Wrongness

This just ain't right.

Fair
72°F
22°C
Humidity 22%
Wind Speed ESE 9 MPH
Barometer 29.81 in
Dewpoint 31°F (-1°C)
Visibility 10.00 mi
Last update 28 Apr 12:20 am MDT

Overview

Basta

My mother was 93 yesterday. I thought about talking with her, but I kept wanting to shout at her and punch her, so I didn't.


My father used to tell me not to change near the window of my bedroom because there were perverts everywhere. My bedroom had a tiny window on the second floor facing the alley. I never completely undressed throughout my childhood. He also objected to my having a lock on my door, telling me I would be burned up if the house caught fire. I used the lock.

I'm not coping well with the world as it is today. And I did spend a lot of it gardening and outside doing physical labor, which usually helps. Sore throat, pollen, stewing about the climate issues. Moby wanted to be outside or on Dylan's lap, nothing else.

I do not want to live past 80. Seriously. Enough.

Token

Tiring work days. Shoulder/upper back improving slowly. PT gave me a new set of exercises, and I'm back to wimpy. Still, progress.

Dave* called on Tuesday to let us know his dad died. At 94, not a surprize, but then when the tough old sweethearts go that long, it can start to seem like they aren't going to die at all. We drove the 40 miles up to Ogden through thick traffic to make the viewing, Thursday. (90 minutes with a lot of stop&go†.) I didn't know his family, but we'd heard about them all, and they us. Dylan was able to shift his schedule to make it up for the funeral yesterday, and talk with the friends of over 30 years. I got him from the train last night at 1900, and fed him.

We got a card for Dave&K, and a handful of little glass ladybugs from that store that has wonderful things, like Bear Who Listens. K sent me a photo of one on the casket. You never know what will be meaningful for someone else, or how, so I think it best to stay with small and a little odd, just in case that fits. I get it right a fair amount of time. When my SIL lost her father many years ago, I sent a small angel token, from the same shop as it turned out, and she was comforted, she told me. Little things to hold in your hand, souvenirs, tokens. Such a human trait.


If there is one thing I'm good at, it's funerals. Spent so much of my childhood attending the funerals, viewings, rosaries, of elderly great aunts and uncles, then aunt&uncles, grandmothers being the last. The viewings always meant an initial quiet sadness, then a gradual telling of stories and lots of laughter. I would never have known most of my family but for funerals. I cry at grief, and know how to act, what to say, what not to say. My year of nursing that included hospice was a natural extension.

Death doesn't worry me, only suffering and outliving my usefulness.


*You know, Dave.

†And my knees are unhappy, as well as my back. But I don't begrudge. Dave* is the friend who got our stuff to us in Boston, the proverbial one who would help you move a body. Not that we've ever had to move a body.

Peels

When my mother made apple pie, I would eat the peels. When she peeled, or made me peel, potatoes, I would eat the peels. She thought it was weird, but allowed it. To me, they just tasted good, crunched nicely.

I told this to Dylan, and he said "you really were malnourished, weren't you?"

And I choked up a little.

Yeah, yes, I was.

Endurance

Evening doze for cats,
Sun under clouds after rain,
A place beyond hope.




"Kibble?"

No, you've had kibble. I make good food for them, and she prefers junk food. Cats.

Digging in the drizzle, putting down more clover and mustard seed, mixed in a shaker from sesame seeds. Can I grow sesame, I wonder? (looks it up) Um, probably not. Not this far north, anyway. That's fine.

Listening to sleepy cat noises, tiny snores and gurgles. We hold each other tightly, and endure.

Bed

After the papering, before and after the painting.

But the paper is coming off at the top now, have to go back and re-paste. Bugger.

Glamour

Don't know what this is, showed up out of a wildflower mix and lived. Seen it in the neighborhood elsewhere. So, it gets to stay.



The bergamot is coming back, which is a happy.

This is the rest of the photo-op. Digging up foxtail, putting in clover and mustard seed. It really is deceptively green and pretty at this stage, but now I know what it becomes, it gets uprooted while the soil is soft enough to dig.

Mostly documentary photos to compare later.



Put out earwig traps yesterday. Start early on those bugges.