So much to say so much to say

To quote Dave Matthews. I know, it's been a long time. I'm just really busy at work these days, really busy, which isn't my normal state. I'm behind on my book order, am catching up on cataloging, am now downloading records because my clerk is out recovering from back surgery, have to work on goals, quarterly reports, annual report, statistics (there was one not-very-bright woman in Providence who drove Mary Frances crazy by saying "sasistics." It might have been ok but she worked in the Business Industry and Science Dept. I always say sasistics here but no one gets it--I think they just figure I'm stoopid. But then, one clerk here talks about Alheimers and gets fusstrated when people make mute points), do SOMETHING about the cooperative collection devel. plan. Like find the notes that say who volunteered to be on the committee. Lots of luck.

Anyway, here I am.

Ken's 94th birthday was Weds. It was a dismal celebration, just the 2 of us. I baked a cake--from a mix, which was depressing enough. I got fillet mignon, which is our favorite, and we had Tater Tots, which he likes. He was in bad shape, though--lonely, weak, very sad, walking so slowly--the way my father did just before he died. I was sure Ken was almost ready to die. I stopped there Thursday and he was completely different. It was great: he was cheerful, strong, animated, never fell asleep. Was playing with a plastic cork, trying to get it back in the wine bottle but it kept popping out like a champagne cork every ten minutes. We had great fun playing with that, but we're easily entertained. When I stopped there last night he was in a great mood again, and had gone outside to get his own firewood from the shed. The first time he's done that in weeks. Maybe spring will bring him new energy. I know he won't last forever--I also know lots of people think I'm not realistic about this and they warn me all the time. My mother and I talk about it often, I know she's trying to prepare me and I like the way she's doing it. I cried a boatload of tears on Weds. night while I was there, but I am being realistic. Anyway, for now I'll enjoy being with him.

I did my third and final foolish car-in-the-snow trick this week. The driveway was really icy (what Ken calls "just like a bottle") but I was determined to get up the tiny hill to the house. Being determined like that is always my downfall. Tried twice, decided to give it one more try. Slid down, gunned it, slid sideways, gunned it, turned the wheels, got stuck in snowbank, gunned it, stuck in front, stuck in back--perpendicular to driveway. The only times I've even come close to being in such a mess were the 2 times I got stuck in the mud up to the running boards of the car and had to be pulled out by tow trucks. Anyway, I was heading home to be sick, la grippe (but nothing a 5 hour nap couldn't stave off), so couldn't stand to think about a solution. I called Ken and asked if he could get in touch with the Brousseau Boys (again, 40 year old men we call boys). Great-nephews of his who are strong and working in the neighborhood. They came but I had fallen asleep by then. Turns out they had to pick the car up to get it out. They came to the door, knocked on it--I didn't wake up, they looked in at me on the couch and went home. I was really embarrassed, stopped to thank them the next day. This is really an awful thing, to have someone do something so unselfish and invaluable for you and not be there to thank them. Anyway I got them gift cards for Applebees on Thursday. Then I went to Lowes and realized I should have got gift cards THERE instead. But hopefully they'll pay some attention to their wives and take them out. High drama this week.

I've been feeling pretty good these days. Taking meth has been working well. I've got the dosage and routine down well, am pleased with the effect. Saw psychiatrist this week. It's amazing that I can be laughing with him one minute and in tears the next. I talked about the admiration people are always expressing to me about my living where I do and how I do. I've never liked that--to me it's just my life, what I do day to day. I'd be more impressed with myself if I lived in a city and had to deal with those complications. Anyway, it made me cry. I said it reminded me of my father's favorite line when he saw the less fortunate "poor pathetic bastards." For some reason I equate admiration for my life with that. So we talked about how I deal with the things that are challenging. I guess I see the things I should be doing, the things that need to be done that I'm neglecting. I'm trying to feel better about it. It dawned on me yesterday that there aren't that many women who live alone in situations like mine, and it's true I should be doing more of the physical work and maintenance, cleaning up outside--but those things are a challenge and I don't know what to do with the trash I collect. No truck to drive it to the landfill. Everyone says, "borrow a truck." Yeah right--men are so willing to lend you their trucks. Anyway, I'm always fretting about things I should be doing to my house and my yard. And I'm ALWAYS embarrassed that I pay people to stack my firewood. Psychiatrist says I should look at that as doing a good thing by helping young men better themselves by employing them. These guys are Boyz from Bill's 'hood who are funny but are always close to ruining their lives. They treat me with great respect and want to fix things up around my house.

Ahhhh, big sigh.

It felt like spring--just the tiniest bit this week. At the point where the snow makes the ground colder than the air. At the point where there's an incredible sheen on top of the snow that's so beautiful. The dogs can walk on top of it, jump on it, stand on top of snowbanks like mountain goats. I can walk on top of it very tenderly, punching through just about to my knee every once in a while. Just the hint of a spring smell in the air. Almost warm enough to leave my jacket inside so I do it anyway. Then snow last night, but far less than was predicted by weatherman on TV.

Now it's time to go to drug store to get meds, book store to buy present for Bill, grocery store for things, then long ride home. Have dogs for company, am hoping they've done no damage to car while waiting for me. The latch on Tess' cage is broken, so 3 days this week she was loose in the house. Only has access to living room and bathroom so destructive options are limited. So far so good, and she's calmer when I get home, though surprised and puzzled by the whole thing. Cutie. Kitty has cabin fever. Runs around living room like creature possessed. Went outside this morning. Hell, we're all shack wacky. That's March.