I am.

 This day has been one of the odder ones. 

I don't really know if I can explain
it. 

For over a year, I am often feeling like I am living in a kind of dream. It's not a developing dream. No stories are being forwarded. No messages are being received. No learning is occurring. 

I can't even really say that I feel as if I'm waiting. Because I don't. 

I just feel as if I'm here, and that's it.

I feel every bit the blob of jelly that I look like and often think I am becoming as my body gives out on me; one limb or one system at a time. I don't -- I can't repeat this enough-- i do NOT feel as if I'm waiting for a "system collapse." 

I'm just here.

I just am.

Yesterday, I was good. I even managed to do some active weeding and replanting in my flower beds. I didn't get it all done, but I got more done than just chopping the weeds (grass) out of the open spaces between plants.

Yesterday was my mother's birthday, but as a family we largely ignored that fact. Patrick Stewart got a lot of well-wishes, though. And Cheech Marin. Really, I was glad that I wasn't having any of those brain blip conversations with her. Until recalling her birthday I hadn't realized that those were happening less often. And that I was glad of that. 

And this morning I had to ice my knee before it would bend. 

And it hurts. A lot. About a 7 on their pain scale.

I had things to do. I needed a trip to the store, and a trip to the laundromat. 

Yeah, lugging stuff in and out of the car and shopping on a painful, reluctantly bending knee. Great start to the day.

My friend posted a notice about a sister-in-law going into hospice. It's barely been 10 days since they buried a brother. (Not the same one.)

I couldn't seem to catch my sisters online. They probably went somewhere and were doing something fun, that I wouldn't be able to participate in anyway. (And They were. I'm so glad they can do that, even when I can't. We've all earned all the fun we can find in life.)

Well, I got to the store, and the laundromat. I got all my freezer groceries brought in and put away, successfully playing either tetris or jenga in the freezer.

I even went out and brought the rest of the refrigerator stuff in and some pop. I stock up pop when I go shopping, because for some reason, multi-packs of Diet Pepsi is a rare commodity around Bethel. Especially at sale prices. (If there's a 4/$10 or 3/$9 sale, the store will have two in stock. If I'm lucky. No sale price that way.) 

I still have shelf stuff groceries and more pop in the car to be brought in.

As far as that goes, my clean laundry is still out in the car. After limping around the laundromat, moving clothes from machine to machine, I just didn't have it in me to drag them in.

But I did get them washed. Yay me. 

At the laundromat, I had to go in the bathroom to cry, because suddenly I was punched in the chest by Tammy nowhere. 

It takes my breath away.

I can't comprehend it. 

I am, and she is not. 

Tonight it's too hot to sleep, and I am still -- suffering, if that's even the right word. 

How can something that exists only as an existence have suffering? Why should it?

Now that the words have spilled and spewed out, perhaps now I can succumb to sleep. 

Perhaps I will just exist in darkness, listening to my tv and the sounds my head makes.

If I do that, I will, eventually, sleep.

Probably. 

Anyway, good night for now, and I'll be back, floating through existence as a miasma.

Descent of Summer

 It's been a strange day today.

I woke up, fully rested and restless, at 6 am. That's usually the time of deepest sleep for me. Washed dishes, changed garbage bags, carried garbage out, pulled some weeds in flower beds. Then I sat on my porch for a while, watching and listening to the birds and bugs (and the cars and children across the street at the day care) and breathing in the lightening scent of the new day. Smells like good clean growth.

I seem to have something in my eyes, although I've rinsed and washed and flushed it out. Time for the allergy pills, I guess. Kind of tired of my eyes crying without the essential me involved in the act!

Did take a couple-hour nap about noon to two, then here I am, headache, yawns, crying eyes and all. Watching tv, working puzzles, reading, and writing, among other things. 

The big H is back. On the weather maps, that is. The big H for heat, humidity, and headache. Ha Ha. 

In other words: Summertime. "Roll out the barrel" and all that fun stuff.  Commercials for Memorial Day "buy a bed" sales. Couches and recliners will be next. Maybe cars, but they may wait until Flag Day or the 4th of July for that. 

It does bother me that most of our patriotic observances are devoted commercially to selling the big ticket personal items. I've written about that before, and most likely will again. 

The air conditioner is on, and running constantly. It's not set that low. 

Last week we were having frost advisories. 

Summer has descended upon us, like a plague of --

CICADAS. 

Because, yes, that's happening, too.

Welcome to my weather.

May Flowers.

 I have been planting.

First I had to weed and turn over dirt and add to it, before I could plant, and then I started small. A few of these here, a couple of those there. The first flowers were gifts. Then I bought some. And after I had thoroughly disturbed and roiled the dirt, I tossed in some seeds that I've had in a drawer.

Monday, after a family meal with two sisters and a cousin, I bought way way too many more flowers. The colors were so bright and cheerful. I couldn't resist. I bought enough to share, and some intentionally to share. Spread fresh dirt over it all.

After Monday, of course life got thoroughly in the way. Rain, and then my arthritic knee started jabbing me if I moved. It's not nice having to hobble around my one room on my stick, but at least I didn't have to resort to the more bulky and awkward walker. 

