thinking of you, even when I don't have the wherewithall to post.

GRAPPLING WITH A LUMINOUS DOOM

16 of 100

Later, May 18th

I did not have a good day. I did accomplish some things, progress was made, but I am not sure who was driving. I got up early for me and somehow managed to pop an Adderall around 9am. This is a good practice if I can remember to do it, but mostly I can't. Perhaps I will find another focus that allows me to organize my mornings better. Slowing down on the alcohol intake and not staying up much past 11pm does help. 

For two days, I could not find my medication for depression. Under better or even normal circumstances, I wouldn't think this was a particularly big deal. There are quite a few things that I am trying to understand and/or process right now. My current sense of self is a bit spongy. And, you know, those crazy dreams. Although I was able to put one foot in front of the other, it wasn't clear that there was an actual direction. As is common with biochemical depression, there are surges of some chemicals that make you more or less okay, so one is surfing with oneself all the while. My depression was not about losing love but I still felt like this 

a window in your heart
Well, everybody sees you're blown apart
Everybody feels the wind blow

No one was around to feel the wind blowing but me and that solitude to walk around, my mind and energy a circus, not a ball, of confusion, took a bit of the anxiety away. Cycling in a not pleasant way. Still, I puttered and pottered along, finally able to find my missing antidepressants, whereupon, I pop two. I was feeling wiggy enough to consider calling my psychiatrist and/or my gp to help modulate. This is a rarity. I just kept dodging around my corners, trying to avoid sinkholes or manic highs (not really my style). I was almost as if I were rowing through the day, pulling myself forward, then resting from the effort, and hoping I didn't slide back. I felt hollowed out from my belly to behind my heart.

And then there was the matter of teaching while I was almost in a fugue state. This is something that you cannot really share with people who aren't professionals or depressives themselves. And now the words to an execrable song come to mind (still tripping here a bit) 

You got to know when to hold 'em

Know when to fold 'em

And know when you have to keep your shit together. And I was. Class was good.

I am still shaky, my personal re-integration into this current meat suit is not yet complete. However, I will end this for now, hope my dreams are not too intense, and look this over tomorrow.

May 23rd

It just rolls along, that time and tide. My mental/emotional state is marginally better, but those sinkholes open often enough. One of the main factors herein is the amount of care my mother needs. I have to/had to come to terms with not really having much of a life from now until her end. I still had some idea that there was some autonomy or personal life besides taking care of her, but I had to reframe that. I was trying to get her out the door to see her new urologist (she has a UTI) when I happened to see her trying to wipe herself and get up off of the toilet. She's very frail, notwithstanding that she still goes to play dominoes and hang-out with her friends. She's been given a requisition to get some physical therapy at a gym, but I have had so many other niggetity other health issues that I haven't, with my high degree of unmotivated depression, been able to get this together. 

And, of course, I am worried about going away. She needs quite a bit of help on the personal scale (making sure she has pads or diapers, making sure they are where she can find them, her meds, feeding her, helping her with her clothes, washing her clothes, etc etc) I am concerned about leaving her in the care of others. 

That said, I am so beyond fried right now. It is frustrating as I feel we are close to being able to get by but just falling a bit short. I could use a housekeeper/cleaner a few times a month to just get things to a bit higher standard, and someone to spell me and give me a weekend off a month or even just more hours. This is not to say that I don't leave her alone (checking in with her, of course) for some hours, but it would be preferable to have someone in the house. And I know even the current level of freedom is likely to go away.

In other news, the garden is spectacular, but I do have some work to do before I go away. Yes, and then I am starting to fret about packing and all. How to get to the airport? Can I move some of her doctor's appointments? Will the Janet caregivers take good care of les chats? It's a lot.

Enough worry and grousing. Just giving you a snapshot of "what it is" ... I need to take some allergy meds, my night meds, and get to sleep. Janet has a cardiologist appointment in the morning. Plus, there are two kitties already tucked into my bed.

SLEEPING IN THE FOREST

I thought the earth

remembered me, she

took me back so tenderly, arranging

her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichen and seeds. I slept

as never before, a stone

on the riverbed, nothing

between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated

light as moths among the branches

of the perfect trees. All night

I heard the small kingdoms breathing

around me, the insects, and the birds

who do their work in the darkness. All night

I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling

with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.

— Mary Oliver, Sleeping in the Forest, Beacon Press, Boston, 1978

My excellent neighbor and friend, Sally, with roses from my garden. She told me that she comes over and picks flowers all the time. I was pleased.

