February 11, 2010

A Thursday Day

Himself: We agreed, one stuffed chicken breast from Henry’s each was too much.
Herself: Learning how much to eat as the New Us is a series of hard won experiences. Gaining be me. Explaining to the vascular surgeon is not going to be fun. Feeling isolated. Missing all my friends at the Park.
Reading: One of the newer Cadell’s arrived seems stiff….as if she were writing to be going through the motions. Still it is better than many other authors late work.
Balance: Om!

I thought yesterday was Thursday. All morning, I worked hard on Thursday things only stopping when the Geeezer insisted it was Wednesday.

In many ways I felt cheated. I didn’t have to rush to finish the poem and pictures. I didn’t get to pick up Georganna and take her to the Literary Ladies meeting. My day suddenly became unstructured and free, and I was lost.

Oh, I gathered the day in my hands and made it work, but still it felt like Thursday.

I took one of the tired blue pillow covers with me, and trailed by G bought some fabrics at JoAnne’s that almost matched for the new quilt. Himself picked the right blue while we both argued about the cutting. Horrible customer service. I agreed with himself, you gotta have the right blue in a blue quilt.

We stopped by The Salvation Army Store….no fat lady pants, but G found six horrific new ties. I moved onward to the fat lady used clothes store where they did have two pair of denims in my new and larger size.

When one is stuck on the wrong day, life seems nothing but a collection of views from behind a fence.


  1. You speak the truth. That happens more often than I like these days. In retirement you can quickly lose track of the days. I wonder if America would be better off if it were less focused on time? Probably not.

  2. oh dear. funny that sort of thing seems to happen when you are lulled into a quiet existence.

  3. With all the snow this week I haven't had any days, or they all feel the same. Tomorrow won't be Friday, either, because Robin and Steve are going to Chicago and there will be no Shabat dinner.
    Next week will be better, I hope.


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Peter in front of a wall sculpture. We were invited up to Peter Knego’s home to see the latest installation.   Abstract flat ...