It's a Friday evening in August in our little town. It's quite warm and humid, but there's a breeze. A neighbor and old friend, Special K, was just here bearing goodies. She's doing well and is more often ok now than she has been in years. I still greet her with the wary attitude, but that'll go away with time. Down the road a ways, a woman she went to school with, and who was a good friend to me when I first moved here, lies in state. Never fails to amaze me how someone can be here and hearty one day, and gone the next. RIP SallyAnn Tenney, not even 58 and gone already.
We finally had a couple of days of rain, keeping us off the drought maps. Not in time to save the potato crop, but better than the nothing we've had.
Beest is fine now, aside from that sebaceous cyst that grew back. Freaks me out. Doesn't seem to bother her. She's not vain. She continues to mellow out, and sleeps with her paw in my hand most nights.
We've straightened out the flying solo gig for Gal Friday. I'll be her direct employer thru the ARIS program, no more insanity with the VNA. The budget has constraints though, and I have to pay the ARIS program and the case manager as well as Gal Friday from that budget. So in order to pay her a living wage, I had to take a cut in my hours of help- 10 hours less a month. We'll just have to be more efficient with the time. It's cheaper on Medicare/aid, and it's better for all involved.
National politics is such a nightmare. I'm volunteering on Dave Zuckerman for Lieutenant Governor's campaign, and it's actually nice to talk to Vermonters about their issues and thoughts. My advice to anyone who does cold-call phonebanking: only use the script for messages left. If someone answers the phone, be a human. You get into some thoughtful conversations.
We began sorting the stored boxes that haven't been opened since the flood 5 years ago. I found a few things I'd despaired were lost- particularly Uncle Bert's WWI copper tube, which he used to deliver plans and maps from HQ to infantry units by bicycle around France. That was wonderful. I hope as we go thru things, all -or at least some- of the things that disappeared in that rushed pack and storage will be found. Hard to believe in 2 weeks it'll be 5 years since Irene made us homeless. Seems much longer ago.
This is our last Summer in The Shire. It will be my last Fall and Winter, too. Most of the Hobbits will relocate before Thanksgiving to the new building, Red Rover. I'll be here until the Spring, and move up the road to Rivendell. The Shire will stand abandoned until a developer comes along, as I predicted 5 years ago. This is beautiful land, along the Brandywine. I bet the developer who's involved in the new building will get this place. And I hope the Preservation Society gives him anal fissures over it.
Summer is peaking and will be winding down soon. We're at that breathless moment, when growing things are at their apex, before the days feel shorter, and things stop growing and turn to ripening. And allergies do queer things to your head and senses.
This week's theme has been pain. A new and angering clusterpain around my elbow is, according to the Doc, fibromyalgia. I never really believed it was a thing, a carry-over from when I was healthy and thought anyone with such a thing was being a Drama Queen. No, I was wrong, it's real. And it's a combo of nerve and muscle pain. For 2 days it was so painful it masked my hip pain. I'm not impressed. If my arm can't hold me up on the walker I can't walk. Not funny. Go away, fibromyalgia. You're a big fat nasty bastard.
Maybe this is the weekend I set up the new printer and camera that Billy gave me for my birthday. I found some photos I'd like to share online. If my arm behaves. This is a rare do-nothing, no company, no people passing thru town weekend. I have the new Harry Potter book, air conditioning and even some money left after paying everything. I could do nothing but read and ignore the world for 2 days. Life is good. :)
Prose And Poultry
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