Rainy days

rain

dripping down the window pane

maybe one of the oldest blessings on earth

this water that was here before time

and thru time

my time

and

your time

touching everything from

dinosaurs

to

you

my little zandersaurus

Perhaps

Perhaps it is old age.

Perhaps it is COVID-19.

Perhaps it is simply who I am.

But life seems like a cold spring day when I look back over it.

Gray, rainy, an occasional burst of thunder,

Intermingled with the most beautiful, wondrous, glorious bursts of sunshine and love anyone could ever imagine.

Revelations

I am doing the ten day, ten photos, with no explanations, on being a mother for Facebook, so I went back through tons of photos one of my sons scanned for me.

I found way more than ten, but very few of me because I am the one who took pictures in our family.

Today I posted one of the few with me in it and I had an awful revelation. I loved the woman in that picture. She was beautiful! She was the way I always imagined wanting to be. Truly, all my life I wanted to look like her.

How could I never have realized I did?

Growth?

Remember the unjust horrors of childhood after five when school brought you new stories and fun games served on a tray of reality?

The fairy tale belief that you were Clara from the Nutcracker, Wonder Woman, Baryshnikov and Superman, all wiped out by the presence of other beauties and beasts?

Former routines as comedians and comediennes failed among the harsh audiences of peer groups?

Stepping down as the princess or prince of the universe was a jolting experience that no one seemed to notice, not even you, except in your innermost heart.

It was:

Accepted!

The world was no longer your oyster.

There were standards of beauty so thin and tests of agility so brutal that they immediately began to separate the in crowd, the leaders, the athletes, the cool kids, from others who lacked things they had no control over.

And if anyone failed to notice these things there was always someone eager to point them out.

Endowments given by benefactors ignorant of the purpose of parenting to children who presented with a need to hurt others in order to feel better than.

I thought our generation would do better, but it takes such a small amount of darkness to corrupt a whole new world.

Who we are

The strangest, perhaps saddest, and sometimes best, thing about this pandemic is how it brings out parts of us we generally do not reveal to most other people.

It is like an archeological dig into people's psyches.

Fear and frustration appear at levels heretofore unimagined.

The desire to strike out at whatever is closest appears with alarming regularity.

Empathy and kindness disappear from some and rise to the top with others.

Sifting through the debris that is dribbled out in amazing quantities from our so called leaders confuses everything.

It is difficult to figure out what will be historically useful and what is simply catastrophically representative of who we are.

Cricks

Yesterday I woke up with a crick in my side. Crick, that's the only word I can think of that really fit, unless maybe a hitch.  As the day wore on, it became more painful until any movement, the slightest yawn, or deep breath became excruciating. On top of being so painful it was also exhausting, but I couldn't lie down unless I lay on my right side with a pillow tucked up against the sore place and if I moved, again it was excruciating.

After being up most of the night, moving from bed to chair, even sitting up on the side of the bed and leaning over my desk chair, trying to sleep without pain, I called my doctor. They are not treating people in the office during this quarantine, but he called me back for a consultation over the phone. After an exhaustive conversation he prescribed a muscle relaxer and pain pill I can use till Monday. If that doesn't resolve the issue, he will send me for tests.

My daughter brought me the prescriptions around noon and I've had two doses. I guess there is some improvement. I was able to put on my big comfy velour and fleece sweatshirt with the hood and prop myself into and onto a series of pillows and sleep some. That was such a huge relief. This shirt is like a blanket and I can tuck my hands into the front pocket or even the hood.

When I woke up I felt like I was being slowly reborn into a sane existence. I could lie flat on my back fairly comfortably. My arms found a place they could rest. Even my legs relaxed a bit. I lay there savoring it as long as I could, but then my back began to hurt and I had to get up.

Now it is the middle of the night and I am propped up in a big recliner, wearing my shirt, using a heating pad and drinking water. My side is disturbingly painful again, but not excruciating.

Of course with all this time not being able to sleep, I have considered all the possibilities from pulled muscle vacuuming the rug, to kidney stones, liver damage, even kidney damage. Now the trick is to stop considering and making it worse than it probably is.

White rabbit world

Is it old age that gobbles up energy and enthusiasm, or is it circumstances in life style?

Growing up around lots of older women, my grandmother had a "Guest Home" I spent a lot of time talking to women who, looking back, I assume were mostly in their eighties and nineties. They told fantastic stories about their lives, but most of them also slept a lot.

