Ron worked today.  Still raining.

We made a nice supper: baked haddock, salad, zucchini/onion pie, roasted kale.

I cleaned up my email accounts, deleted over 2,000 unread emails.

How-To

Yellow Sweet Clover

Extended family can’t relate to an adoptee as freely or as completely as they can “one of their own”.  It’s nature’s way.

Funny how no one acknowledges the place of extended family in adoption, only the Triad.  As if grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins aren’t important.

Up at 5.  Ron stayed home today.  PT this afternoon.

Ron spent the morning squaring away his passwords.  If I had a dollar for every time…..

He did a big shop in the afternoon.  We had pizza for supper to give the kitchen a break.

It rained pretty much all day, so I didn’t go out.  Timid.

Affordable housing advocates usually justify their point of view with the squishy concept of “diversity”, whatever that means, but otherwise fail to explain how the greater community benefits from permanent “affordable” housing. Except, of course, for tourist industry and retail moguls who need cheap labor. Short-term (a year or less) assistance makes sense to help people through a rough spot, but most people on Planet Earth make our homes where we can afford to live, and not necessarily where we’d like.

Rentals scarce on Cape Cod

Finally, I can count the days until the split comes off on one hand: 5 days and 5 nights.

I’ve been keeping up with exercises, moving carefully and eating healthily.

Smokey stopped by this morning, briefly.  I think he was looking for Ron, who was downstairs doing laundry.

Gave Stoneman Center a glowing review yesterday.

Got help from Mac with routing the MVC app.

Feeling better today.  Did a little off-roading (mailbox and gardens) with the scooter.

Not sure why I feel this way, but I do.  I’ve not been comfortable asking for help for a long time.

I am worn out with asking Ron for help.  He’s done so much these past weeks.

Theme from “The Sterile Cuckoo”, about young love that didn’t work out, describes an idyllic Saturday in elegiac terms.

The message we’re supposed to get is that some things are too good to last.  Typical of 1960’s cynicism.

Not true for us.

Ron helped me in the shower.  I was a grubby mess and hurt all over this morning.

Had yet another call from yet another person who punted yet again on my question about left heel pain.

We had boiled dinner tonight.  Put the meat (O’Donnell’s Flat Cut Corned Beef Brisket) and potatoes in the slow cooker around 10-ish.

It’s cool and overcast, very pleasant.  Smokey dropped by.  Ron bought more treats for him last night.

I’ve had at least a dozen phone calls over the last couple of weeks from third parties who are “following up” on my surgery.

They are experts at kicking the can and very little else.

They also talk and talk and talk, not allowing me to answer their questions or ask any of my own.

Today, I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she was channeling Donald Trump.  She seemed surprised and apologized in a somewhat sarcastic tone.  I answered “I’m sure you are”, matching her sarcasm tone for tone.

I’m tired of people insisting on making appointments for which Lord knows, we might have to pay.  Every “you won’t be charged for this” is accompanied by a written document that says, in fact, we will be charged if for some reason insurance doesn’t cover the service.

I realized pretty early on that the people who did the best job taking care of me were the CNAs, housekeepers and dietary aides.  Unlike the college degree holders, these fine people have no financial axe to grind or power trip to nurture.

This morning, I was hurting all over, including this stupid left heel.  Left a message for Boyle’s Medical Assistant.

Ron helped me shower and shampoo.  He’s been a champ throughout.  I am very lucky.