The reponse

Well, Sophie has read the responses from 2.0 but I have not so there is really nothing to report.  Other than the fact that I collapsed last night into a puddle of nothingness, forgot to eat dinner due to extreme fatigue and awoke this morning at 2:00 a.m. and, miracle of miracles, was able to continue sleeping.  So now I am afraid to read those two letters from 2.0, which she claimed to not have read until 10:30 p.m. (that much I did see) and I am sure the letters are as gracious as mine were hostile.  Well, maybe not hostile but a little on the angry side, shall we say.

With some sleep under my belt I am feeling better, save for my stomach which is rebelling from all the caffeinated products I consumed yesterday: from two Cokes, to a handful of Stay Awake tablets and, of all things, chocolate caffeinated mints.  Yes, the tummy is less than happy.

Also, I had a very productive meeting with the psychiatrist, and when I emerged from his office I had sheaves of paper with various and sundry prescriptions, most of which were to help me to sleep a more restful kind of sleep.

Upon arriving home I found Mr. Snay working his electrician's magic on my new porch lights, which, happily enough, change colors on command and right now I have them set to orange for Halloween.  They are very bright and really illuminate my front porch, which is all I expected.  But to have green lights for home football games, blue for Hanukkah, etc., was totally unexpected and a delight.

So, dear friends, the haze has lifted and I am basically afraid to read the letters from 2.0 for fear that they will sink me back to a pit of despair.  I'll save them for next week.  Yes, I am chickenshit about things like that.  I just want a happy and restful weekend and that I shall have...

The letter sent (to be followed, when applicable, by a response)

"As I am overtired and overwhelmed and deep in a pit of depression.  I need one, just one, compelling reason why I should continue seeing you, as much as I get out of our sessions, with you planning to retire in the spring.  I require a great deal of continuity and having lost one therapist very suddenly I really don’t think I can work with a short range goal ending in spring, and then starting all over again with a new therapist.  Yes, I am seeing Dr. Picone tomorrow and will discuss this with him but right now I am hurting and having a great deal of trouble concentrating for work and have totally withdrawn from friends.  I think I know what the answer will be but maybe you can come up with something that will provide me some solace.  Who knows." 

Here I sit, broken hearted, paid a dime...

Alright so it is a brain fart, but one nonetheless.  It's 2:25 a.m. And I just had a major kitchen disaster when I went to get some juice.  I dumped a bowl of juicy pineapple all over the floor and threw today's lunch halfway across the kitchen in response (sorry girls).  Lunch is intact, which is more than I can say for me.  I am in the depths of a deep, dark depression, enhanced, in part, by Hyphen 2.0 and maybe to a lesser extent by the first and original Hyphen.  So here it comes, Sophie, and it is not open to discussion.  I had written Hyphen 1.0 a get well note and she responded with things like "you are in my heart and go gently".   Well, since her accident, which is really the worse fear of any therapy patient, that being the loss of a therapist to conditions beyond control,  I opined to 2.0 that I feel badly about my decision to not see 1.0 when she resumes practice in May...that I preferred to see 2.0, to which she responded that she was going to retire come May and I should go back to 1.0.  Fux and double Fux.  How could she even take me on as a client when she knew she might retire in nine months.  So my sleepless pit of depression deepened.  What am I to do?  How can I continue to see a therapist knowing that come May I am going to have to start anew with a new therapist.  And not seeing a therapist is not an option, being bipolar and all and on medication and under direct orders from my psychiatrist to see a therapist on a regular basis.  A psychiatrist whom I am seeing today, as a matter of fact.  More medication (yes, Soulsucker, the only reason I have a psychiatrist is to maintain my current level of medication...you moron).  So I called Calvin's Mom and asked if she might see me again, even though she was my second  choice at the time, and I'll ask the psychiatrist for a referral to another younger psychologist and then make my mind up, such as it is.   Sent 2.0 an email, delivered at 12:30 a.m., which asked for "one compelling reason why I should continue to see her given her transitory situation".  I feel like I can't go back to see her now, now that the pit is deep and swirling.  I really like 2.0 and thought I could work with her for a while but that is no longer an option.

