My busy day

 

In recognition of National Sons Day,
here are the two main men in my life. 
Can't believe I've known them fifty years.
With apologies to Christian, Brandon, and my four grandsons
all of whom I love dearly.

Somehow I, who has weeks with no daytime plans, overbooked myself for today. I started the day with a ten o’clock doctor’s appointment for a wellness check. I have reached this advanced age without a wellness check, though my good friend Jean proudly reported a couple of weeks ago that she had passed her cognitive test (she’s probably seven or eight years younger than I). I had the fleeting thought that I hoped no one gave me that test, and then I forgot to worry about it.

But today, in the doctor’s office, I was confronted by it. The nurse, now an old friend after many years, administered it, and we had some good laughs along the way. The test was a series of questions she asked, ranging from “Are you depressed?” to “Can you dress yourself?” and “Are you eating well?” Because of what I had just weighed, I wanted to say, “Yes, apparently too well.” But the memory part was the intimidating thing. She read off a name and address, asked me to repeat it several times, and then said she would ask me a series of questions and would then, five minutes later, ask me to repeat the name and address. For the life of me, I can’t remember what questions came in between but they were innocuous, and I passed. And then I correctly repeated the name and address. The nurse and Jordan declared I made an A+. Then came the questions about my ability to care for myself—those are always frustrating because you only get to say “yes” or “no,” and I always want to say, “Wait! Let me explain!” Anyway, I passed, and the doctor seemed to think I was doing okay too. So a flu shot and a stick for bloodwork, and we were out of there.

We were in the doctor’s office longer than expected, and I was in a yank to get home because Melinda, who worked with me at TCU, was bringing lunch. I had ordered sandwiches from a local shop, and she picked them up on her way from a dental appointment. The visit was great, the sandwiches a disappointment. The bread on her veggie sandwich was swimming in so much grease, she couldn’t eat it and only picked at the ingredients; my salmon croquette was slathered with sauce and in what I thought was a ciabatta roll—really hard to pick up. I ended up eating the croquette with a fork. Cole slaw was crisp and fresh but not particularly flavorful.

The visit on the other hand was great. It’s been well over a year since we got together, and we caught up on families and friends and almost ignored the subject of TCU Press, our common stomping grounds, except for a bit of gossip. Fun.

But I practically rushed her out the door because I needed a nap before a four o’clock taping of the radio show I mentioned yesterday. There was an equipment snafu at the beginning, but the show overall went well. I could say most of what I wanted to say, mainly that The Most Land, the Best Cattle: The Waggoners of Texas, is less a history of the ranch, for which I am sure many records survive, down to the penny, but a history of the Waggoner family, for which few authentic records survive, and some of them are closed to research at the family request. They are in the Red River Vally Museum in Vernon, Texas. Beyond anecdotal evidence, many things are left to supposition, like why Electra Waggoner Biggs was so anxious to sell the ranch that she wouldn’t wait to divide it between herself and the other direct heir—Bucky Wharton, grandson of the first Electra. Lots of unanswered questions remain. But I am moving on.

To my chagrin, my busy day ended with a whimper and not a bang. I had signed up to register voters, via my computer, from 5:30 to 8:30. I admit I was dreading it a bit—I don’t like working phone banks, but this seemed different, urging people to vote without treading on the delicate subject of who they would vote for. I logged on to the site but the brief training session was complicated enough that it went by me in a flash, and I gave up. It is, however, a cool program that offers you a script. For instance, if you ask if a person is registered, the screen flashes a panel of buttons for you to choose from to reflect the answer: Not registered, yes registered, not sure, want to register, etc. You click the appropriate answer and move on to the next segment of conversation. I’m sure once you knew what you were doing, it would be fine.

But, tonight, I didn’t know. I think a huge part of the blame—and, yes, I feel guilty—is that I am really tired after a long, intense day. As I write this, I feel myself starting to doze off. So maybe it’s best I backed out, but I really wanted to be part of the effort for fair elections, and I saw this as a much better opportunity than the redistricting the Republicans want to do. So I wrote and apologized. Don’t know if I’ll try again on a calmer night or not.

And that was my busy day. As I’m falling asleep over the keyboard, I’m off to bed.