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.

 

 Thursday, January 22, 2026   

     Light rain this morning, Chain saws are active in the neighborhood.  I drive my roommate to an early morning medical appointment. We avoid the high school morning drop off traffic. Trees are wet and glistening. Not enough rain for new puddles in the driveway. I will pick her up later in the morning.

     I don’t sleep well. Hear the drops of water from the sky light leaks. Struggle out of bed to set up the bucket. Awake for hours. Maybe I doze some of the time. I am worried what it could be like to die of cancer or cancer treatment. In the morning, I am optimistic about living.

     I am reading THE CORRESPONDENT, a novel by Virginia Evans. The story is told through life long letters written by a 78 year old woman living alone. I so identify with this story.

     I am finally avoiding more news about the president. We laugh with Colbert on the late show.  And then more episodes of THE BIG “C”. there are four seasons. I will be glad when it is over but I am not ready to abandon this story. And of course, another episode of the middle aged motorcycle riders traveling in Africa, LONG WAY DOWN.  Maybe too much TV for one night.

 

Wednesday, January 21, 2026

     The red cards are my favorite in the online solitaire game. The red cards signify hope that I will win the game.  The black cards challenge the hope. I have favorite trees, houses, people, cars. I have preferences with everything. Must be part of being human, the constant search for the red cards.

     After leaving my roommate off at her medical appointment I park at San Carlos Beach. Very few cars and people. The ocean is steel gray and flat. No boats or whales or birds. Several single people with dogs walk through the park. I sit in the car listening to a podcast on books to read this winter.  Immediately, I want to buy these books. The desire is so strong, I don’t want to miss out on something good and important.

     My favorite comfort TV series is the motorcycle trips by two middle aged guys. I am in the middle of their trip through Africa, LONG WAY DOWN. Don’t know why I like it so much. Maybe it is the red card phenomena.

     I am still reading IMPOSSIBLE OWLS, essays by Brian Phillips. I do my chair yoga routine in the morning and the deck walking in the afternoon. And of course the flow of scary violent news is part of my life.