So how do I feel?  Sleepless for a number of days, in spite of taking sleeping pills before bed.  Yesterday I was constantly cold, which is another feature of my depression.   I finally warmed up in bed so that after the pineapple miscue I was able to bring myself to take a shower.  I have withdrawn from friends and made sure to tell them that it wasn't about them.  I don't know how 2.0 will respond, if she will at all, to my email.  I am anxious, more of a litany of symptoms that are plaguing me now. Music, which is my solace is not right now.  And today, which is now Thursday, we have a meeting of staff to discuss phone ringer settings, an issue I think that has been directly raised by the Magic Plastic Tuna, because , God forbid, she should be annoyed by anything like a phone ringing.  As if her phone doesn't ring several times a day and she engages in long discussions with Medicare or her ex-husband about working conditions in Tech Services.  I believe she is creating a hostile work environment and management is permitting this to happen.  Every time I raise an issue about noise levels and MPT's contribution to that level of noise I get no response.  But let her craziness reign supreme and it is fodder for a Tech Services wide meeting.  I am not of a mood right now to suffer fools gladly and she is on my fools' list.  Depressed and angry, that is I.

So what should you do?  Nothing.  Don't ask me if I want to do something for a diversion.  Don't ask me if you can help.  Don't.  That is my advice.  I will pull out of this in time, as it has already progressed from the tearful stage to a more complex depression and I do see the psychiatrist today.  And he will adjust medication and I will cease seeing 2.0 and merely move on, slowly at first and then more to your liking.  I'll be back...just give me time and space

Somewhat simply somnolent sophmorically speaking said Sue

I have have been very tired all week.  In fact I am on my second Coke in less than two hours and the letters are morphing into words that only have meaning with my eyes half shut, seeing double and typing on a wing and a prayer.  I am just not getting sleep at night, from anxiety attacks that wake me up to the discomfort of the left hip and groin.  And then the little things at night, such as unfinished business or Gonif Cat locking himself in rooms by closing the door behind him in a very loud fashion.  Yesterday I fell asleep at my desk producing a full page of the search mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm and so forth.  I can't say today is better.  Both the self important Urinal is here, as is the MPT, who usually takes Fridays off.  I would think my level of dissatisfaction at this conflation would make me miserable but it has only made me weary and keenly aware that my fingers and eyes are not connecting. And the brain in on permanent vacation.  And miles to go before I sleep. 

I am meeting with Dan the Man at 11:45 for lunch (breakfast) and I hope I am less comatose by then

Sleepless redux

I awoke at my usual time, that being 1:30 a.m., and realized that all these mornings that I have been waking at 1:30 or 2:00 a.m. it has been with a great deal of free floating anxiety.  This morning was the worse and I absolutely could not calm myself, not even with two Valiums.  I was too shaky to even play my mandolin or guitar this morning, something that usually soothes me.  Nope, today I must call How's your day, AKA Hyphen 2.0.  I need to deal with the anxiety issue and find out what is making me so anxious.  Right now I as shaky as a leaf on a tree about to fall into fall.  Must find some balance.  Sophie is out today and I am almost out of Valium and she's my medicine chest of late.  I can't think or concentrate which makes for ideal working conditions.  Fux and double fux

I will be on the phone quite a bit today and I am sure to hear about it from the MPT.  Although she has been getting a fair amount of phone calls relating to her turning 65.  And, yes Virginia, I can hear those conversations above the din of my iPod.  So for calls I must call orthopedist about bone density scan and about getting x-rays of my old fractured hip that is really bothering me these days.  A call to How's your day about anxiety.  A call to JB to change some arrangements for a ride on the 17th of November to the orthopod.    That should be about it.  Soph may call again after she gets a shot for her migraine.  I, today, am bereft of hope that things will ever be normal again, or what seems normal on any given day. 

So hush little baby (momma) don't say a word.  But there isn't going to be a mocking bird.  They have gone south, a departure I should like to make.   Good thing I get lunch with my financial guy this Friday.  Some of the anxiety is over money but this too shall pass.  Worry about this and that and what do you know I am buzzing with anxiety.  Add a dash of depression and you have a wonderful day ahead of you.  Enjoy!

