Old Age Day by Day November 26, 2013

There is something delightful in looking in a crammed refrigerator, knowing friends and family are coming and a lot of yummy food is about to be consumed.  I went to two grocery stores yesterday to get ingredients, today my dear friend comes, and soon the cooking begins.  Thanksgiving is a nice idea.  I'm keeping a gratitude journal, and I can't imagine a better use of time than giving thanks and appreciating all we have.  It doesn't depend on being religious, just a willingness to see ourselves as interdependent and fortunate.  Somebody tills that field and plants those potatoes and harvests and sells to market.  The back breaking labor of many souls brings us our food. 

It is also a time to think of those without food, and send that check to the Red Cross or whoever for the Phillipines.  Taking a moment to know how lucky we are and share our luck makes a difference to us and others.

Yesterday we saw the neighbors a couple of houses away take down two huge pine trees.  They are still at it today, sawing and probably making logs.  One of the trees lost a lot of branches in the wind storm, and I guess was considered unstable.  We have a lot of trees like that around here, as well as up at the cabin.  There is a pine next door to me that would crush my studio if it fell, and yet they don't do anything.  It's expensive to be preventative, and most of us don't bother to think of what might happen, only react to what has happened.  These people next door are not good neighbors, as they let the yard and house fall apart, and I have no idea what the reason would be.  But they don't feel connected to where they live or others, which is sad.

In a couple of hours, I'll be picking up my friend, and that makes me very happy.

Old Age Day by Day November 25, 2013

My friend and I went to another friend's trunk show at her home an hour's drive away.  We had fun catching up in the car.  We both like our friend's necklaces:  they are witty and fun, bright and unusual.  Since she is an artist and art teacher, she brings a high level of design to the necklaces.  However, they are pricey, and also hard to "carry off".  I'm short with no neck.  I had two necklaces already, one with silver beads and big blobs of red and turquoise "beads" almost the size of eggs, and another red and lime green necklace with interesting big beads.  But neither of us could quite decide yesterday, as we tried on necklaces, looked in the mirror, and commented on each.  The ones I really loved were way too much for little me.  I did buy one in the end, a bunch of paper mache balls on black string that is light and looks very festive, with black and red and silver.  But my friend ended up not really loving any on her, and said as she ages she gets more conservative.  We both love ethnic, but are toning it down.  With gray hair it's easy to end up looking like a bag lady. 

It was awkward as well, because two other artists were there, one with paintings, the other with charming little felt hats, but both were pricey, and the paintings were not that interesting, and the hats REALLY would have made me look like a bag lady.  Everything was too expensive to be kind and buy a hat and small painting as well.

We found a place to have lunch, after we left our friend's, and it seemed like a charming little cafe, and the menu was full of healthy and interesting things.  We both ordered the same small salad and sandwich, and she had a latte and me cafe au lait.  When the drinks came, mine was near cold, but I drank it anyway.  We talked, then talked some more.  Thirty minutes later a waitress brought us our bill.  We protested:  we'd never gotten our order!  They shuffled around, then brought out the plates.  My friend had ordered dressing on the side, but they got that wrong, so took her plate back.  It was returned with no dressing.  Needless to say, we each left a one dollar tip, and that was pure kindness.  The place wasn't crowded, and I suppose they were students and inexperienced, but it was colossally bad service.  I guess we're spoiled at home.

Old Age Day by Day November 23, 2013

Our deeply kind daughter and boyfriend are coming over this morning to walk the dogs and give my husband a break.  I think my husband has about had it being noble.  I feel so helpless.  The dogs won't chase balls or get exercise any other way. 

We had two nights of high winds and gusts:  65 mph where we are.  A ton of trees, branches and other debris has fallen, and we've been picking up stuff from our yard, but don't have any room left for more leaves or sticks.  The howling really disturbed our sleep both nights.  It's calm this morning, finally.  One amazing thing is our big glass globe light out front fell, but directly into a plant in a pot and was unbroken.  The pot was barely bigger than the globe, so it was a miracle.  Now that I said it was calm the wind has kicked up again.  There is a pine tree next door that we worry about falling on my studio, but so far, so good.  There is leafy debris on every block and lots of sawing and tree removal. 

