I made apple bread. Stuck the stick in to make sure it came out clean. Did it twice more. Cooled the bread, flipped it out of the plan, and it completely fell apart because it wasn't cooked in the middle. Whole thing went in the trash. I'm trying not to view it as a metaphor for everything right now.
'Safe'
Natter 78: I might need to watch some Buffy for inspiration
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, butt kicking, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Mac had a blow-up of frustration with being bed-bound and unable to do what he wants (like bathe). I got a shower stool yesterday and as we have his first follow-up appointment tomorrow, it was time to attempt some sort of bathing.
I am not sure how he thought this would go. He can't put weight on his foot, we don't have bars in the tub to hold on to. He seems to have no ability to visualize what the reality of things are, so when I showed him how I best thought he could get on the stool, keep his leg out of the way and use the hand-held shower to rinse off where he could scrub, he just looked baffled and took an attitude of it being impossible. I stepped out of the way and gave him some privacy and he managed at least some form of it, but there was crutch throwing and door slamming and huffing and puffing.
FFS. I mean, I get it, it IS frustrating, but it has been 2 weeks and I can all but guarantee you I would have figured a way to get around and do stuff on my crutches in 2 weeks.
Vent over. sorry.
Karl, I'd say if you don't think you have an Angel, you are one for somebody. Or Boyd Crowder. "We dug coal together." As for the ache, is it like blues, where it is sad, but almost feels good? Or more than you could take?(Cause one might be something to do, the other might be like "Aw, dang, my allergy to bullshit kicked in again. so sad.") Msbelle, he's testing my patience and I'm not there.(Shakes disabled fist) Cleared out a bunch of books today...trying not to feel that I'm wrapping shit up.
Had an appointment with my therapist today. We agreed it's acceptable and wise, health-wise, for me to step even further back from the news than I have been. That after a lifetime, since age 18, of demonstrations and marches and sit-ins and letter-writing and meetings and fundraising, at this point in my life, US politics is no longer mine to fix. If I can manage to hold onto SS and Medicare until I die, I will be happy enough. I send newer generations my hope, strength and determination, and all hopes for their future. I'm doing this because I need some peace in what remains of my time here, and I'm good with that.
Karl, I love you. The rest of you too. My family is reduced to five members, with two conditional step great-grands. Outside of family and a handful of personal friends, this place and you people are the next ring in "my people."