I have been a bit remiss

I haven't written in a while.  Been busy and still not sleeping well, even with the Restoril, which is a very mild, apparently too mild, sleeping pill. Oh, I will sleep well for three of four hours and then I am awake.  Some of this is due to pain in my left hip, the one I broke eleven years ago. The hip aches down the thigh to the knee.  I have four rather large screws in that hip up high but most of the discomfort is down around the knee.  Last night it started yelling at me at 1:30 a.m. and in spite of some aspirin I am still in pain.  Yes, I will tell the orthopedist about this when I see him in November, get new x-rays and see what he says.  It's not miserable pain, just a constant ache.  Oh, well, getting old ain't for sissies

I am flying solo today as Sophie is taking her sister Ethel to get her cataracts taken care of.  Later, after therapy, Sophie's granddaughter is coming over to help straighten up the garage and then we will go to Sophie's. House to get her tablet going.  I have some errands to run on campus today and should get a walk or two in.  Last night 6 p.m. I decided I had to go to Walgreen's and get some lotions and potions. Unfortunately it gets dark fast these days and I was cavorting home in th dark.  I put out some Halloween decorations that are sure to annoy the neighbors.  Motion and sound activated gremlins in the tree and a motion activated candy bowl on the front porch that is in the shape of a spooky tree trunk that growls and moves its arms.  Delightful.  The light up zombies will go out the night of Halloween.  Then I was in bed by 10 and up again at 1:30. What a bitch

I was putting together a list of retirees from the library to have on a mailing list.  One retiree, the Queen of Tempeh, wrote right back and we have been conversing since.  She lost her husband of forty years recently and is so bereft you can feel it tangibly in her emails.   We have had several good exchanges of emails and I set my aunt Marilyn on her as I think they might be able to strike up a friendship.  The Queen is very lonely and misses the give and take of a good discussion and of course this is right up Marilyn's alley, so to speak.  In the meanwhile I will continue to write and offer what solace I can.  But then I was in worry mode for my friends and their spouses.  I guess death, or the idea of it, is never too far from my mind.  In writing to the Queen of Tempeh I realized how many people I have already lost.  So more morbid thoughts followed me.  It was good to get out last night and walk while trying to process this.

The evening as windy but mild.  A good night to set out Halloween decorations.  And, of course, I bought more candy and swiped for myself a small Almond Joy and a smaller Kit Kat morsel.  That was dessert last night.  Maybe tonight the Sherpa, AKA Sophie's Granddaughter, and I can work outside and also get a walk in.  I do enjoy a cavort at dusk.  However it is supposed to rain today so we may just work in the garage and get the lawn furniture put away.  I'd like most of the stuff off of the front porch and put in the garage.  Have her break down boxes and make room in the garage.  And, as they say in the Mikado, I have a little list of stuff that won't be missed.  Get that done and move on to Sophie's tablet and then have another restless and pain-filled evening.  What a bitch.

And that is the theme for today.  Pain and a bitch.

2:42 a.m.

Yes, that is what time it is.  I woke up about an hour ago and have since been unable to fall back to sleep.  So I figured since Sophie is picking me up a little later this morning I would just get up and move to the couch. Got dressed and turned the TV on and am just chilling and resting like my daddy told me I should if I can't sleep.  Just resting the body.  Th mind is going a million miles an hour.  I will go to the music room in a trice and practice my Jamming Jews program.  We are supposed to meet next week and I want s actual playlist I can work off of. I am going to play Somewhere over the Rainbow and Catherine is to sing it but we haven't gotten together yet.  All of this seems so up in the air that it is causing me some stress.  But at least I can go in and grab a guitar and play.  Work on those calluses

What is also causing my wakefulness is the ache in my bad hip, the one I fractured eleven years ago, has chosen now to act up.  But it is hurting the length of the femur.  Ah, for some Restoril.  Mayhap I shall call Picone and ask for another refill.  I have just got to get more than a few hours of good sleep a night.  Otherwise that will set off the cycle of mania and depression.  MUST GET REST!

I did have a good session with 2.0 yesterday and I will look into more mindfulness exercises.  The one nice thing of late is that my new glasses have come in and I can, as the song goes, see clearly now.  But every little, and I mean little, ache and pain in my legs is a potential fracture.  I am obsessed with the osteoporosis DX.  I just can't seem to walk enough to calm me at work.   Maybe I will attempt a walk to get sandwiches for lunch.  I also need to get my labs done in the next few weeks but won't do both tj same day.

But, bottom line, I apologize for belaboring my health issues,  I am just afraid I am falling apart, both physically and emotionally.  Seems like everything of late has been in crisis mode.  From the cats' behaviors to my appliances acting up.  No great mystery here.  Time to pull in and revert to quiet self to minimize damages and just turtle-like my behavior.

But in parting some zen....sometimes you lose, sometimes you learn.