Wind is scary.  I associate it with the Firestorm now, and that is disturbing.  And the Chinooks in Colorado were apt to pull your roof off, smash a tree or destroy anything not nailed down.  We had to make sure all our animals were in so they wouldn't blow away, except for our horse, which had a one horse barn, but it was pretty rickety.  I've seen a lot of damage from wind, and when it shakes the house and the branches screech against your bedroom window, it is not sleep inducing.  It's unsettling.

Old Age Day by Day November 22, 2013

My husband and I like to play Scrabble.  Until recently, I kept the game on the kitchen counter for easy access.  But a few weeks ago, I had such a run of bad luck playing:  having all vowels, even all "i"s, all consonants, getting the "q" at the end of the game, that I part of myself I hate to acknowledge - the BAD LOSER - arose with a vengance. I stopped in the middle of our second game in a row because my husband kept putting a word right where I was about to put it.   I put the game upstairs in the hall closet.  Last night I felt calm and mature.  I brought the game down.  We played neck and neck until on my last draw of letters, I drew the "z".  There was no place to put it, no word to make.  I also had a couple of 4 pt letters left and two "u"s.  Needless to say, the "q" had already been used long before.  I had 15 pts against me as my husband went out.  I lost.  He asked if I wanted to play again.  I refused, and marched the game back upstairs.  Does this prove we're forever young?  I'd hoped for more resilient skin, not bad sportsmanship.  I asked myself why I didn't just enjoy the process?  The answer was ugly. 

Perhaps I can excuse myself a bit because I'm stir crazy from my broken foot.  But still.  It's quite disillusioning to be as ancient as I am and still a baby.  It's not like I would win anything, or be given a plaque or be in the newspaper.  There is no reward. 

But at least I'm still fully human.  With all the issues we humans have.  Annoying as they are.

Old Age Day by Day November 21, 2013

I noticed in the paper today that Gloria Steinem was one of the Medal of Freedom recipients.  I really appreciate her inclusion, because, in my generation at least, she has been a flashpoint for how it is to be a woman in our society here.  Her voice lifted so many others, and her journey, both personal and political, mirrors what it was like to be a woman and want to use your brain and skills and heart in a way that reflected self love and dignity for all of us.  She has been fluid as well, changing when the times changed, opening to women of color, to lesbians, to the whole broad spectrum of what is female.  And like Simone de Beauvoir, she struggled with relationships, and images of beauty and how to be female and sexually active.  For both of them, the professional life was at war with the love life.  I also appreciate Steinem's honesty about her mother's mental illness, and the effect it had on her lifelong.  She spoke at a time when such topics were shrouded in secrecy and shame.  She admitted her own mother was not her source of self valuing, and that the world is much more complicated and feminism must reflect that.  Not everyone had the nurturing mother and absent father.  The struggle to know the female self is sometimes a lonely path in the dark.

Old Age Day by Day November 20, 2013

The rain has continued steadily from yesterday, so we are getting a good soaking.  I love the sound of it.  Surely this will help the vegetation around, and clean the air.  I am picking my friend up from radiation today, and then we're going out to lunch.  After that, I pick up my foster granddaughter and we will work on her gifts some more.  I bought some good iron-on decorations and feel she's going to make really nice presents.

I realize that it is not November 22, and I am already a bit sick of all the hoopla around the 50th anniversary around JFK's assassination.  Somehow, all the attention seems trivalizing not respectful.  And I am even sick of the Gettysburg Address anniversary.  I guess I don't much like the media's manipulation of us.  Maybe it is useful to younger people.  A history lesson.  But I don't really see touchy issues addressed:  like the hatred towards public figures and what that means psychologically (Gabby Giffords, for instance) or how we need our Presidents to remind us why we have government and what it would mean if we didn't (Obama has attempted this on occasion, but we need more framing of who we are, what government does for us, and that there will always be a cost to individual liberty).  Instead, we get the same stale images and cliched reactions, and then we romanticize and idealize these very human figures, and that makes us turn away from the ugliness that we ought to face, at least once in a while.