I am not quite up to that age yet, but suddenly during the quarantine period I find myself almost helplessly sleepy at times. I can barely keep my eyes open while watching a program I really like, or playing Words with Friends, or doing a crossword puzzle. It's not that I am not getting enough sleep. I am probably getting way too much.

I talk to people on the phone several times a day. I communicate via email and text, so I am far from being as isolated as I have occasionally been in the distant past, but this is the longest I have gone without seeing people face to face.

This morning I got up, after at least eleven, maybe more, hours of sleep. I had no idea what day it was. I had no desire for my morning cups of coffee. I really only wanted to go back to sleep. Of course it is another dreary, rainy, day out and that doesn't help, but I know this is not a good thing.

Thank heavens Bestest called. During that talk I was able to wake up, make some coffee and after we hung up I have felt much more normal, but this is a little disconcerting.

My sister called to tell me about an article she read that she thought sounded like us, or more specifically, according to her, me. It was about auto immune diseases and how they effect a body. But the caveat was that there is really nothing you can do to get rid of it. You just learn to live with it.

I have been doing that my entire adult life. When things get super bad my doctor gives me prednisone, but that is a last ditch resort and the last two times it barely helped. Stress, of course, makes all of this worse.

I don't feel stressed right now, or at least I didn't until the last few days, but circumstances like not realizing I called my son, or Bestest while napping are bothersome. I also have seen things out of the corner of my eye which are not here.

I feel like Alice falling into a dark Wonderland, but I suspect it is just this quarantine.

And the winner is

I look at Facebook and see people still playing the same old games they have played for eons.

It's the old story of the wife who stands at the fence post parrying back and forth with her neighbor over who has the worst life and husband. Or the husband who does the same at his favorite bar. It's one of those games where the winner loses -- big time.

There is more to marrying someone than having a fancy wedding, or beautiful car and more to picking a life partner than they way they look to you or the world.

When your whole life is a part time job, drinking at the local watering hole and vicariously loving someone else's life on television, you are still basically children  You aren't using your own life experiences to make solid choices. The game just started and you're already on the downhill slope.

Women and men have had a chance to know other things. They have accomplished things that required years of work and planning. They realize that much of their life depends on how they approach it, not what is willy-nilly dished out to them. They have some idea of what they can control and what they can't. In short, they have a broader base to build on.

If everything you needed to know, you learned playing Poker, you are in trouble. At least play Bridge, where you have to learn to play with a partner. But it is over simplified to think people are going to play the same games forever. Human beings have good days and bad ones. Your job, if you choose to be happy, is to pick a partner whose ideals are in sync with your own.

Or, better yet, stop playing games with your future. You don't have to spend your life with someone else, but if you do, consider the fact that you will only spend part of your time playing or in bed with them. It's the rest of the time that's gonna kill you. Choose wisely.

Give yourself a chance

Sometimes the things that feel the worst, or make things the hardest, stem from associations more than reality. Given a little time forced change may even ease people into a new and better reality.

I have two siblings left. Both are eligible for retirement and neither one are taking it just yet. One says she is truly terrified that she will not have enough money and the other is waiting for two more years to get a certain amount of money. But I believe both had a fear that not working will diminish them in ways unrelated to money. The generation before our parents lived through the depression and had an almighty ingrained fear of not having enough -- of anything --  money, food, pride, respect, etc.

They somehow came up with the idea that if you worked and made money you were better than. You then had the right to judge and be critical, or complain about, almost everything, because you were one of the best, the working wounded, the hero who got out there and worked even if you had to tie a Ben-Gay soaked rag around your forehead to do it. In fact, that was almost a badge of honor.

Retiring terrifies them. It means the possible loss of their excuses for not doing things they don't want to do.(I have to work.) It means being responsible for filling their own time in ways that make them feel worthy.

They have been at home now for nearly a month and one of them is amazed that she is finding a routine she likes. (Of course the pandemic now gives her the perfect excuse for not doing what she does not want to do, so she's still off the hook. Imagine just choosing not to do those things? Why would that be so bad?)

The other has discovered he actually likes working at home. Instead of being trapped at a desk somewhere while waiting for something to take effect, he can now go screw in the wall boards of his extra room, or paint the ceiling, or work in his yard. Sometimes he even takes a long walk right in the middle of the day! It's okay. This idea of retirement might not be so bad after all.