Finally the rain stopped. Leftover April showers, I suppose, since Nature doesn't go by man's calendar. 

Even better, the sun came out.

Today I went out  and planted most of my huge haul of pretties. Those lovely reds, the lemon yellows, blushing orange. pretty pastels, all jumbled up into eye-catching glory.

If I do say so myself. Haha.

I have ten plants left to go into the ground, and that's going to be tough. I havem't quite figured how to do them yet. The ones I planted today I planted in a raised bed. These others have to go in the ground,

Getting to the ground with my complaining knee may be a problem. Or maybe just getting up will be that problem. None of my knee braces are helpful for this issue.

I do, however, have friends, and one is going to loan me some long handled tools to at least do the digging with. And if I dig deep enough, I can drop the plants and bend over to place them, instead of get right down there.

BONUS: The landlord really, really liked what I have done.

Mowing away

I complain a lot -- and I know it's a lot -- about the way my neighbors mow.
No, it's not the way; it is the frequency.

I don't want anyone to think that I don't appreciate, acknowledge, and value the well-kept lawn. I even get ashamed of ours when it isn't mowed, although I also like to watch the teeny-tiny wildflowers that work their way through the grass. Pinkish white, yellow, purple.
Delicate.
Beautiful.

I like to watch the birds, too. They really have a feast once the longer grass has been cut. I suppose that there must be more of it gone to seed and once it's cut the birdies can get at the seeds. They sure do like it for some reason! They make almost as much noise as the neighbor's lawnmowers.

If I had a mower I could use, I'd probably mow every day, too. I'd mow the front on Monday, the side on Tuesday, the other side Wednesday, and I'd split the back on the other two weekdays.

But I wouldn't mow the whole freaking lawn every other day! That does NOT equal a beautiful lawn.
In fact, the lawns in question were turning brown -- in APRIL! In OHIO!
Sounds like overkill to me.

But I have no grudge against the normal people who take satisfaction in a job well done. Or those whose goal is to beautify and brighten, and to create a resting place for the eyes.
To those yard workers and weed warriors, I say "Well done" and "Thank you." Your efforts are noticed and appreciated.
You may make me look bad, but your work is beautiful.

Grandparent's Day: Another Hallmark Holiday

Many people think of today, Grandparents Day, as a Hallmark Holiday.

So what if it is? If it's not your cup of tea , don't celebrate it. When you see commercials or reminders, make sure not to think of your grandparents. Even if you remember only unkindness or downright cruelty, remember that every time you remember them, you are honoring this made-up holiday that you don't respect.

Every day, these days, seems to have been set aside by some group or government to commemorate Something-or-other. For millions of people, any day is a special commemoration for the individual because it's their birthday.

Birthdays are (locally) about presents and cakes and gimmes. Breast Cancer Awareness and similar 'events' often call for fundraising in many different ways, although the focus and the honorees may be survivors or contenders or a thousand other _________--ers.

There is nothing wrong with this. Why not?

 So, some holidays -- these so-called Hallmark Holidays -- encourage people to buy cards (preferably Hallmark, I suppose) and flowers. Some of these holidays are newer, like Grandparents Day and Sweetest Day. Others have been around for centuries, like Valentine's Day.

What difference does it make?

Many of you complain about the "crass consumerism" of these special days.

 If you're crass that's your fault.
If you're a consumer, that's your choice.

I Concede to Spring

Much as I wanted to put it off, hoping yet for a Big One to  wrap up winter (not impossible but unlikely), I have to give in and admit that it's Spring. Tornadoes have already been wiping out whole towns and taking bites out of others. Temperatures are getting warmer. The clocks have been set forward in the yearly joke that doing so creates more daylight in a 24 hour day. (That one day is a 25 hour day -- maybe it's that hour of daylight they are thinking of.)

But none of these are the deciding factor for me. These things are all indicators of Spring, but they are not the boiled-down essence of Spring.

I admitted it might be Spring when I came home from the grocery store with two boxes of flower seeds.
I conceded that it is indeed Spring today when the man across the street mowed his lawn.

I observed, long ago, that the definitive signs of Spring are when women start talking flowers and men start talking mowers. This is a general rule of thumb, not a defining of genders. Go to a bar, a diner, a store and listen to the bull talk sessions. Then, you'll know it's spring when women talk flowers and men talk mowers.

When they actually do something about it, then it really is Spring.

Is it Over Yet?

There are daffodils in my flower bed. Bright green leaves. Big fat buds. Clusters of them, pushing out from the covering of leaves beneath the (now melted) snow. I don't know when they got there, but there they are. I think today's rain must have squashed the dead leaves down to let the green out.

And such a lovely green it is.

In the meantime, it is snowing again in Kansas. My niece just posted a picture on Facebook of her freshly shoveled walk. I had to enlarge the pic to see where the walk is supposed to be.

Last week it was March. Windy and warm.
Over the weekend it snowed again, just flurries.
Today it is April. Rain, rain, more rain. And daffodils awaiting.

If only the calendar could keep up with the weather.
But then, we'd be pretty dizzy by now wouldn't we?