Why are we afraid to talk about hate?  That is what young people could really use some help with.  We need to admit it in ourselves, and see the causes and conditions of it's dominance over some of us.  We need to know how to counter and name it, so it does not go underground and harm.

Old Age Day by Day November 19, 2013

Well, I have at least three more weeks in my boot.  The break has not healed.  I am discouraged. 

Today it is actually raining.  Not heavily, but pretty steady.  I hope this continues for a while, so the air and trees and bushes can be washed clean.  I love the sound of it.  After seeing the podiatrist, I went to a fabric store to get stuff for my foster granddaughter's sewing projects, then to Target for a bunch of random things.  I just wanted to be out and not go home. 

My friend began radiation yesterday.  She has it five days a week for six weeks, so it will be all through the holidays.  I hope it doesn't get too wearing, and she keeps her spirits up.  I sent her a funny card yesterday.  I will be taking her sometimes for her radiation, and she knows I'm available, but I worry. 

Last night I watched two episodes of Antique Road Show with my husband.  That is how desperate I am.  Before that we watched "Holiday" again, with Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn.  Who I really love in that film is Lew Ayers.  He's so funny as the drunk brother, but heartbreaking as well, and just riveting on screen.  He lived a long life and I remember seeing him in a couple of films when he was old, and loving his presence.  "Holiday" is a bubble of a film, perfect for the depression, with it's theme that the poor are so much wiser and happier than the rich.  A lot of people needed to believe that then.  Yet it glamorizes the rich at the same time.  And everybody is playing at being poor, no one really is.  But Grant and Hepburn have some real fire in their scenes.  They were great together in that, in "Bringing up Baby", and in "Philadelphia Story".  Hepburn never had half as much chemistry with Spencer Tracy.  Come to think of it, he just had no sexiness to him.  But he must have had something that attracted her.  Maybe guilt and unavailability.

Old Age Day by Day November 18, 2013

It's been almost three weeks since my fall, and yesterday I was so sick of putting my foot up and wearing the boot and taking it easy.  Part of my mind knew this was nothing in comparison to problems the human race undergoes, but nevertheless, I was disgusted with my options.  Drive and screw up my foot?  Walk and screw up my foot?  Rot my brain and watch TV?  Read?  I'm sick of reading right now, very sick of reading.  I've called and bothered everyone I can think of.  I've knitted until my hands are aching.  I've meditated.  I've been STILL.  I want to move.

Luckily, my daughter rescued me yesterday, by driving us to lunch and a movie.  That got me out and away from the house.  And I haven't really been shut in, to be fair.  I've made myself go out every day and on Saturday I overdid it by driving to study group, then walking from the car to the cafe for lunch, then grocery shopping.  The result was my foot throbbing and keeping me up a lot of the night.  So I guess this means it's not healed yet.  Duh!

I did figure out yesterday a couple of things that aggravated the foot.  I had a sock on top of the ace bandage, and my pants were outside the boot, so my foot kept slipping in the boot.  I switched to skinny jeans, which makes the boot tighter, and no sock.  Tomorrow I see the podiatrist, so maybe he has tips.  Patience, I know.  It takes time to heal.  Well, yesterday I was just plain out of it.  Despite working for three years on that chapter in Shantideva's "The Bodhisatva's Way of Life".  Despite the unreasonableness of my irritation, the lack of gratitude that the foot is such a minor injury, that friends and even my own daughter are undergoing REAL challenges in healing, treatment and recovery.  The mind is a terribly selfish thing, and yes, yesterday I was wasting mine.

Old Age Day by Day November 17, 2013

There is so much in the media right now about JFK's assasination, and while it holds a lot of emotional resonance for me, as I was a freshman in college when it occurred, November 10 is the day my mother died, and it was a shock of a different magnitude.  I had just turned forty, and was head counselor at a safehouse for battered women, and I was seeing the decade of my forties as hopeful and empowering.  I was having brunch with my friend, a girls morning out, as we had toddlers at home, and I remember saying my period was off by a couple of months.  I didn't think I was pregnant, but something was up.  That afternoon my father called.  My mother was dead.  She had been shopping the afternoon before with a friend, returned and had dinner and watched TV with my dad.  The next morning she came into the kitchen, went to the sink, and said she had to "upchuck".  She collapsed in front of the sink, and when the paramedics arrived she was dead.  For so many years she worried about cancer, as she'd had it twice, but she died of a massive heart attack.  That evening, my period began, and I felt as if my body had known all along and tried to warn me. 

