A BITE

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Sometimes you can take a the first bite of a piece of well-buttered toast and think, "Oh hell yes." And the world is a bit better while you chew and maybe take a swig of hot, dark coffee. 

If you can get yourself up early enough, you can do some things before the heat monster infuses you with lassitude combined with crushing your brain into quicksand. I have been slow watering my poor plants to see if I can bring some of them back to life.

Many days later.

The challenge to get the quorum of necessary elements for writing, will, intelligence, emotion, and something to write about has been impossible to muster.

Later in that same evening.

Got a call from a dear friend with whom I don't speak often enough and was distracted for a couple of hours.

So, I am not going to try too hard to write now as I have a long day ahead of me (eye doctor appointment for Janet, class planning, class teaching ... and extra moments filled with anxiety and dread). But here are some photos.

The first pomegranate.

Fox and Nina have a visit.

THE SLIGHTLY HUMAN PART

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Not a particularly good day for me. At this hour, I am still struggling with some long-term personnel changes that do not come easily for me. You know, it is always a fight for perspective and balance. And for many of us, admitting our own needs and value is a tough decision if it means reducing someone's footprint in your life.

In other not important news, I managed to drag myself to the new gym to sign up and then did 30 minutes on the stationary bike. This may not be such an accomplishment for those of you who are upright and functional, but it took some dedication for me to do so. It's a fancy gym and free to me! I may even ask if they need some teachers for their Silver Sneakers program down the line. 

And, I was approached to teach or take part in a goat yoga class. It sounds silly to me but I don't see a compelling reason to NOT check it out. 

I will admit to sadness.

I will admit to being overwhelmed.

I will admit to gin.

Although my interest in gardening or even most living things is fairly limited at the moment, I did water the front and do some dead-heading. I guess this is what depression is ... as if I didn't know ... where little gives you pleasure or motivation. 

Then comes the slightly human part of pushing through. Not only did I sign up at the gym, but I taught yoga, had my oil and transmission fluid changed, shopped for groceries (again), finally cleaned the kitchen counter and floor, and managed to write this. 

It is not always easy living in an affection and support vacuum, but a shout out to DH and KH for being there today.

PROCESS CUTS BREAKS IN SO MANY DIMENSIONS

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This post is influenced by wine. Not too much, but enough to make me tipsy. My left knee hurts. I had a cortisone shot a week ago and not much is happening. Pain pills (Advil) was consumed to no apparent effect. Do you sometimes have trouble with affect and effect? The late and oft lamented Anita (recently deceased niece) would have enjoyed this discussion.

Well, yes, I miss her. Am aware that she is not there. But her life was so reduced that it seems as if I can keep speaking or communing with her. Maybe death is supposed to be that way. Maybe that is one of the lessons David was referring to. I didn't feel that way when my brother Carl died. All I felt was absence (and still do often, after 13 years). Her death feels like a mistake, something that can be done over, and also like something that was needed.

Today, I finally called the detective who was assigned to the case of the burglary. It is all circumstantial, but the fact that all of her records (taxes, registration, bills other than medical and legal bills (even the correspondence about her participation in the case against Purdue Pharma for her oxy addiction) points to a person who had confidence and time. There was nary a bill for her internet floating around her apartment. 

I have been sleeping without benefit of Trazadone these last few days. I have it on hand, but I have been so ready to sleep when I finally hit hay, I have been trying to do without it. And I have slept alright.

No one is particularly productive in this heat. I have a window from the morning (generally around nine a.m. for me) and about 3:00 p.m. when stupor and stupidity have equal hands. That is not a large window of productivity when some of it is taken up with the ever-frustrating Janet management.

I love my mom. I don't want her to go any sooner than her health allows, but it is a challenge as she sinks ever further into her constitutional passivity. Acnd her natural born obfuscation. She is not capable of a straight yes or no answer when an amelioration might gum up and prolong the interchange.