More words of wisdom

Pondered upon tonight

When in danger
Or in doubt
Run in circles
Scream and shout!

I be a poet, eh?  I am also feeling a bit peckish.

Mental

If you haven't figured it out by now you never will.  I just got done with my evening's shopping, my bipolar roller moments of the day.  I figured why not get more cotton percale sheets as they don't wrinkle.  This was instigated by me after discovering that one of the cats, most likely Gonif/Leif, had puked under the covers of the bed.  He likes to crawl under the blankets during the day, burrowing beneath the quilt to a warm position and of course if you must puke why move.  So at 1030 I am changing the bed and reversing the quilt so that all the shedded cat fur is harder to detect.  And two of the three cats are sacked out currently on the bed.  We are watching football, switching to baseball.  Cubs won tonight and here is hoping that they make it to the NLCS.

So my bipolar expression consists of compulsive shopping and lack of sleep, the two now conflated with the ending of the day.  I am tired but not sleepy (nor Doc or Dopey) (and really did the seven dwarfs have those names?).  Well, having given away a few quilts I replenished. my stash tonight with neutral colors that won't show fur as badly as the current quilt.  They were cheap and the sheets are straw color.  It's important that the colors coordinate as I am a whore to style.  I have paintings yet to be hanged that coordinate with my color scheme.  All of this is very important.  Percy and Phyllis will hang those paintings this weekend.  And Percy will install the compulsively purchased sound bar.  And then I am done, or am I.?

Alrighty then.  Gonif is literally climbing the wall standing on tiptoes while balanced on the headboard of the bed, another reason to stay awake as I might have missed that golden vision.  Actually the boys are nearly ready for bed, save for Simcha/Sven who collapsed on the couch hours ago in a move to conserve energy.  The two older boys sleep with me while Simcha visits us later in the evening/morning, usually accompanied by a few well placed hisses from Yankel/Lars.

Gonif is staring at Yankel which usually precedes a tussle.  Tussle, that is a great word.  Sophie and I were exchanging good words today.  Peckish, toothsome, tussle, formication, all good words rarely used of late, to which auto fill has entered Puckish, which is also a good word.  I love words.  I used to keep a dictionary by my bed when I was growing up for fear I wouldn't know the exact meaning of a word and if I didn't know the exact meaning of a word I would look it up compulsively.  I would also jump up and down from the couch to check the dictionary in the den while watching television with Grandma and Dad.  I consider myself something of a wordsmith because of this peculiar habit.  I recall one of my favorite Hanukkah gifts was a Webster's Dictionary.  One day I would like to have my own OED but I really don't have the bookcase room for such a large tome.

Tonight I have my bite splint in as I am wearing down my teeth by constant grinding.  When I first broke my leg I was gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached.  I have almost worn my front teeth down to the nub.  So tonight I am grinding on a plasticine mouth guard.  I usually end up taking it out during the night, misplacing it in my stupor.  Stupor, what a great and descriptive word.

Well the dishwasher has finished running so I might as well take the dishes out and put them away.  Maybe get a juice.  And wait.  Wait for sleep that may or may not come.  Sleep don't fail me now.

No bed-blogging

But I might have well done so the last few nights.  I seem to be in a no sleep mode of operation.  I didn't relax enough to fall asleep much before midnight and got up at 4:15 a.m. so I could practice music.  And you'd think I'd be tired as this has been going on for over a week.  But no.  I am wide awake.  At 11:00 p.m. last night I was rummaging through the kitchen looking for my recipes and success at last, found the recipe for my fabulous linzer torte.  I will be making that Sunday for dinner guests, of which Sophie is one.  I promised to make her a linzer torte for her birthday but was on crutches and baking a torte was not feasible.  So this Sunday is the promised torte.  And a lovely dinner with friends from work, including Sophie of course.  Weather permitting we will sit outside and light the fire pit and break that in before the end of the season.

Yesterday I was very busy.  Read two newspapers, walked (slowly) to the farm market and planted over fifty bulbs while being ably assisted by JB.  When we were done we sat on the porch and had out beverages and enjoyed the beautiful fall day.  I had my hands full with washing clothes as well and that didn't wind up until almost 6:30 at which point I collapsed.