I'd last seen my mother in late August, as we lived in another state.  In my last phone conversation with her, she'd joked about my dad painting the house; said she had nowhere to hide to even get dressed.  She smoked like a chimney, and probably had since she was ten (she left school after third grade) and drank too much, self-medicating the dread she felt about cancer.  She'd been told twice she would die of it and both times she refused to cooperate.  The autopsy said her arteries were like cement.  If only there had been a warning, and she'd gotten on heart medication or had an angioplasty or something.  She was sixty one years old. 

I begged my dad to wait for me to see her body, but he and my brother talked me out of it, because of the autopsy.  I wish I hadn't listened to them, and had been able to see and touch her.  She was cremated, gone and absent so suddenly and swiftly.  My kids lost a terrificly devoted grandmother, their only one, and the youngest can't even remember her.  Now it's been almost thirty years.  She and I did not get along at times, but I see myself as more like her than my dad.  And even though I used to look like his spitting image, nowadays I look like my mother.  I see her every time I look in the mirror.  Hi, mom.

Old Age Day by Day November 16, 2013

I was so tired from the dogs barking at various times last night that I found myself yawning occasionally in study group this morning.  I am exhausted.  Our teacher had also gotten very little sleep and this resulted in a meandering discussion after meditation, but, nevertheless, many fruitful threads were grabbed and I can think about them later.  One was memorizing, and what it can do for the brain.  We all remembered having to memorize poems, facts, multiplication tables in school.  We could all still recite poems.  I can do a lot of the Gettysburg Address.  What does it mean to give that up?  What about memorizing pieces of music, or song, or other performance presentations?  We had to know our pieces by heart and sing songs without music.  I love that I can just pop up with nursery rhymes.  The other day my foster granddaughter's mom brought their dog Lucy and I recited:  Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it, nothing in it nothing on it but the binding round it.  My grandaughter was delighted.

We also discussed remembering faces or not, the ethics of assisted suicide, and other broad, hopelessly complicated topics.  Alas, there was no resolution to any of these convoluted subjects, but after all, maybe the most important thing to remember is that they are complicated, and people are passionate about them, and it all comes down to looking inside oneself and seeing what seems true to oneself.

I will never forget how in the film "12 Years as a Slave" Patsy asks Solomon to take her life and he refuses, and later we see she has made peace with her horrible lot in life, not given up her humanity, compassion or love, and in that way triumphed over the brutality inflicted upon her.  And we, as the viewers, know that in less than ten years, the Emancipation Proclamation will be activated, and the amendment to end slavery forever passed.  An irony that reminds us we can never know the future nor should we despair of it.  Actions have consequences, and change is the truth of life.  What a powerful film.

Old Age Day by Day November 15, 2013

I had such a nice time yesterday with my friend.  We had a leisurely lunch with cafe au lait and french food, browsed in a bookstore, then stood out in my back patio admiring the golden leaves fallen from the trees.  As we get older, I believe we treasure these simple moments more than any others.  And it began with a laugh, as I saw her in her car, tapped on her window, and startled her.  It was an accident, but when I got in the passenger side, we began laughing at the thought of a heart attack and how the obituary would read:  Died suddenly of the tap on the window.  I love the fun I have with my friends.

I'm still reading about Red Cloud, and actually my friend and I talked a bit about that warrior culture, which is so hard to understand today.  Well, maybe, if you're a Marine.  It is so violent, so patriarchal, so much about bragging and symbolic triumphs.  Oh, I guess Congressmen carry on the tradition. 

Today is another glorious day in our drought season.  There is no rain on the horizon.  Strange days. 

