Life Goes on

When you're really feeling bad, so bad you don't have the energy to think about food or brush your teeth, it's hard to imagine you'll ever feel better. But I really do. I'm back at work, going full steam, trying to make up for time lost. I started today with a doctor's appt.--I'm better but not 100% over it; not contagious however so I can go to Houston this weekend. Went to the office and then to meet old and dear friends for lunch--he was my ex-husband's trainer when Joel was a resident and then his senior partner. Years ago I told Connie that when I was a single parent I always had the feeling Russ was looking over my shoulder and would take care of me, and she said he would have. I remember as a resident's wife I was sort of scared of him or intimidated or something, but now we're old friends. We laughed a lot--and were quite honest about some people we've known--and when I ordered the twice-baked potato, Russ changed his order and said he'd have that too, and that's what we all three ended up with. Halfway through the meal, Russ looked at Connie and said "What am I eating?" Connie is a wonderful caretaker but quite forthright with him, as when she said, "Neither one of us know what you're talking about." They're moving to a northern suburb to be near their son next week, so I was particularly glad for today's luncheon--I'll see them again but not as often as I have. It's funny to think how relationships grow and change over the years--maybe as I've grown and changed and become my own person.
After lunch though, boy, was I ready for my nap. John said to me tonight that pneumonia will do that to you, so I immediately began to worry about getting worn out at our family get-together in Houston for Easter. But I think I'll just beg off whenever I need to.
Tonight I cooked for myself for the first time in two weeks or longer--stuffed a zucchini with the core of the zucchini, bread crumbs, sauteed onion and celery, and then put cheese on it to bake. Pretty good, and for once I didn't overcook the zucchini until it was mushy--this was almost crisp enough to need a knife.
Two days ago I wrote in a frenzy on my novel--ideas kept tumbling out of my fingers. But last night I only wrote a dull little piece that covered some necessary business--a funeral. But I have ideas percolating in my mind, and I guess I'll just have to let them percolate. In a way, nearing the end of the novel, I'm afraid--afraid of how to work it all out, afraid of the word count, just downright intimidated. But I am distracting myself with a J.A.Jance novel I hadn't read before.
I'm so glad I live in the technological age--my oldest granddaughter sent me a text message today about whether or not I as getting rid of my convertible. I guess her dad told her I thought, maybe for a day, that I'd get a Smart Car. But I loved writing back and forth with her. Have a few texting questions to ask the cyber folks this weekend--like is message length limited?
Oh, it may be time for another nap!

Darkness and Silence

This mornng at about three o'clock, every light in my house blazed The electricity had been off since Wed. at 6:30 in the evening--two nights and a day. When it went off, all the lights were on because it was the proverbial dark and stormy night, so when the power came back the house was lit up like I was having a party. The lamp in my bedroom went on, which woke me, and I crawled out of bed to turn out lights throughout the house.
Wed. night I was bummed about the lack of electricity--tried to go to bed early but couldn't sleep, tried to read by candlelight but couldn't do it and gained a new appreciation for Abraham Lincoln. The next morning dressing was hard--my bathroom is a windowless cave, so I rigged a dressing table--a mirror propped up by books--in the family room to put on my makeup by the window (thank goodness it was a sunny morning). Without a blow dryer, I had to wing it on my hair. But by last night I had things more manageable--my neighbor and I had supper from a restaurant down the street so we didn't have to open our refrigerators, and then I read on the porch until I couldn't see. Came in and did some "piddling around' stuff, and then settled down with a manuscript by candlelight--much easier to read than the small print in the book I'm reading.
I learned a couple of things in this dark period--first, I really can survive without my computer on all the time, though it was hard for me. I also missed watching the evening news--I want to keep up with what's going on in our poor old world. But the thing that struck me most was how eerily silent a house without electricity is--we're used to the a/c sounds, the refrigerator clicking on, the washing machine or dishwasher going. Without all that it's almost spooky. Sue next door said last night she opened a window, lit a candle, and sat in her favorite chair reading. She heard all kinds of things she wasn't used to--people talking as they walked their dogs, laughing as they came home late from who knows where. Sue said it made her feel like she was eavesdropping but I thought she should have felt cheered that she lives in a real neighborhood, in the best sense of the word.
The storm itself was something to behold. I was dressed to go to a program, but the friends I was going with and I kept trading phone calls and delaying our departure--finally we just cancelled the whole thing. I've seen rain and flat line winds in Texas before but not often--it was amazing to stand at the front door and watch the rain blow down the street, which was soon at least ankle-deep in water. I was fortunate and did not have any damage but throughout the city there are huge trees uprooted and many home suffered flooding from overburdened sewers and runoff that came too fast. Jean and Jim, with whom I had evening plans, said they got 3.5 inches in about 20 minutes.
Before all that I had intended to go to the program--a presentation by one of our authors who is also one of my favorite people, the prof who hand-carried me through graduate school. His book, Boys' Books, Boys' Dreams, and the Mystique of Flight, studies the series books for boys of the '30s, '40s, and '50s and their importance in shaping the aereonautic culture of our country. Jim, a pilot, would have found it fascinating, and I'm sorry we missed it. The show went on--with only about 15 people there.
After the program I intended to come home and blog, but now I can't remember what I was going to say except that the new medication is making me feel worlds better. I may not be ready to jump on a plane to Canada or drive to California, but my footing is more sure and my peace of mind is greatly improved. I don't wake with a sense of dread any more. Of course, old fears are hard to forget--and I have to remind myself that I can do things easily now that I wouldn't have tried a month ago. I haven't given up my walking stick--Sue says it's a fashion statement now, and I'm actually looking for a new one--I saw a shorter one with a silver head in the hardware and I think it would make a nice go-to-church stick.
I'm also looking for one of those painted screens people used to use to cover their fireplaces in summer--Jacob makes a beeline for the fireplace every time he is at my house. He smiles most engagingly when we tell him, "No! Hurt you!"
A week from tonight I'll be expecting the whole gang--and cooking up a storm.