The lack of sleep is nothing new, but the last ten days or so it has gotten worse.  Getting by on three to four hours a night is not great.  Not even good.  Something to discuss with 2.0.  I did, however, get a good hour of practice in and am feeling better about the guitar playing.  Somewhere over the rainbow sounds really good and I can play from memory now.  The Hebrew songs I can play but not sing.  However, Bei Mir Bist Du Schon is sounding great. That was all I had time for this morning.

Looking forward to another blustery day at work.  Hopefully the MPT can shut up long enough that I can do my work.  For someone who constantly complains about ambient noise, from chatter to lawn mowers in the gardens next to the library, she is less than considerate about the noise she creates, and boy does she.  Sad to say that regardless my complaints management sees fit to do nothing.  And, in this regards, MPT takes no responsibility for her own noise.  Additionally, as she sees fit to tell everybody, she catalogs five books a day and the rest of the day is for socializing.  And Management sees no problem with the level of production.  MPT's cataloging leaves a great deal to be desired.  And it seems that a number of catalogers seem to feel comfortable forsaking authority work and leaving the clean up entirely in my hands.  Makes for a long day some days.  I am like the street cleaner after a parade of cataloging, sweeping up the debris and the occasional horse dropping.

So, on four hours of sleep I proceed.  Sophie and Junior Sophie are coming over today after work to work on computers and go shoe shopping in my closet.  Yes, I am giving up the honorific of Imelda to a more reasonable collection of shoes.  Maybe we can grill out tonight if the computer takes that long to set up.  Or I will grill out tonight after dark.  Dark comes so early these days and will come earlier still in a few weeks.  Oh, DST, thy sting is powerful.

Headphones on, volume up!

Must have been

I am bed blogging...that is to say I am sleepless and blogging from bed with the three Viking cats, reflecting on a comment that a friend made regarding my renewed joy for/of life since the de-booting.  And I guess I had been down for the past eight weeks, first from the pain then from being cast, so to speak, an invalid.  Consider that word...in-valid., not valid. That's how I felt.  And while friends were supportive and I was able, after a while, to joke about clunking around in a boot, I was depressed. And weary of having to HAVE so many taking care of me.  That was the hardest part. Some of the  depression was due to the need to find a new therapist, which did resolve itself nicely with the finding of Hyphen 2.0 but the devolution of The Bird, the dread of going to therapy with her and the lack of empathy from her office as I was desperately seeking solace and the leg issue conflating, as it were, made for a miserable ending of my first summer in Sans Souci.  Now, de-booted, I find I have loads to do in the yard to get ready for winter.  And Friday I have forty tulip bulbs coming, a housewarming gift from my aunt in California, that will require planting this weekend,  as it is supposed to be a delightful weekend and a good time to work in the yard.  I also have twenty daffodils bulbs to plant.  JB has offered to help plant and I think Sunday would be the best day.  Friday we have the symphony and Saturday we have football and Bill Maher, the latter at the Wharton.  Yes, Sunday while the cats pillage we shall plant.  And I promise, Sophie, not to overdo it as regards the leg.

October promises to be a busy month socially.  Shows at the Wharton, a Jammin' Jews rehearsal and of course Halloween with the zombie flamingos, legless in flower pots (not the mums however).  I am actually looking forward to Halloween and have sufficient candy for a number of tykes.  Pumpkins, along with the killer mums, populate the front yard.  I tick off things I must do: take in the hoses, the solar powered bird baths, the setting up of bird and squirrel feeding stations, et cetera.  Not to mention the planting of bulbs of the flowering type.  Yes,  this will be a busy weekend.  Sophie is taking me to Kroger's as I actually can shop for myself this week and actually start cooking real meals, not the heat and serve I was doing or the constant ordering in of food stuff.  And I have loads of produce on my shopping list.  I have two dinners for friends planned this month.  As I enumerate the things I have to do I realize that one, I am happy, and two, I am a tad overwhelmed.  All due to the de-booting.

Leif just attacked Lars as he slept...awkward sentence.  The Viking Leif attacked the sleeping Lars as Sven watched with trepidation.  Would he be next?  Not so.  They are sacked out and Lars is camped on the floor a victim of full frontal attack by the smallest cat in the house,  the ten pound Leif, aka Gonif, attacked the twenty five pound Lars, formerly Yankel, while Sven alright Simcha, watched with bemused delight,  I don't know at what point in my convalescing they turned into Vikings I just know they did.  They were Western European for a while, starting with a football Saturday renaming ritual by Eduardo.  Alright, the truth is I was bored and booted and feeling sorry for myself.  So why not have Vikings for cats.  Sophie's cat, Morty, suggested the pillaging option, offering a broad sword for their first pillage.