Old Age Day by Day November 14, 2013

I'm reading a gripping biography of Red Cloud, the great Oglala chief.  In the process I'm learning a lot more about the Lakota and that whole midwest territory.  Red Cloud was an amazing strategian and had the respect of many tribes.  What caused respect is ruthlessness, and fearless guerilla warfare that the U.S. military had not experienced.  The Indians did not play by the rules that the soldiers had experienced in the Civil War.  They didn't follow up victories and certainly weren't about to line up to be shot.  Their cruelty was legendary, and that made them feared and avoided at all costs.  The "treaties" were violated on both sides, so they were shams for show.  One can't help but compare the Lakota to the Commanches, so terrorizing in the south.  It was a violent way of life, and the only honor or goal was counting coup.  The clash with whites was bound to be horrific.

I've been wondering where the boxes labeled for me from Amazon came from.  Now my older daughter tells me they were for her, but somehow she mixed things up.  That answers that mystery.  Now I have to send them to her, so that's annoying.  But I can't really keep her birthday gifts, can I?  Just kidding.

My foster granddaughter and I had fun yesterday working on sewing projects for her to give as holiday gifts.  We're doing felt ornaments, scarves and pillows.  She is so good with the sewing machine now.  How she is growing up!

Old Age Day by Day November 13, 2013

Yesterday I was discouraged, because my foot hurt and no matter what I did with it, my body felt awkward and uncomfortable.  I'm sick of not walking around and stretching myself and trying to keep the foot up.  My body keeps acting up, protesting, creaking and groaning at the old age thing.  I want to move more, but I must be patient.  After all, this injury is a little thing, and I feel guilty complaining, but there, now I've got it off my chest!

I talked to a lot of people on the phone yesterday, and that felt good.  These friends are my lifeline, and I feel anchored when I connect with them.  Today is another beautiful fall day, and perhaps my foster granddaughter and I can get out a bit more.  I also hope to work on some tree ornaments with her, if her focus is steady.  By the time I pick her up she's pretty exhausted from school and choir practice, so I have to play it by ear.  Last week she was happy enough to relax, watch a movie and draw.  The best times are when she has a day off school and we can do something in the morning and have lunch.  From my point of view, just talking with her is the best, but I feel I must be somewhat entertaining as well.  But who am I kidding?  She has a full, exciting life and I'm not really filling any holes.  We have a friendship that's as long as she can remember.  And she trusts me.  That's enough.

Old Age Day by Day November 12, 2013

We indeed had a feast yesterday, for our son's friend's tribe's day.  Amazing chicken enchiladas, pozole, chili, potato salad, mac and cheese, green salad, tortillas, the whole nine yards.  Then there were the desserts:  a chocolate cake, a pumpkin pie, pumpkin cake, bread pudding, and apple crisp.  Since I'm diabetic, I could only admire the desserts, which was just as well.  I like seeing the people there whom I only see once a year.  It was gay, with kids running everywhere.  I had a long discussion with a boy about "Ender's Game", which he has read.  We analysed the movie.  I heard a detailed description of the new gambling casino up north, from two very funny women who seem to be experts on the tribal casino world.  It was truly festive.

This morning I can see that it rained last night, but only a little more than spit.  We are not getting rain, even when we're supposed to.  It's looking ominous.  I may have to do a rain dance, but with my broken foot, it might not produce much. 

Old Age Day by Day November 11, 2013

Yesterday my daughter and I saw "Twelve Years a Slave".  It is even more amazing than I expected.  First of all, the cinematography is beautiful and so unusual.  Secondly, though there are many harsh moments, these are intraspursed with many quiet moments, and the pace is slow and deliberate.  This is NOT an action movie.  The actors performances are superb, and the attempt is more to render the feeling state of Solomon Northrup, rather than any preachiness.  The film reminds me of "Beasts of the Southern Wild", more coherent and crafted, but telling a similar tale of people and situations painful past bearing.  This is the antidote to "Gone With the Wind", where the slave owners are noble and the slaves like family members.  This film tells us what freedom is and what the lack of it does to a person.  The violence, when it's shown, is not glamorized or fetishsized.  Mostly, you can close your eyes because you know what is coming, but it's not the few moments of violence that disturb, it's the waiting, anticipation, constant dread.  The slave owners are sanctimonious and terrifying in their actions.  It's as if their dark side has been allowed dominance through the act of buying another human being.  Thus, the viewer begins to think about the nature of a human being and the cost of harming another to the soul of the perpetrator.  And thoughts of "good" slaveowners seem ludicrous.  There are choices in this movie, and we are made to feel them.  See it.  Then talk about it with others.

