Mostly, in the mornings, I have breakfast, read the paper and then tell my husband we're heading out to check my email in my studio. "We" means me and my female dog. She goes with me, checks out her pee mail then heads back in. If I'm cooking, she's right under my feet. How is it that our house is divided along gender lines? The male dog watches sports with my husband, the female dog reads with me. Very strange.
Today we're going to a brunch in honor of a friend's mother's visit. The mother is 90, and up until now has been living on her own, but now will live in my friend's house. This woman is delightful, sharp, if melancolic, and I've known her twenty some years. I'm glad she's agreeing to be taken care of, and I know the weather here, versus the east coast, will enable her to get out more. My mother died so young, but I have a few close friends with parents in their nineties, and I've seen what a struggle it is to make sure they are safe and respect their independence at the same time. It's tricky.
I'll be glad to see her again, and enjoy the pleasure of a mom who survived.
Then we're off to a restaurant to celebrate our younger daughter's birthday, which is tomorrow. Lots of joy today.
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