So it has been an hour and I am not closer to being tired, marveling at the auto-fill suggestions.   Someday I will just let the gibberish stand as is.  Nonsense on the order of Lewis Carroll. Might as well get up.  Sleep did fail me now.  Might as well be productive and read.  Damn Viking cats.

Day One

Day One of the new no boot era.  Time to bell the cat.  People can no longer hear my clunking approach.  I walked more today than I had in a long time.  Topped off by a session of reflexology with the best reflexologist in town.  What a great way to relax.  I also was able to do good today by donating coats and blankets to EVE.  Bird feeders are full and I am wondering if finches migrate in the winter or if I will have them and nuthatches all winter and the need for their special seeds.  All of this felt good and having had a good and busy day at work I am now ready to make a meal and watch the Cubs (who I am rooting for) play the Pirates (who I am rooting for) in a wild card baseball game. How can I lose...or more to the point, how can I win?  So I may end up watching old Law and Order episodes and catch the score in the morning. Four games tomorrow I believe...baseball nirvana.  So all is right with the world.  The Viking Cats (Sven, Lars and Leif) have decided to go out and pillage tonight so it should be a quiet evening.  Hopefully they limited the pillaging to the house, as they are afraid of the outside and I did lie to them.  I told the if we bought this house they could lay on the porch while I read the paper.  Well, the screens need to be replaced and there are two outdoor cats that roam the neighborhood and you know how cats can get. So they will pillage the house. Get treats and go to bed.  Lovely.

Time to make a meal.

Attack of the killer Mums

Yep, I gots 'em.  The biggest mums on the block.  So big, in fact, that a couple stopped their SUV and marveled at the sight, inquiring as to where I purchased them.  Actually, they magically appeared on day, much to my surprise.  Too big?  I think not.  Here is one of the two giant mums.

Bootless in East Lansing

Not quite Sleepless in Seattle but something even better.  For the first time since July 20th I am without leg pain and finally bootless.  Happy, happy, joy, joy.  I am walking a little gingerly, favoring the right leg.  But it is a bootless leg and I am happy.  Now if only my new glasses would come in I could quit doing my best pirate imitation so I can focus.  As it is my right eye is closed as I see double with both eyes open.  It's hell getting older but it beats the option.

Oh, what a day.  From having a slip and fall at work and worrying for four hours if I had injured my leg and nursing a hurt elbow (nice and purple thank you) but spilling only a little water from the cup I was carrying.  Sweating out the X-Ray. Being told I could wean off crutches, which I told him I already had done, and weaning off the boot, which. I had been doing at home, I took the boot off and put on the shoe I wanted for so long.  Over eight weeks of pain and crutches.  Almost passing out at work a few times and missing a Hyphen 2.0 appointment and feeling guilty when she called me the next day to see how I was doing.  Oh, what a time I had.  And all the great friends I have who helped out, from doing laundry and making a bed, to collapsing boxes and carting them away.  And a special thanks to Sophie Handelman and Ethel Nussbaum who did my grocery shopping for those eight weeks and more.  And cleaning litter boxes and feeding the boys.  Great friends.

So, after the debooting JB and I got me some lunch and then we went pumpkin shopping.  Home again and she, good friend that she is, helped me get clothes around to donate to EVE along with some blankets.  Them we had a field day watching MSNBC and doing our own commentary.  Off again To see Hyphen 2.0. I had what I thought was a good session.  I still  need to process the loss of the original Hypen but that will be for next week, along with a diatribe about my rat bastard cousin.  And need to get around to a lot of stuff at the house, but for right now I will be gentle with myself.  I think I will visit Jerry tomorrow and see if Sophie will go with me.  More closure.

But for now, save for needing glasses that are forthcoming, things are good.  Life is good.  I need to do a great deal of work outside the house.  Get ready for the dread of winter which may be bearable in the new house as it will be a new type of winter.  Giant mums populate the front yard along with pumpkins.  And the zombie flamingos.  I am set for Halloween.

I feel like I need to close with something on a deeper level.  I have two sacked out cats in bed and one on the couch.  Trigger finger is still triggering so no guitar playing tomorrow morning.  No jamming Jew.  Alright deep thought.  No matter where you go, there you are.