NO SHELTER FROM THE TONGUES

15 of 100

25 April 2023

I had a hell of a time getting that #14 post out. It has been so long since I have used my laptop and other devices, that I really had to work to remember how to use it all. I need to sit down and spend some quality time getting my devices to like one another again.

These days, I spend most of my online time on my iPad, either watching some tv-ish thing, or more likely working on Duolingo French lessons. That takes us quite a bit of time each day, especially if I get competitive. I used to play a lot of NY Times games (Wordle, Crossword, Tiles, Spelling Bee, etc.), but that time is now taken up pretty much by French. As I occasionally write a word in French when I mean English or vice versa, I guess it is setting in. I do need to branch out and to try to find the time to read French. Notwithstanding the piles and shelves of books, I am not doing all that much reading lately.

The Kermit Place Readers, my Brooklyn book club decided to read Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man as it is the 70th anniversary of that most amazing book. It is one of the hardest books I have ever tried to read. Seriously. It is a mindfuck. Brilliant. So violent and otherworldly in the first half that it is difficult to pick up. You are not reading this book for pleasure. Which is not to say that the writing, the plot, and whole damn thing is not breath-takingly original. But not easy.

At this point. I am going to check out and head for bed as I have an appointment with my knee surgeon. I get the first appointment so I am in and out of there. Hopefully, it won't be two months before I sit down to write again

Thursday, May 11

I think about you, about writing this every day. Somehow the days go by and I haven't had time to sit down to think and write. My new goal is to find two days a week to write and post. I am hoping that a more specific schedule will prompt me into making the time and doing it. My posting days were going to be Wednesday and Sunday as, in general, those are "more leisurely" days with no yoga classes and less Mom stress. Still all a work in progress, I guess. 

Yoga classes are going well. Right now, I have a core group of about five. Things have not picked up so much since my knee surgery notwithstanding having tried to bring former students back in. The ones who do come are just lovely and it is great experience for me even if it is not particularly remunerative. I am also doing online privates on FaceTime so send me a message or an email if you might be interested. Not sure how many more I can do, but worth checking it out.

French lessons take up a portion of my "free time"; I seem to have lost my ability to sit and read. I am still not finished with Invisible Man!! And now the Kermit Place Readers have move on to Chérie by Colette. In a not unusual spat of optimism, I bought a dual language edition, but I think I will just have to revert to English to power through. 

A close up of a longhorn beetle's face. Also, how I felt this morning.

May 18

Although the sun is not out, the birds are doing their part to encourage me to live, love, laugh, and be happy (nb "When the Red Red Robin" ... there was a Dion and the Belmonts version which was not tenable). 

I guess the good news is that I got out of bed and fed the cats and voila! here I am trying to post before I trudge through the day. 

I have been having some terrible, unsettling dreams. In one a couple of days ago, I was drunk and driving my friend Matt's parents brand new red boat-of-a car, careening into things and scratching it mightily. Why Matt's parents, now deceased, car? My current explanation is that Matt's dad was a banker and it was a family clearly comfortable and conservative with assets. I'm the car and in the car, careening around, witlessly, to some disaster (my life? I think yes). Wheeeee but not wheee.

In other car news, I got my first moving violation since 1975 or so (that one was me driving recklessly and fast up 5 to get to a game at Dodger's Stadium). The violation fee is $480. Ouch seriously. Not to mention the increase in my insurance. Which just adds to the general dread of trying to get by these days. I also went back and looked at my insurance premium in order to teach which is $600. I barely make that much in a year of teaching. To that end, I have applied to teach in the Silver Sneakers program at a local gym. 

I am going through some struggles as evinced in my dream. There was another in which cats I had unwillingly abandoned were thrown in my window as I was going somewhere in a house that moved. One was a beautiful mackerel orange tabby with glowing hazel eyes. I was glad to have him back although he was kind of foaming at the mouth, maybe. And how to pay for a vet? 

Yes, money worries.

Anywhere you go, it's the same cry
Money worries
Anywhere you go, it's the same cry
Money worries

Janet is deteriorating ... maybe that is just aging. It's the house that is deteriorating and no room in the budget to fix much of anything. I think my focus on gardening is for this reason. I can kind of control and afford it if I am careful. The results are right present. The garden is just beautiful. The first sunflowers and the poppies are winding down, the the delphiniums, cosmos, bachelor's buttons, and roses are jamming. I just go out and get lost in the dirt. About a week ago, on a Saturday, a neighbor was also working on his yard. Being a friendly fellow, Tony came down to kibbitz a few times. I was out there for about seven hours. He finally told me I need to stop. Then he started laughing because I was the dirtiest person he had ever seen. It's true, I did look like I was trying out for a part in Li'l Abner.