Old Age Day by Day November 10, 2013

There was an article in the newspaper travel section today about Morocco.  I found myself happy to see pictures of places I'd seen, and grateful again that my daughter's path encouraged me to follow.  Actually, all four of the kids have gotten me places I might no have gone.  The middle two got me to New York for years, where I saw great art and had great food.  The oldest got me to the midwest and introduced me to the Minneapolis Art Museum, the Detroit Institute, and the best farmer's market I've ever seen.  Our youngest gave us an entree into Philadelphia, where we saw art shows and the liberty bell and constitution hall.  We visited her in Paris.  We visited the other daughter in Spain, then Prague, then Morocco twice.  And our first trip abroad was with all four kids to visit the older two's stepmom and brother, in Ireland.  We saw London, Scotland, a bit of Wales and Ireland, and we've been back to Ireland and England to visit. 

So we owe the kids a lot.  We've done traveling on our own as well, and I usually say my favorite trip was Egypt, but Morocco is right up there.  I loved the medinas, the souks, the riyads, the roman ruins, the storks, the friendliness of the people, the food.  When my best friend and I visited, my daughter set us all up with a cooking class in Fez, and that was truly a feast.  I love every single craft they have in the souks, and the light, the mosaics, the desert, the mountains are spectacular.  My friend and I rode the trains, which are safe and efficient, and our time in Marrakesh was magical.  We'd sit on the rooftop of our riyad and see out over the old city.  It was a maze of streets, but we were off the big plaza and somehow always found our way back.  My daughter and her husband helped us find rugs in the mountains, and I have a Berber blanket straight off a camel in my living room, draped on my sofa.  I have two red leather poufs, and charming ceramics.  Great memories.

Old Age Day by Day November 9, 2013

I have a friend who is 83 today.  She's amazing, and has energy up the wazoo.  She is recovering from a second cornea transplant right now.  She is a hands on grandmother to four, and very active with a singing group and going to concerts and plays.  She clearly treasures being alive and in this world.  She always has a plan.  She was a kindergarten teacher and I think some of that energy rubbed off permanently. 

I'll be taking her a little gift today, and on my way looking at a fabric store for holiday projects and stuff to make for my grandchildren.  I adore looking at material.  It may have everything to do with my parents being in the garment industry.

I had a nice lunch with a friend yesterday and we shopped a bit, but didn't see anything interesting.  We're content to just look, as we both are trying to pare down rather than accumulate more stuff.  I wish you could still browse for DVDs, but that era is over.  If a store even has them, it's severely limited, and just the usual blockbuster stuff.  I'm going to start looking at used DVDs in used bookstores.  I used to like discovering a film I never knew existed, and finding hidden gems.  But now that can't really be done.  Yes, I can look online and yet, that is overwhelming unless you know what you're looking for.  Oh, well, DVDs are a thing of the past.  As is so much in my lifetime.  The landfill aspect is dreary.  Now everything is built to destruct in a couple of years so you can buy it again, or set up, as with the smartphones, so it's lucrative to steal it and the companies have you buying again and again.  Why do people tolerate this?  I've no idea.

Old Age Day by Day November 8, 2013

I received an email from an old friend who lives in Florida.  She was a year ahead of me in school, when we were children, and moved to the west coast after college graduation with her husband.  My parents were mentors to them both, and godparents to their daughter.  When they retired they sold their house here and moved to Florida.  Now they are trapped there and cannot sell to move back here where their daughter still lives.  She has many health problems, and I feel for her dilemma.  It was good to hear from her, but I haven't been out to the east coast in years, and I don't like Florida.  My aunt and uncle retired there, and we visited a few times, but I don't get the allure.  It's hot, buggy, full of malls and traffic, and politically foreign to me.  How horrible to think you are making a savvy decision and discover you have trapped yourself in a place you cannot leave.  After my uncle died, my aunt couldn't wait to sell the house and move.  In two months she had said goodbye forever to Florida and moved to Colorado Springs, where her sisters brother-in-law and niece and nephew lived.  People are more important than place or bargains.  I've never forgotten that lesson.  And if my friend moved back, it would be to a small condo somewhere, as she could never buy back into her neighborhood or with a house as nice as the one she had.  I sure wish them well, and hope someone buys their house, but it's literally been years, and no one has been interested.  It's a nice house with pool and dock.  But it is where a hurricane destroyed a lot of property, and no one dares to be there any more.  It has not come back. 