Today is THE day

Or it better be.  The boot must go.  As will the crutches.  And, no, I am not going to run or even walk a marathon the first day out.  Maybe not even the second day.  Right now I can't even manage the crutches with the trigger finger on my left hand.  I had a steroid injection at the base of the finger yesterday and it is, to say the very least, a little sore.  I am wearing a full Hyphen 2.0 outfit today as it is also therapy day.  So I am looking, to say the very least, sharp.  But the boot must go, to be placed in the basement along with other memories.  Yes, today is the day.  Two shoes, no limping.

I think I am due for a better streak in the coming months.  It has been since July 20th when the leg first headed south without me and I was walking on it for another two weeks before it was cloaked in said boot.  Ah, the pain, the sixty-four Oh, Gods I uttered at lunch one day when the pain was at its worse as counted by Sophie Handelman.  The day I nearly passed out at work and couldn't make it to therapy.  A few days after the first orthopedist opined that I didn't need to wear a boot.  Jackass.  

And just now to add insult to injury I wiped out on the way back from getting water.  My right leg went out from under me in a smooth motion.  I went down on my right elbow and hip, without, I say with injured pride, spilling the water I was carrying.  What a way to start out a day.  Fux and double fux.

So that said, the day has to get better.  Here's to bootless, tootless Tuesday.

Sorry for the downer

Well, as I was processing the events of the past week I may have waxed maudlin.  In order that I might lighten your day and mood I repeat the words of the late Chuckles the Clown "a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants".  Or more to the point, as Sophie Handelman oft reminds me, Unicorns have rainbow farts.  Just remember that the next time you see a rainbow, a unicorn or pass gas.  Rainbow farts.  Not Skittles, but Unicorns.

And now we resume our regularly scheduled day.

Closure of a sort

Last night as I was pondering the universe, like you do, I finally felt a sense of closure regarding Jerry.  The whole situation of mixing his ashes with the composting materiel and the placing of the mixture in the hole where the tree was planted somehow seemed surreal at the time.  Last night I bid adieu to my old buddy Jerry and his Jerryisms of misspeak.  My favorite Jerryism was when he spoke about his mother who was in the hospital at the time and he said "she's stabled but she still is a little horsed".  Or his reference to his antihistamine at the time, Trinalin, as Trinidad.   His love of a few "questionable sites" on the internet.  The ones I had to shout over as I entered his apartment to check in on him.  And, finally, that fateful day I came home, full of good news, and checked in on him only to find his lifeless body on the floor.  That was horrific for me.  And I supposed for him as well.  He had been fading, his health failing, which prompted me to check in on him daily to make sure he ate and had enough beer and cigarettes to last him for a few days, but I never expected the final view of him, laying there on the floor, looking rather peaceful, I must say, in repose, in death.  Now I have his memory and a visible sign of his life in a beautiful sugar maple tree near Beaumont Tower across the street from the library.  A tree I think I will visit in a few minutes just to see it and tell him a goodbye that felt incomplete a few days ago.  Reverend Percy did an outstanding service and I keep reflecting on some of his words of solace.  A living testament to Jerry's commitment to MSU.  I feel like I need a few moments alone with the tree and Jerry to really say goodbye.  It seemed easier with my parents.  The closure I sought with my dad came the day of the funeral.  Somehow seeing his body wrapped in a shroud laying there was numbing but also final.  That service was quick and to the point and we said our goodbyes.  I did have a nice number of family there with me and paid for a luncheon post service.  That was awkward but no one wanted to come to the old house in Detroit so we moved from Ferndale for the funeral to Southfield for a luncheon, where I sat with his brother and my cousins and we broke bread.  I was numb but cognizant of the fact of his passing.  With Jerry, until this week, the process seemed incomplete with me moving him around the condo, giving him to Toni when I moved, moving him to Sans Souci for a visit, moving him to the Percys' and finally opening the box containing his ashes and mixing them with the compost.  That, too, was numbing.  But last night it seemed finally done.  He is at rest with the earth and part of the living earth and, as such, his memory lingers on.  I rarely get to Ferndale now to see my parents, really only when there are funerals in the family.  But I do stop at their graves and leave a pebble or two as a token of my visit.  I may place a pebble near Jerry's tree today and really say my final goodbyes.  But I think after daybreak I will go out to the tree and just commune with nature and Jerry and misspeak myself in remembrance.  As Jerry might opine "this too shall past".  Past it has, as well as passed.  Goodbye old friend.