I don't have any trouble not being paid to work. I've done it both ways and infinitely prefer to work at home. I, raised my children, made their clothes, rode bikes, read books, have always felt free to go down rabbit holes in a search for information just because I was curious. What scares me is a lack of. A lack of things I once took for granted like toilet paper, or bread, because it harkens back to a time when my husband would get angry and take away the money I needed to buy these things. I had to go to friends, or neighbors until he either changed his mind, or felt shamed enough to give in.

Human beings are adaptable. We can learn to live with almost anything and still thrive.

If we only give ourselves a chance.

Little things mean a lot

I use Shipt to order my groceries delivered during this pandemic. The shoppers are very conscientious and I appreciate them putting their lives and the lives of those they live with on the line so that I do not have to go to the store.

That being said I was giving up hope of ever buying toilet paper again. I tried to order it, but all the online stores said it was unavailable. My daughter's mother-in-law bought some at Sam's and my daughter gave me two packages, but the local stores hardly had any and you had to get there early if you wanted to buy it.

Yesterday when I went to order my groceries online the toilet paper once again said, not available, but I ordered it anyway.

When my Shipt Shopper brought my groceries this morning she brought toilet paper! Same brand I ordered, just another sort. I could have cared less about the sort. It is sad how happy I was to see that big ole package of toilet paper I used to hate carrying from my car to the house, sitting there by my door!

And it is amazing how much stress that removes from my life. Now when I need to use the bathroom I don't put it off until the bitter end in order to conserve toilet paper.

I never thought I would find myself quarantined for a pandemic, but I think it felt even more surreal having to ration out the toilet paper.

Entrapment

Somehow this quarantine felt more normal
when the world was barren
frozen,
gray and bleak.
hibernating.

Now with Easter blooms
and flowering trees
sunny days
blue and gold
awake

It feels wrong
like a trap
honeyed
enticing
calling

Step into the hinterlands
where life's a blur
breathless
gasping
a cruel joke.

Feelings

People are tired of this sheltering in, thinking it means someone else. Not them, Not their town. Not their people.

Angry not to be permitted to congregate in death squads of two or more. Seething because someone dare infringe upon inalienable rights.

Hating the bleeding heart liberals who find this behavior sensible.

How many fond memories of drinking with friends will fill the void left by the death of a gasping mother?

What does it feel like to see your niece, who you didn't know had asthma, die on a ventilator at the age of two?

Death by association.

It's a terrible way to be a murderer.

And a worse way to die.

The gift

I feel it cover my shoulders

a gesture made in kindness

 heavy

dark.

altering

Separating me

negative highlight

less than

I am less than

small

dark

unsubstantial

inconsequential

Projection

History has a way of projecting it's own viewpoint over everything it records. Whatever the current beliefs are show up as truths. These truths are well documented and easy to believe because most of us are geared to think the way we think.

When they first found King Tut's tomb, he was seen as a boy. Probably weak, maybe sickly, not particularly powerful, more of a puppet king. It seemed reasonable to folks at that time. After all, he was from the past, from an African culture, of a different color skin, you know those people who aren't quite as smart, savvy, or strong as people like us.

Now they are unpacking the rest of the objects from his tomb it appears he was probably a very powerful warrior king. A boy was a man at 14 in Egypt and he lived to be 19 and now they think it is possible he died in battle. Of course this is from our point of view in a very warlike world now. Who knows the truth?

Same thing for the Mayas. We once ascribed very ritualistic, simplistic mediation to their ways of dealing with conflict. Now, thanks to a new way of photographing land, called lidor, we have found what we believe are Mayan fortresses and other things that point to them also being very powerful warring people. But again, this is being evaluated from our present war mongering culture.

I wonder what history will make of our time? Our strutting, posturing, pouting, head of state, who cannot really read, does not appear to think logically and is a compulsive liar always looking for ways to self-aggrandize or blame a scapegoat?

Holey

I had a peripatetic childhood.

I just heard that word

Peripatetic, like a medical term

Gauzy

Covering a wound

Letting light in

Allowing room to heal

Covering up the holes

Peripatetic

The unpredictable

Quarantine is a new idea for many of us. We did not grow up during the diphtheria quarantines of the 1920s. Many of us barely remember when polio was a dire threat, so having both a quarantine and a disease that we cannot vaccinate against is new and novel and probably unsettling in ways we haven't even completely thought about.

