Sunday, January 25, 2026

     Cold foggy morning. Heater is on. Drafty house. Blanket pulled up to my chin. Flowers blooming everywhere. Magnolia tree and acacia trees flourishing. Maybe the beginning of allergy season.

     My roommate and I talk about expanding the sleeping capacity in the house. She is working on the local peaceful protests and I am dutifully watching the violent news on MSNBC. We’re planning to help family members if chaos happens. Writing this is crazy making. Do I really think our country is going to collapse. I don’t.

     My New York daughter is arriving with a truck next week to help me clear out unwanted and unneeded stuff. My house is crowded with things that I no longer need or even notice.

     I have a pile of books waiting at the library and another pile by the front door waiting to be returned. I am reading the New Yorker lately. We start watching a new Sci Fi series, FALLING SKIES. New to Netflix, but from 2011. Aliens, refugees and family dynamics.  First episode was good. With a young Noah Wyle, who is the current older Dr. Robbie on THE PITT.

 

Saturday, January 24, 2026

     I did have visiting plans for Friday with several people. Plans change, friends have difficulties and cannot come over. This week two new volunteers bring the meals to me. New friendly faces.  I am so grateful for their work.

     The day is cool and foggy.  I never do go outside.  I don’t do my daily exercises. I talk to my roommate who is preparing for a Seaside protest in the late afternoon. I am drawn to the tv screen to watch the thousands of community members in Minnesota march and protest and record ICE thugs in below freezing weather. The image of the 5 year old boy being used as bait by ICE to get to his family is heart breaking.

      I learn that my dear writing buddy has died in the morning in the hospital ICU after falling and sustaining a brain bleed. She was taking blood thinners. I have come to hate blood thinners even though they are life savers for some medical conditions. I feel so sad.

     The tall man comes by to see how I am doing with this grief. He offers to accompany me to her memorial service. Just saying this makes me cry. I now understand how scared my family was when I was in ICU several years ago.

 

Friday, January 23, 2026

     I note the passage of weeks with garbage day. Garbage day is Monday when the bins are dragged to the street for Early Tuesday morning pick up. Yep I realize another week has just passed, just disappeared. Faster and faster.

     As I type this report, I notice that my finger nails are long again.  Didn’t I just cut them. And my toe nails begin to pull at my socks. Another month or two have passed.  Not as clear an alert as garbage day but still I am surprised and annoyed it is time to cut my nails again.  Time goes so fast when you are old. At least with garbage day I can get the tall man or the roommate to do the dirty work but with nail clipping I am on my own.

     There are times when time is slow. Mid morning I am waiting for the volunteer to bring me meals.  I sit in the living room listening for the car sounds. Sometimes I read while waiting, sometimes I am just restless.  And after my nap I have a few hours before I watch the news. I do my chair yoga exercises. I walk on the deck.  I read, I am waiting.

     We watch the MSNOW review of the Jack Smith congressional hearing. He is a master at keeping calm and not being rattle by the inane questions of members of Congress. Then we watch episode 3 of season two of THE PITT. Always wonderful. Can’t binge with a weekly Thursday drop. And of course I did some book reading. I read the latest Text about the slow recovery of my writing partner in ICU.