National Poetry Month: Read about Langston Hughes and sample a poem or two.
Himself: Was a rock.
Herself: Dozed for an hour in the sun, and I only noted later that I’d forgotten suncreen at my hairline when I went to scrub my face.
Reading: “Farm Journal Country Cookbook.” There still is a Farm Journal, but there’s nary a recipe to be found. Perhaps farm wives no longer have time for potlucks or visits to the grange which seem to have been an important form of socialization as indicated this 1959 cookbook.
Gratitude: G, two J’s, and Dr. LP.
I was cranky when we got home. Probably the eggs. Thanks to G, I overcame my crankiness and pigheaded confusions. Really not wanting to stay home alone this brilliant sunny day, I joined G in the park. While he worked at the Auto Museum, I took the trolley to the Art Museum and enjoyed many of my old favorites from the permanent collection plus the Crosthwaite pieces. I delighted in the young Shakespearians, and photographed acres of flowers all before dozing with my mouth open on the lowered front seat of the car. I must have been a sight….ah well.
Dinner with the Feasters was to be a welcoming back for Dr. LP. His impish smile was still brilliant, but he looked wan and yellow now almost a month after surgery for bladder cancer. Dr. J looked fine after a prolonged battle with a UTI and his post polio syndrome. For the first time, it was a uncomfortable meal. Dr. LP talked about his recovery and looked better as he ate, WifeJ couldn’t hear, Dr. J was eating a big meal for the first time since he became ill, and their SonJ was didactic. After dinner Dr. J became ill.
Yin and Yang. Balance. Dr. LP is looking forward to life post surgery. He talks about taking his ostomy supplies with him when he travels, taking his Tai Chi classes again, and going back to teaching at the blind center. He misses his teaching.
Dr. J, who blamed his long time office mate for being pigheaded, is stuck now and being pigheaded about it. He’s used his shoulders to move himself about for his whole life. Now they have given out. He won’t get a scooter nor will he have the surgery. While his IBS wins, no one is studying Post Polio Syndrome as Polio has been defeated. No one cares as the last patients from the last epidemic are almost gone.
I just hope I can learn to be wise enough to see my own pigheadedness in action as I grow old and cranky.
Calla Lilies, before.