Long periods of isolation are not as bad as they once were due to phones, computers, internets and social apps like Facebook, but they still allow time for us to notice the difference and I'm sure it makes a difference.

In regular times I socialized because it was the thing to do, because I could, because I liked to write about it, because I wanted to stave off the isolation of old age I had seen creep up on older relatives.

Everyone has their own reasons for going out into the world or mingling with other people.

For some mad socializing is a way to avoid being alone with your feelings. For others it is a way to serve. It can be a way to make money. It can be anything, but whatever it is, the lack of it affects us differently and even those of us who feel they almost enjoy it find ourselves feeling the difference about now.

We are not stars isolated in deep space, burning brightly for eons in our natural state. We are people, created because two other people got together in some way, generally dependent on other people for some form of food or protection in a world that works best when all the cogs move in some kind of order.

Right now that order is pretty much unknown and unpredictable.

Making babies

I dreamed I went to the place where they made babies psychologically ready for their upcoming parents. It was a strange black and white line of people who looked like surgical nurses in masks and hats, standing behind a long table draped in paper. It was like a production line of crawling naked babies who were picked up and cuddled then sent on to be tossed in the air and made to giggle, or in other places shaken and made to cry, or sleep. Creating their psyches was very involved.

Of course all these babies were round, fat, cute, crawlers, not newborns, but that is the way of dreams I suppose.

At the end of the line of people the babies just crawled on forever it seemed. I tried to catch an adorable one that I thought was going to be mine, but I could never quite keep it from crawling away.

Happy Easter

As a Rabbi once said, "Who doesn't believe in six foot white rabbits?"

Easter for me, during this quarantine, was going to be ham, au gratin potatoes and deviled eggs, but the Shipt guy left the mayonnaise, mustard and vinegar somewhere. I got credit for it, but not the products. Then my daughter was going to drop it outside my house, but she forgot it too. So, no deviled eggs.

I did get a very nice card from her though.

In the grand scheme of things that is really not terrible, but it is disappointing.

My day has been nice. Both Bestest and my son have called and are keeping in touch via texting. I did get to wave at my daughter through the window when she put my card on my door. Life is much worse for many other people in this world, but even not using that as something to compare to, my life is good.

I have a comfortable apartment, good food, good books to read and Internet comes with this apartment, so I have lots of movies and television to watch.

Living

We only have so much control over the people in our lives and that is the way it should be, but it is also why childhood is so important.

Those early years are the ones we use to give our loved ones the foundations they will need to survive in this world. It is where we teach them our values, our morals, our ethics, our methods for learning and discerning right from wrong, our way of dealing with dissension. Our way of making choices that come up in periods of coerce-ment, or bullying, or even just public preferences that may clash with what we already believe.

These things are just as important as manners, dress codes, and driving a car. Maybe more so in the long run.

Because we really don't have any control over our loved ones once they reach the age where they feel like adults. Then they can choose to go along with us. Or not.

Our desire to protect them, well meaning as it may be, really should not be their prime source of guidance. If we were good parents, they will have internalized that and now they have to make their own decisions.

Adults carry their own code for living: with them, within them and that is as it should be, always there, always accessible, always in process.

A different dimension

My life feels like it has moved onto one of those magic screens you could buy in the fifties.

You stuck the thing over your television screen and the first thing that happened was a slight distortion and dimming of the program underneath.

Then they drew something and you could draw something and it felt like you had entered another dimension where life existed in only two dimensions.

Staying in has that feel for me. I see people out in their driveways sunning, or watching their children ride bicycles. They move their chairs around, reposition blankets like they are at the beach instead of on concrete, and load or unload cars. Mail trucks come. Fed Ex trucks buzz by. The occasional Amazon delivery parks in front, but it is all viewed through my window, half of which has a screen on it so it is slightly out of focus.

People drop things off, or pick them up right outside your door. Nobody rings your doorbell and intrudes upon your private space. I like that.

People call. I haven't talked to so many people in a day's span in ages.

It is truly a different dimension in living and while it is very different it is actually okay. It narrows life down to what is really important and gets rid of both irrelevant people and irrelevant intrusions.

Starting over

Some of us are uniquely suited for starting over and whether that comes from experience, or nature I will never know.