I see my friend when she visits her daughter, so I'll see her next year, no doubt.  But I wish I could help her out of this mess, and I cannot.  I pray she has a lucky year next year.

Old Age Day by Day November 7, 2013

I had a nice time with my foster granddaughter yesterday.  We "snacked" then I was the audience for her piano and singing practice, and then we watched "Fly Away Home" and then designed costumes for a play she and some other girls are putting on.  Then her mom and toddler sister showed up, and her sister at 16 months is talking up a storm, drawing like a manic and full of the "no"s.  She's adorable.  Both girls, having been redheads all along, are now turning blond.  Only mommy remains a fiery redhead.  I'm partial to the color because my brother is a redhead.  Blond or no, they all have the temperment.  I adore them.

Last night my granddaughter two states away called, and she talked a long time about the weather, our drought, how she could invent an airplane that would go up in the sky and get the rain from over her house, then fly here to dump it on us.  I pronounced it a capital idea, but said in the meantime she could put a bucket out, and next time I drove up there I'd bring the bucket home with me.  She was pleased with her Halloween costume, and fascinated by my broken bone in my foot.  It was so sweet to talk to her.

I'm reading the new John Grisham novel, and it's a follow up on "A Time to Kill".  He has a great way with legal complexities and the small town south.  He knows how to charm.

Today I'm having lunch with a friend and meeting at the metaphysical bookstore, which is as dusty and musty and funky as it sounds, but pretty adorable.  We both try to buy books there to keep it in business.

Old Age Day by Day November 6, 2013

I just finished Dave Eggers' "The Circle", and it is an amazing read.  He tackles the subject of online life and is fearless about his dark view of what it brings.  The Circle is a Google-like company and a young woman, Mae, is hired there due to her college friendship with Annie, who is a star in the company.  It reads like a mystery or Stephen King, but Eggers is serious about his concerns about the commercializing and privacy erasing effects of online culture.  I can't recommend it enough.  I almost didn't buy it because I thought I knew the drawbacks, but I learned a lot and kept seeing hints of these dangers in events today. 

I am such an admirer of Dave Eggers.  He's a terrific writer, and an amazing person doing so much good in the real world for people.  He began a program for children writing that is now all over the world.  "Zeitoun", his non-fiction book about Katrina and Louisiana, brought it all home for me.  I love "Hologram for a King" and "What is the What" and "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" as well.  He runs a publishing company, "McSweeney's", a magazine, and publishes public interest books.  He's a whirlwind of activity.

Today I have my foster granddaughter and we'll be doing stuff around the house, given my foot.  I'm thinking of making tree ornaments out of felt.

Old Age Day by Day November 5, 2013

My husband returned from the cabin yesterday afternoon and we went to a cafe close by for dinner.  Then he watched a marathon of Antique Road Shows on TV, while we waited to pick up our younger daughter and her boyfriend from the subway.  We had a long talk about how often we'd seen anything on the Roadshow that we would actually want - rarely - for both of us.  Some items are fascinating, but I wouldn't pay money to own them.  Last night we saw a midcentury modern black dining table that we both liked, but would not go anywhere in our house.  I sometimes see Native American baskets or artifacts I covet, but I could not afford them.  Once in the blue moon there is a painting I like.  I love rugs, but rarely see one I'd have.  The furniture is mostly impossible, the lamps gaudy, the pottery too this or that.  The jewelry, no, not my thing.  Tapistries - I don't think so!  Civil war or gun anything - no way Jose!  Samplers, those scary antique dolls and the like, who collects those and why?  Silver, no, jade, no, Tiffany anything, no, as they all look like reproductions but if you break them, tragedy. 