Fox is having a hard time that Idrisse is settled in the place he likes to be. As I have said, there is limited area for cat sprawling near my desk and it is first come, first served. He has left the room in a huff.

Janet said she was contemplating how to commit suicide today. Hanging herself is not an option as she can't easily lift her arms above her head. She thought about walking out into traffic, but that is pretty random, as most folks would stop for her. So, I guess she will have to live for now. I was not in favor of the plan. 

Goddamn if there isn't a hysterical dog barking in the background. 

I did some gardening today, albeit not enough. I pulled up some grass as well as deep watering on areas that are suffering from my recent neglect. My neighbors noticed my garden suffering but watering is just one more thing I have little interest in. 

Do you ever think about process versus event? I think about it quite frequently and am still stymied by incorporating the damn reality into my life calibration. Things take time, damn it. We are so conditioned to results and gratification NOW. Understanding and embracing process cuts breaks in so many dimensions.

BUT NOT YET NOW

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Janet and I were late to Domineers yoga today. It was hot and they were rather unsettled and uncomfortable. They were willing to blow it off, and I was wavering. I convinced them to do at least a short session as they had barely done anything in July. And I need to figure out what I am going to teach if my class at the Town Hall goes forward. It did not take long for them (and me) to get back into the groove. I heard the tell-tale sighs of renewed comfort and relaxation. And Janet rather fell into line.

While driving Janet to dominoes yesterday, she said she wanted to cry. This is not uncommon, albeit intensified, when I want her to do something. She almost always balks for awhile and then forgets all about it once she is there. She is worried, and so am I, that her friends are getting tired of taking care of her. She can be crazy whiny and then demanding and irrational about things. She can also be as normal as pumpkin pie in the fall. It's very challenging to push her out of her immediate comfort zone. I know old-hand parents know this one well, but it is an uncomfortable challenge for me.

And I can have a short fuse.

Sometimes I feel my inner-Walter (my dad) who was not very patient, not particularly kind, and prone to dismissiveness. I believe I have noted this before in the past recesses of this blog. I don't like to see this in myself, but what was my other model? Janet? Who spaced out, abandoned us in many situations (or me at least), detached, and non-judgmental when some adult judgement was in order. I don't like the part of me that behaves like either one of them, but I don't always have the patience (that word again) to examine and, hopefully, rise above.

And to the all of it. Trying to get a good rhythm of de-accessioning. Is it one article of clothing, one book, one cd, and one craft project a day? I hesitate to take on a large project as I fear it will end up being more of an unfinished mess. I have decided to give up knitting and to get rid of my various stashes of wool/yarn ... or at least most of it. Southern California is too damn hot to even think about knitting and given that the only things I make are scarves, it hardly seems worth it. There are likely too many scarves in the world, and I should know as I have a whole lot of them.

I have three cats jockeying for the limited flat space around me. Currently, Nina and Fox are on my small library table. McCoy, whom I have to admit is kind of a pinheaded kitty, with a body bigger than his head, is as close as he can reasonably get. Since I have been back, McCoy has been hanging closer. I often wake to find him sleeping somewhere on my bed. Last night, he was quite aggressive in pursuing some serious petting. 

The garden looked a bit happier today, but I do need to do more deep watering. My goal is to get up in the morning and do it, but, so far, that is nothing more than a plan. Isn't that a beautiful tiger cat belly?