I remember moving to Champaign, Illinois with my parents and siblings.It was no big deal at the time. My world at that age was inside the house with those people I knew and loved best and since that didn't change it was fine.  It did change when we left Champaign though.

We  stayed with my grandma while my dad went to Germany with his dad and I heard my mother tell someone, "She asked me if now she has made friends, would we move." She was talking about me and I knew it, but even at the time I didn't remember saying that. Those were my mother's feelings being spoken in the best way she knew how. The friends she was talking about were two children, Julie and Paul, who lived across the street from us in Champaign. We had played twice, once at my house and once at theirs. However those words did influence how I felt over the years as my parents moved at almost every critical time in my life and I had to keep starting over.

The ongoing knowledge was that I knew the people in my family were more important than where I lived, so I adjusted. Then after spending thirty years with my husband we divorced. I found myself almost fifty and starting over again. The biggest difference this time was that my children were grown, my mother was dead, my dad remarried and I was alone. Still I had close friends and the transition was actually easier than I had expected.

In 2008 I moved across country to be near one of my children and that ended in 2010. I found myself almost sixty and starting over once more. I remember moving back here and  sitting in my apartment with my dog, a blow up mattress, a folding chair, a tv tray and a ten inch television. Starting over!

I am now firmly entrenched in being a single woman isolated due to this quarantine, but I know how to do this.

Starting over is my forte.

Silver threads among the gold

Day whatever of the quarantine.

It has been a month since my hair was cut. I generally get it cut every three weeks just for the shape and since I am in the process of growing out the artificial color, this new growth looks strange.

It's a sort of silver and gold, or like the old song, silver threads among the gold, but while in the right light that can be very pleasing, in general it looks tacky.

I thought about shaving my head and letting it grow out during this time, but since I have no skills at shaping it, that sounds iffy. I might just look like a mad porcupine in a couple of weeks.

So I am trying a different tactic. I am trying to just cut the gold off with the idea that it might retain some of the shape. It's not too bad right now, but I have really only done the part I can see. I haven't had the courage to try the back yet, or even really look at it with a mirror.

In our efficient modern world

There's a new world coming and it's not the promised land. Although it really isn't a surprise either.

We are under an order to shelter in place which means staying home unless it is absolutely necessary.

Last fall my 6 year old iPhone's battery died and I replaced it with a used one they thought would last about a year. Today, out of nowhere it decided to die, which meant I had no phone.

I never dreamed of this happening. I didn't even know if the phone stores were open, but when I went on line I called the one I go to and got all kinds of recorded messages about bill pay, etc. Then they said if you wanted to make an appointment you could do that. So I went through all the steps and was assigned to go in at 12:30.

I arrived and there was a sign on the door that if you were there for curbside service to stay in your car and call (It was the same number I called with all the automated messages, including the one that assigned my appointment.) I went up and opened the door and three people at the back of the store leaped up saying. "You need to leave now and go back to your car."

"But I have an appointment I said, standing right inside the door.

'"We are not taking appointments. Why are you here?"

"My phone died and I need a new one."

"Wait in the car while I call my manager and see what he says."

I left and sat in my car. There was another car parked right next to me. Waiting too. About ten minutes later someone brought that car a sack and they left. Another car pulled in and the passenger got out and went into the store, to probably the same reception I had received. He came back out and got in his car.

Now an employee wearing one black glove came out and asked to see my Driver's License. She scanned it and said she would call me in a few minutes. About ten minutes later she called and we began the long laborious process of buying a phone I couldn't see and could only explain what I needed. She was hard to hear and hard to understand. I am sure she needed as much patience as I did to get through that. We repeated and repeated and repeated answers and questions and finally I knew I was buying a red iPhone for $20 a month via my monthly bill. We eventually decided I was also buying a black otter box to hide my red iPhone of some undetermined style then her phone cut out.

I sat there wondering where we were in this strange process for another ten minutes when she came out to show me the free accessory I got, was black okay? It was a braided charging cord. I have several, but I took the free one because she said I'd be silly not to. She scanned my credit card and went back in. Ten minutes later she came out with a sack and my phone in her hand. She showed me how to open it, but since I didn't know my apple password she couldn't download the Apple tech application I needed to set it up. She said she made an appointment for me and they would call, but be sure I downloaded that app first. The sad truth is that because of the way the parking spaces are, there were two employees and two customers in cars all standing on top of each other in the front lot.