LILIES

I have been thinking

about living 

like the lilies

that blow in the fields.

They rise and fall

in the wedge of the wind,

and have no shelter

from the tongues of the cattle,

and have no closets or cupboards,

and have no legs.

Still I would like to be

as wonderful

as that old idea.

But I were a lily

I think I would wait all day

for the green face

of the hummingbird

to touch me.

What I mean is,

could I forget myself

even in those feathery fields?

When Van Gogh

preached to the poor

of course he wanted to save someone—

most of all himself

He wasn’t a lily,

and wandering through the bright fields

only gave him more ideas

if would take his life to solve.

I think I will always be lonely

in this world, where the cattle

graze like a black and white river—

where the ravishing lilies

melt, without protest, on their tongues—

where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss,

just rises and floats away.

— Mary Oliver, House of Light, Beacon Press, Boston, 1990

THERE AIN'T NO PLACE

14 of 100

12 fevrier

We are all a bit edgy what with the heater not working and a cold spell back upon us. I have ventured out of my bed to see if I can be useful at all, but between the chill and the cats, I might just go back to bed. In the summer, my office window is open during the day so that the cats can come and go as they like. However, they don't seem to think anything of the weather, so they just jump up and request to go out or come in with obnoxious frequency.

Idrisse, in particular, is a crazy-making kitty. She will pound on my bedroom window should I be on my bed. When I go to the backdoor to let her in, she sits on top of the cabinet adjacent to the kitchen door to ponder whether she does want to come in or if she would rather stay outside. Some of her rumination is due to fear of Vera, however, I attribute most of it to her exercising what she thinks of as her kitty rights to be indecisive. The other cats are more forthwith about their comings and goings, which is generally related to food, although sometimes inclement weather can influence them.

Last week on Wednesday, I spoke to one of the domineers, Joseph, and he did not sound very well. When queried he said he felt fine. Yesterday, Diane called to say that he was in ICU due to covid and pneumonia. Why are we all so reluctant to see to our health? Meanwhile, Janet has been hacking off her head today. I think she needs to stop drinking coffee as I think this cough is acid reflux. I found some omeprazole and Claritin to give her, the Claritin having been recommended by her doctor. The incessant coughing gets on my last nerve and all of those in between.

I also had a very frustrating day with my French study. I just kept messing up which, of course, made me mess up more. I think I need to go read some English and ice my knee. To be continued. 

The next morning.

Janet is still hacking although it has subsided somewhat due to the administration of hot black cherry tea and Vicks Vapor Rub. McCoy is clicking around the house because he staid inside for breakfast instead of running out with Fox and Nina. I would get up, probably, but Vera and Bebop have me somewhat pinned down. I probably won’t be able to stand Janet’s coughing for much longer. Or those cat nails on hardwood floors signalling the call of the wild.

The day started out somewhat warmer and sunnier, which did give me some hope for a warmer day. That, however, has gone and I believe the temperature is dropping. I’d like to get Janet in the shower, but I am afraid she would get colder without benefit of the heater. I don’t need the complaining. At any rate, I should get up as Janet is getting a visit from a PT and I need to clean the carpet and straighten up.

In better news, I haven’t taken any pain pills but my knee is not hurting. I am still very very stiff when I get up. I slept deliciously late, having a dream about a yoga studio where the questionnaire about previous experience pissed me off mightily. I was yelling at and humiliating people. Very Zen of me. Sigh. I would prefer to continue to stay cuddled with Vera and Bebop, practice my French and then read some more of Monkey Boy, but I have things to attend to. I will do a little French before I get up.

15 March 2023

The relentless rain has relented enough for the hummingbirds to venture out for some food. The wisteria is blooming notwithstanding the inclement weather. As I look out into the yard, all I see is relentless wet and green. Weeds as high as an elephant's eye.

Been a long month. 

Joseph shared his covid with Janet and she, in turn, shared it with me. Although she is 96, I became more ill than she. My first night I was crazy feverish, aching, moaning, and throwing off all the covers. I tested positive for a good two weeks and was down for most of that time, missing physical therapy and everything else. Except French. Every day, the French. Saigon, I'm still only in Saigon.

Must fly now for a doctor's appointment.

25 April 2023

Finishing this post is what is getting in the way of writing more.  So here goes.