So far, a good week

Sophie does not care about elections like I do.

Maybe Tuesday evening is too soon to call it a good week, but this one is starting out well (hear that sound? It’s me, knocking on wood). Last night, Jordan, Christian, and I went to visit friends Subie and Phil Green in their new apartment at Trinity Terrace and were so impressed by how spacious it is, how well laid out, and how comfortable. Windows on the south and west provide a great view—well, okay to the west, it’s the parking lot but the city is beyond and to the south it’s mostly the roof of First Presbyterian. Their patio is the first one in that complex I’ve thought I would venture out on, because it’s only the third floor. Deliver me from Jean’s seventeenth floor balcony! I told Subie if they’d find me a ground floor apartment with an attached dog yard, I might move. I wouldn’t really, but it was good to see them so happily settled.

Most interesting part of the evening: their neighbor in the building is a man who grew up in the house where I lived for twenty-five years and where Jordan, Christian, and Jacob now live. Christian even found a place where he had carved his name—Kenneth Jones—into the cement in our now-crumbling driveway. Kenneth was born in the house next door to the west, moved to our house when he was five, and lived here until he married, at which time he and his bride moved to the house next door to the east. “We were working out way down the block,” he said. He had memories of when there was no Forest Park Boulevard and University Drive stopped at the river. Fascinating evening, and I certainly hope to see more of him.

Tonight was Mary Dulle’s happy hour night, but she brought longtime friend Sharon Benge with her. It was great to catch up with Sharon and particularly to hear her report on her oldest son. Years ago, Sharon and I lived in the same close-knit neighborhood, and I can still remember her and Bill sitting in our dining room and announcing they were expecting their third child. Fun memories. Sharon’s late husband always used to call to check on me, and I truly appreciated him. There are no friends like old friends.

Tonight I made a retro appetizer—stuffed celery. I tried hard to string it but didn’t get all the strings. Still I liked it a lot, better apparently than any of my guests. I used pub cheese that comes in a carton but spiced it up with a recipe I found.

During the day so far I have made my goal of a thousand words a day—that’s purely a goal I set for myself, but I figure it’s a way to keep up the momentum. If I don’t do something like that, I’ll never get this book written. I am reminded of the saying of Ivan Doig—I think that’s the author—who said writing is like driving when you can only see as far as the headlights. Certainly true for me with this book—my mind is usually only one scene ahead of where my writing is. I have no idea how the silly thing is going to end—but that’s good, because you as reader will not be able to guess the end. At least that’s my hope.

I’ve also dealt with a host of business/housekeeping details this week—a bill for last year’s mammogram that was settled in April, but in October the insurance company asked the provider for (and got) a refund which then became a balance for me to pay—can they do that? I will file yet another protest. The upholstery cleaners I like so much are coming by to pick up a newly cleaned cushion which has a new stain—and Sophie is going to the vet so maybe we can figure out why we’re getting these small puddles. I had to reschedule my dentist appointment, since my covid cough is almost gone, and call an arborist because our lawn guy says our trees really, really need professional trimming. It’s always something. My to-do list included a book to order, a curbside menu to check up on, all the little stuff that makes up daily living. And I’ve talked to my brother each day—he’s still in the hospital, and yesterday his voice was strong. Today he’s been sleeping off some pain medication that made him crazy (in the words of his wife). It reassures me to talk to him each day.

It's election night across the country, and I am curiously hopeful. One column I follow—Wake Up to Politics—said not to pay too much attention to off-year results, but I think they will give us an indication of which way the political winds are blowing. I can’t believe some of the statistics I read online—like trump, who seems more deranged daily is leading in five key swing states. It’s too early to be alarmed by such, but I would feel better if we had some strong progressive victories tonight—like enshrining abortion in some states.

Sweet dreams, all. Think positive thoughts.