Wednesday, January 28, 2026

     The talented professor is coming for several days. I start noticing what I need to do for this visit. Just thinking about it makes me tired. Clearing off tables, folding throw blankets in the living room, setting up the guest room.  I can do this as long as I don’t just go back to bed. I love her visits and our conversations.

     I finish reading THE CLUES IN THE FJORD, an Icelandic detective novel. I am up late in the night, unable to fall asleep. Now I feel a bit sleep deprived. The sun is out now and house is warming up. Garbage days are over and the bins are back to the house.

     I see three regular doctors, the PCP, the oncologist and the urologist. Enough, I don’t want any more doctors. My PCP suggests seeing a skin doctor. Should I go for an eye exam, what about a foot doctor. And the Dentist.  No, I keep saying. Every medical person has a specialty which limits what they can do.

     In the evening, I watch another episode of MY LIFE IS MURDER, a Britbox detective series set in Auckland New Zealand. I am looking at fictional murders while my roommate is in her room in 4 hours of zoom meetings, planning their social action events to prevent violence here..

 

Tuesday, January 27, 2026

     During the day I keep turning on and off the tv news. I am following the disaster growing in Minneapolis between the local community and the federal masked, armed thugs.  Yes, I am not a neutral observer. Tears arise as I watch the murder videos. Some of the tears are also for my friend who died this week. I am cheering the organizing work of INDIVISIBLE and the crowds of community folks who are protesting here and everywhere.

     Sometimes while the TV is on, I play computer solitaire to calm down. I am home bound and struggle with how to support our community. I describe to the meals on wheels volunteer the power of whistles in combating the thugs. I argue with the TV. And now I am writing about the disaster.

     Walking on the deck, everything is quiet. A low hum of distant traffic, a few birds and the sun warming up the neighborhood. Most of the potted plants now have flowers. Yellow oxalis blossoms cover the green back yard. I walk back and forth as usual. Later I remember Monday is not only disaster day it is also garbage day. With the help of my cane, I drag the bins to the street.

     In the evening while my roommate is working at her WHISTLE MANIA event, I watch another episode of THE CLOSER. No more news for awhile.

 

Monday, January 26, 2026

     We take the day off from doing anything serious on Sunday.  My Sunday paper is still outside and I am resisting going to pick it up. Later today when the sun is warming up the air I will retrieve the paper. Monday’s paper should be there also. I am always a day behind on reading the NYTimes. Doesn’t seem to matter.

     Several weeks ago I had a wound on my hand, thin fragile skin.  I have been watching my skin just rebuild the skin. First it bleeds, and is red and sore. I protect it for a week until a strong scab forms. The scab is gone this morning and new baby skin is covering my hand. 

     I think about dying when the body knows to let go, let all the ingredients of body move on to another project. This other project will not be me. This morning eating blueberries in my cereal I realize I am made up of plant power and sun power. How do the blueberries become part of my body. What is me?  I no longer pretend to know.

      We watch episodes of RIOT WOMEN and then THE CHANGE. Both are stories of older women learning about their own powerful lives. So good. I am reading THE CLUES IN THE FJORD by Satu Ramo, an Icelandic detective story. I can’t forget I continue to watch the violent news reports.