FAREWELL VOYAGING WORLD

It was the departure, the sun was risen,

the light came across the flat sea, the yellow blades

fell like swords on the small white houses

the half hoisted sail creaked on the ship

the seagulls hovered in circles and cried

on the foredeck the sailors stood at the capstan

the moving light made the land look as if it were moving

the houses shifted the windows changed

cocks crew and the hens strutted into the street

and you went down the path of shells, carrying

a box on your shoulder a bundle in your hand

I followed hearing ahead the sound of your feet

but you also carried the invisible

you carried also the unspoken

what we could not say what we had not said

what we had not lived and could never live

what we had lived but could not be forgotten

where will you remember it where again will you sit down

at a little foreign table reading a paper

the news a month old and our hearts a month dead

with a strange clock above you and a bird in a cage

chirping in another language

but not yet now it is still the daybreak

look they are hoisting the sails and singing

the moving light makes the land seem to move

it is we who are going away and not you

we take away with us an indecipherable heritage

time is broken in our hands

it is we who leave you here in a motionless ship

as we begin the immeasurable circle

say goodbye to us make your farewells

the earth is leaving you the earth is going

never again shall we come to this permanent ship

or you everlasting with your box on your shoulder

it will always be daybreak with us, the beginning,

we shall never be older or wise or dead.

— Conrad Aiken, The New Yorker, January 12, 1935 issue

ONE WHATEVER AT AT TIME

 

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Finally out of Salt Lake City. Spending the night in St. George, Utah. This is kind of a cool town. It's very pretty here. 

I would probably write more but I am pissed off at Janet and I left my power conditioner in Murray, Utah. I wonder if my brother will recognize it and bring it home. So, I have limited battery left. I tried to do this on my iPad, but couldn't get the right web address. 

Back in LA.

Sometimes coffee can regenerate the will to live, which is where I am this morning. It is our second morning back. Janet and I had to get up early, for us, to go to the eye doctor. I didn't sleep well so I woke up before my 6:45 alarm. The damp and the heat are already present. I don't usually let the cats out this early so three of them are hovering around me here at the desk.

A week later, on Sunday night ...

Whoa, writing pony! Let me see if I can ride for a sentence or two.

I just don't know what (or if) I think. I spent the first week back from Utah in a semi-daze. It seemed like the right time to re-watch Big Love and do a lot of needlepoint. Big Love had another level of depth, now that I knew more about the Salt Lake City and St. George area. I still find it a fascinating show, even though some of the narrative seems insane (Adalene trying to kill Albie, Albie trying to kill everyone, etc.) but given some of what I have read about fundamentalist Mormons, not ENTIRELY far fetched. The writing of the interpersonal relationships was stellar as was most of the acting. I think I was even dreaming Big Love. But that's all over now.

The influx of boxes of Carole's (my half-sister) and Anita's (my half-niece) stuff has me overwhelmed. 22 boxes of Vernon Kilns dishware, Star Wars/Star Trek Memorabilia, and miscellaneous other stuff to be disposed of or sold. I did manage to put up an item or two on FB, Etsy, and eBay, but as there are other similar items, I do not expect them to sell rapidly.

Throwing away what was left of Anita's life was ... well, maybe traumatic ... certainly set me back on my heels or my head or some part of my body. David repeatedly said "There is a lesson here, but what is it?" I am reading for Swedish death cleaning (but not Kondo!) ... once I am on my mental feet again. I just confronted my younger brother's annual again ... I think I need to move it along through trash or donation. 

Today, I interspersed the last season of Big Love with trying to re-integrate into the flow my life had before Anita died. (Yesterday, I went to cousin Christina's to work on our dresses. She is almost finished with hers.) My garden is nearly dead as I could barely be bothered to water last week, notwithstanding the heat. I did do some deep watering on the fruit trees (still need to hit the pomegranate) and the roses. I did some of Mom's ironing. (She finds it easier to get into shirts that button in the front rather than pulled over her head because of her arthritic shoulders.) I did a loose clean of the refrigerator (I have a vegetable drawer again.) I made some Anita-estate telephone calls. I missed her.

So, I know this is disjointed but that accurately reflects how I am. I am trying to re-establish some rhythms as I disrupt the patterns of having too much and not wanting others to have to deal with it all. I constantly remind myself that it is one action, one shirt, one book, one scarf, one whatever at a time. 

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

 75 of 100daychallenge

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