Do I think the owners' reactions are sincere?  Only one in a hundred.  Are they all going to treasure their find more?  Most are heading straight to the auction house, give me a break. 

I can see you can tell I'm slightly cynical, which is why mostly I don't watch and my husband does.  What is fascinating is the range of stuff collected and the stories around the find or handing down of the item.  It's a storybook on TV.  And a good way to get some knitting done.

Old Age Day by Day November 4, 2013

The brunch for my friend turned out well.  It was a bright sunny day, and everyone plus a couple more showed up and my friend seemed really pleased.  I got to see some friends and meet new people, and the clean up wasn't even that bad.  I was exhausted last night, but being on my feet too many hours took its toll.  In the afternoon another friend and I went to a small quilt show nearby in a house that turned out to be somebody's I knew from my kid's school.  The quilts were so creative and gorgeous.  The show inspired my friend and I to think of beginning a similar group, and starting small, with something the size of a placemat.  We both decided we might be up for that.  Then we saw an open house on the street above us that my friend was curious about, and it had magnificient views.  The house had interesting bones and a gorgeous dark wood entry and staircase, but the rest had been whitewashed, literally, and staged with super modern super boring furniture.  It would take a huge amount of money to get it back in shape, but undoubtedly somebody with a lot of money will take it on for the views.  I couldn't negotiate the upstairs or downstairs, with my boot on, but got reports from my friend.  She drove me to the quilt show and the house, and then, and I call this above and beyond the call of friendship, put out the garbage and recycling bins for me.  What a pal.

Last night I tried to watch a bit of PBS TV, but it was something called "Paradise" and it was too upstairs downstairs for my taste.  I don't like those series, not the old one or the new, and I'm sick of British class strife and turmoil.  That kind of thing has never gripped me.  It seems to expose what is already vastly overexposed, and I think I have the American revolutionary reaction to the lives of the British.  I read Evelyn Waugh in my time, but that was in my twenties, and living in a British colony took all the romance out of their lives.  I am Scottish and Native American, and the whole thing just appears to be rubbish to me.  I can't do the Tutor movies, or regency dramas or Howard's End.  Not my cup of tea.

Old Age Day by Day November 2m 2013

My friend rescued me last night to pick me up for dinner.  We had meatloaf and mashed potatoes, plus prosecco.  I came home and watched "The Bodyguard", which shows how mentally alert I was.  I have figured out that the boot is actually a total deterrent to walking.  It's as long as my leg and as wide as my butt, doesn't fit on stairs, and chafes my leg.  The whole idea really is to keep me from moving at all, and also, if I do move, to kill me and keep me from noticing.  After I walk on it a while, my knee on my other leg begins hurting, as it gets twisted trying to get the bad foot to move.  It's all quite annoying.  My problem is there are stairs going up to my house, stairs in my house and stairs to go to my studio, where my computer is.  The boot doesn't do stairs.  Yesterday I came around the side of the house to avoid the stairs to the front door.  That helps somewhat.  Today I'm going to attempt to take a shower and wash my hair.  That is my sole goal for today.  Frightening, isn't it?

I'm not as grumpy as I sound.  But close.

Old Age Day by Day November 1, 2013

Well, I've seen the podiatrist and have a boot to wear when I'm walking.  It will take 4-6 weeks to completely heal.  I can drive, and don't have to wear the boot when I'm not walking.  Still, it's not what the cool folks are wearing this season.  We got up at 5:45 am to take our younger daughter and her boyfriend to the airport.  They're going to a wedding in Philadelphia of one of his countless cousins.  I hope they have fun. 

I'm reading a good mystery, and read an even better one right before my fall.  It helps to have engaging material when you've got your leg up and icing it.  We watched "Lincoln" last night, and I still marvel at the acting and beautiful cinematography.  We were only interrupted twice:  we had exactly two groups of trick-or-treaters.  It's sad, but I understand.  Every house on our street has too many steps, and it's just not efficient.  I gave two ziplock bags to my daughter and her boyfriend to take on the plane.  And my husband will eat the rest.  He's looking forward to it.

I got a email with a bunch of lovely photos of our granddaughter last night.  She looked adorable, and she helped make her own costume.  Pretty cute snow princess!