days I miss

Tonight after I put Miriam in bed I sat and edited old blog entries.

I began this blog in October 2007. Miriam was still doing well, but the sword of Damocles was hanging over our heads. We were waiting, even if we did not know what we were waiting for.

Tonight I watched a sad movie of a father who was dying. He was divorced from the mother of his two children. It made me sad. But they talked, they argued, they hugged. They had good conversations right up to the end. That is not how AD works.

My sister who is a writer and publisher wants me to put the early blog pieces into a smallish book that can be listed on Amazon.com for a few bucks. I am resisting, she is persisting. It is a story I want to tell, but there has to be an end to the story and we are not there yet, so I will put it off.

Yet tonight I copied the first three months of this blog and put it all in a file in my computer. Not complex stuff really. As I read and edited and cut out the duplicate chatter, I was remind of how far we have come.

Once we argued over whether she had AD or not. Now she get short with me when I don't dress or undress her. I pull her hair, or I pull her shirt over her bosoms and that hurts or I pull the turtle neck shirt off her head and that hurts.

What we don't have is a real conversation. I miss those days.

Gordon

We live in a college town. In fact there are three pretty decent college in this area.

Years ago I was struggling with Analytical Geometry and Calculus. Then one semester Gordon was my teacher. He had ways of explaining all of those complex sounding ideas. I almost figured Calculus out!

Later I photographed him a few hundred times. He was one of my favorite professors (to photograph!). He almost looked like an eccentric teacher. He was a bit awkward around cameras yet quite easy to photograph. By now he has to be in his early to middle 80’s but still looks pretty good.

This week when I took Miriam to the retirement home to get her hair cut, Gordon was there. While I remember him well, yet when a friend asked him recently, he said he did not remember me at all. That is OK.

At the retirement home there was a sing-along going when we got there. Gordon had his violin (I did not know he played) and was sawing out the tune. Not inspired, but OK. Later when we came out of the beauty shop, he was in a group doing exercises. 

When I see him I am always saddened a bit. He finished his PhD long before he was 30 and here he is half a century later, just getting along like the rest of us. 

I am not sure exactly why all of this makes me sad, but I think it has to do with the fact that my heroes of old are no more or getting old. 

My numbers are stacking up too, it is rough to see my diminishing number of heroes in decline. 

This is a portrait of the inside of my head. OK, probably not.

this week

Yesterday I took Miriam to a beauty shop. We have known the beautician for a very long time.

I wanted to pay for her work, but she said: "Would I charge my mother." Sadly she lost her mother a long time ago, and when she was 9 or 10 she spent a lot of time at our house and remembers it all very kindly. She is a dear one.

When it was over Miriam's long hair was shortened a bunch. It is easier to care for and looks good too.

The humidity is higher here than Idaho and her hair is a lot more curly, so it will work well. We think she looks really cute with her new do!



Last spring we bought 10 chicks. They were a day or two old. One died this fall. So we had 9.

Lately King Louie, the rooster (a big beautiful Silver Laced Wyandotte) started attacking people. He is big enough and equipped with spurs that can do damage. I am told that there is no way to break them of that habit. He attacked the women first, then my grandson and Tuesday he made a mistake and attacked me.

Within a few hours, he was listed on FreeCycle. Last night he was whisked away from his haram of 8 hens and transferred across the state line to a place that has just two hens. He will be OK.



And yesterday I bought a new RV stove/range. Today I installed it. WOW

Three burners that turn down to a light simmer. One big burner that gets hot and most wonderful of all, a decent sized oven.

Tonight we had corn bread to celebrate the new oven.  Tomorrow oven roasted potatoes.

Now I can make real bread again.

plaything for the gods

This from Jeff Steel a mailman who took a trip to Greece and Turkey and then wrote a very decent book about it. Into the Pagan Past: A Search for Gods Heroes and a Really Good Greek Salad .

“It sometimes feels as if my life is being guided towards an uncertain point in the future. It is almost as if I am a mere plaything for the gods that my stumbling through t his existence is strictly for their amusement.”

Remember the story of Job? Hmm.