So Here are My Stories

Today’s stories. I have not been grateful enough. I believe I should feel gratitude like I can feel fear. I am grateful everyday for Len but I can also be irritated with him. He is the designated house saint. Right now I am grateful that Len is going after the armadillo trap. I will be grateful when said armadillo is dead. I am grateful for the peaches that finally grew on my trees….and for the cobbler I am about to eat. I am grateful for the many resources I have at my disposal….and I am exceeeeeedingly grateful that my potted gardenia bush has lots of buds!

I am wondering—why do hospitals and airplanes have patrons that look homeless? I think planes are worse, actually. People wear pajamas. I don’t like it. I think that it is imperative to dress to the max when you have a medical appointment. Not many others feel that way. Curiously, most of the chemo patients seem to put a lot of effort in how they look….it is an attitude thing…something you can control.

Maybe I have a gall bladder issue. I feel like I have something stuck under my bra’s underwire….this I am wondering because I have at least 10 friends/acquaintances who are sick, hurt, or dying. Yes, Camie, I do sound depressed. I am NOT depressed—just aware.

Tomorrow Joann and I will pick more grapes for jelly. I have never made grape jelly before; last week we picked a bushel and boiled it down for the juice. Now it is all neatly drained and frozen. Jo think’s it should be clearer. Muscadine grapes– are very tart.

Mah Jongg tomorrow.

Mom sleeps constantly. While I was home this weekend we barely communicated except for about 30 minutes using the dry erase board. She is often confused—stuck in the past with dead brothers and sisters. She doesn’t recognize her nieces and even David in photos. Please God let her go easily.

On my way to SAT I had a ‘Coke date’ with my old beau, Tom. He is an interesting man and it is always nice to see him.

Today’s shame and guilt: In New Mexico there is a woman from the St. Bonaventure Indian Mission who delivers water to a community on a Navajo reservation. This area is considered ‘water-poor’ – about 1/3 of the 50,000 households are in dire straights. The drought has exacerbated their already desperate need. I read that the average Navajo family lives on 7 gallons of water a day. I use 7 gallons every time I turn on the faucet. I am bearing up under a ton of shame. America, we have our hands full.

I am considering removing the NYT app from my phone….I am hooked and living up to my addict status. I read it every hour—at least. We are in a world of hurt and I really believe that there is little hope our country can unite enough to keep going…fall of the Roman Empire. Enough. I want to live in the bosom of joy and laughter. I keep thinking of the song, “Those Were the Days My Friends.”



One Response to “So Here are My Stories”

  1. Carol Ann Esposito Says:

    Love you, you make me ponder, sniffle and laugh!

    Carol Ann Esposito Please excuse my brevity, sent from my iPad.


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