I went home, uploaded the app, then waited. The phone call finally came and I answered, but all that was there was a ringing, as if no one had picked up on the other end. I listened to that for nearly ten minutes before hanging up.

I tried setting up my phone without them, but it was going to be a laborious process to put in all my contact information. Then I got a text saying did I want an appointment to set up my new phone. I said yes and they said they would call at 3:50.

This time it worked,. Finally. In the end. My new phone was supposedly set up about 4:30, only there was no sound when anyone called or texted. I could hear ring tones on the phone. I looked for the mute button, but it didn't seem to be where my old one was, so I began another long drawn out process of calling my daughter and having her text or call me back to see if there was any ring tone. There was not. I could answer texts and calls, but only if I saw my phone light up.

Her boyfriend finally helped me find the mute button, which was on and almost impossible to see in this otterbox.

I have a working phone! But I still could not access Facebook on Microsoft Edge because when Facebook gave me the new Facebook, mine quit responding. It is almost midnight and I finally fixed that about thirty minutes ago. Which is nice because I began that process yesterday!

(Just for the record, I did try to buy a phone online before I went through all this.)

I'm gonna sing you a love song

Tonight Bestest played a concert from his living room to raise money for out of work performers. He worked very hard preparing and was afraid no one would watch.

I was right. A lot of people watched and listened and loved every minute of it.

It was beautiful music sung with a wonderful voice, a great guitar and just the right amount of humor and information.

People sent all kinds of love during the concert from all over the country and even from out of this country.

After years of people being rough, tough and mean and months of people being sick and dying from this pandemic, it was a much needed gift to spend this Friday evening drowning in love and good will.

Scarcity

I find myself being frugal in ways that don't really matter during this quarantine and I think it is a throwback to former times.

During a water shortage years ago I had to conserve water. We could only wash clothes on certain days and could not wash the car, or water the lawn at all.

During a gas shortage I remember needing to be sure we had enough gas to get where we needed to go, including the long wait line to buy gas.

During a snowstorm where I was trapped in my house for five days without heat, lights, internet, or phone once my battery died, I worried about running out of candles and having my pipes freeze so there would be no water. I used that water for many things, one of which was boiling it on a gas stove for some heat.

On camping trips in desert areas we had to conserve all water usage. No showers, frugal dishwashing.

Now that my personal biggest concern is running out of toilet paper, I should be really comfortable. After all I have enough toilet paper for a few weeks and I do know how to live without it, but I still find myself thinking:

Air the bed out you might not be able to wash the sheets, or your clothes.
Don't waste any water brushing your teeth.
Be careful of how much electricity you use and running the heater.
Don't eat too much bread, you might not be able to get more very soon.

It's that old scarcity thing, which of course should not be a problem right now except for people who are totally unconcerned about others and hoard things.

If life is long enough

Depending on birth order, number of years in between and other various variables, siblings can be very diverse creatures.

My sister and I are two years apart. I am the oldest of four. She is the second oldest. We have two younger brothers, but the total span between our youngest brother and me is only five years.

I walked on my tiptoes for several years because I wanted to be a ballerina and was hoping that would help me become one. My sister, on the other hand, taught herself to walk pigeon-toed because her friend was pigeon-toed and people worried about that.

I tried to impress my teachers and parents by being the perfect student. My sister made crazy mistakes because people laughed. (At least I hope that was why.)

I think a lot of rules are personally pointless, but I am pretty much a rule follower. My sister thinks rules are Gospel, but she seldom pays much attention to them if they are inconvenient.

When I was trying to get attention, I played musical instruments, or wrote poetry. When my sister wanted attention she got asthma. Both worked, but we almost moved to Arizona for my sister's asthma until she wanted a cat. Once she got the cat there was no asthma for over two years, because that meant the cat would go..

Soon we had those inevitable labels that families give children. I was "the brain." She was the "social butterfly." Like many children we dutifully tried to keep up the image.

And to this day we are pretty much the same people we always have been. I have tried to be more social and now that we are both older I tend to be just that because I live in a larger city and belong to a club of like minded women. She got a nursing degree and still works past retirement age because that is what she has done all her life.

I still turn to writing things  (like this blog) when I want attention and she still tends to get sick, or make goofy errors (like severing the cord of her electric hedge trimmer over and over while using it) but we are both still growing so who knows how this will end if we live long enough.