24 HOUR SEASON OF RENEWAL

I wasted Friday because I thought it was Saturday.

All week long I’ve been 24 hours ahead of schedule.

I’d like to say I’ve been so busy with new projects, that I got so sidetracked, I jumped the gun – so to speak – and the excitement of the moment catapulted me a jump ahead in time: that would be a lie. I have been busy … but not that busy.

I believe the upcoming “holiday”: Memorial Day – when the dead are celebrated and cemetery plots are decorated, is the culprit.

I am aware the Day is arriving … and I plan on being in Eden Valley on Monday to visit our plot, and place silk flowers on familial 3 plots – ours, where Bob’s earthly remains lie, his Father’s, & his Grandparent’s: these are placements of people I loved, and who loved me; I will honor their memories by honoring their plot upkeep. For several mornings running this week, I’ve woke up at the crack of dawn (Bob’s waking time – he was the early bird, I was the night owl); I was missing him. BIG TIME.

Over the past 526 nights and subsequent mornings, I’ve gotten used to the vast empty space on his side of the bed – but this morning it bothered me: Memorial Day jitters. So, when I woke up this morning at the crack of dawn, I didn’t lie there staring into space, leisurely waiting for my senses to fully waken; or reach for his smart phone to entice some degree of comfort by playing one of the games he’d downloaded – I quickly jumped out of bed and set my thoughts on-/my mind towards washing the car, inside and out, as soon as it was considerate to do so: I’ll vacuum the interior this afternoon …

To be honestly truthful, I haven’t washed a car in at least a decade – I wasn’t even sure I could get all the way through the process without losing steam and finishing up with a half-assed job that would look worse than leaving the car alone in its sad Pigpen state.

But, I needed something to DO and some way to redirect the antsyness; so I got busy with the car – it needed washing; the muddy road muck, drifting fine powdery residue from passing street traffic, and gathering yellow tree pollen was pretty thick on the car’s exterior: I was getting mighty embarrassed taking it out into public. While I prefer the back roads and byways where it doesn’t matter that the car was filthy due to Toyota discontinuing car washing perks for their Premiere Customers, and the lack of charity fund-raiser-curbside car washing due to inslee’s inane and aimless State lockdown, occasionally I do drive into town – if only to purchase groceries and TP now and then. People see the car.

It got washed.

People walking past the house yesterday, watching me wash the car, commented on the house and garden area: “You have a very nice home” & “Love your garden area”. THANK YOU, BABE!

One man walking by, knew Bob; and they often talked when they met – he has been in and out of the hospital himself these past months, so he hadn’t known of Bob’s graduation; so, I told him that Bob was now a resident of Heaven for the past 17 months.

17 months/9 days/5 hours & 43 minutes – right now: this very second.

Washing the car brought back memories of Bob telling me how to wash/detail my first car – the little Horizon hatchback he bought me. I remembered how proud he was of me when I finally broke down and got my driver’s license … he bought me that hatchback right off the showroom floor the first weekend he got back home (he was working 5 days a week away from home at the time: the reason I finally got my DL). I was so happy with that little car – and felt so loved that my husband would buy me a new car, there wasn’t a month of good weather that the car wasn’t washed/detailed.

Yesterday I felt Bob’s love and encouragement – “You can do this, Honey” all around me (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/05/grief-is-heartbreaker.html).

I was able to complete the task without running out of steam. I was wet and the hems of my jeans/sneakers were soaked, but my muscles held out, my lungs/heart behaved; and I felt fabulous putting the bucket, brush, and wash rag away … and backing the car back into place in the carport, all spiffy looking and smart feeling ;-)

I did a fine job of it – this will happen more frequently now :-D

While my lungs did behave and didn’t seize up due to the next-door neighbor’s rampant black mold issue, and wildly out-of-control unmowed grass … it still irks me that Tessa’s house, next to ours, is the ONLY house in the WHOLE Park of 850+ homes that looks like a rat-infested fire trap. And it gets worse looking every year:

THIS is the house candy scott says “Tessa told me the house has been professionally painted and maintained”. Hmmm. Candy wheels her fat ass around the Park on her golf cart nazi patrols, looking at everyone else’s house and writing citations for “infractions” …. But somehow, Tessa’s house is ALWAYS OVERLOOKED and bullshit flows freely from candy’s mouth in relation to this rat-trap house and yard.

When we moved into the Park in 2017, we would walk around the Park, hand in hand, admiring the other homes and their landscaped Lots; we felt lucky and blessed to be here. I am trying to continue to feel lucky and blessed (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2017/07/downtime-day.html).

Some days, it gets hard. Real hard.

Houses like this one are FORBIDDEN in this Park … yet, candy has done NOTHING but look the other way when she drives past it to find faults in other homes …

Despite candy sending out these Newsletters, NOTHING is being done about the house next door. I don't expect Tessa's house to look any different than it does now ... unless I get new neighbors - and no one is going to buy that filthy house with an over-grown yard. That house is a disaster waiting to happen ... and it's too close to mine!

The gray clouds overhead parted, and the sun made a meager attempt to shed some sunshine, so I decided to plant my sprouted corn seed – as well as a few other transplants – in the garden area.

The cool, wet weather is making it nice for the cabbages, peas, beets, tomatoes, lettuce, nasturtiums, ect. And so far, the river winds haven’t knocked baby apples off the tree branches – I may actually get a few pies out of the trees this year:

I saw a few big snails, as did my neighbor, Trudy in the back Lot. We talked a bit over the fence, and she invited me to go walking with her at Willow Grove next week sometime: I accepted – we’re aiming for a 4 mile hike around the perimeter trails.

I was happy to see this!

When we moved into this house the end of June 2017, we worked together to make it our home – inside and out. We were building something we perceived as being long-lasting, rich in love, and vibrant: we were building another chapter of life together. We pulled carpets and laid wooden floors, we switched out the ostentatious out-of-date light fixtures and replaced them with more laid-back, homey light fixtures that reflected our style of living. Bob built me planter boxes for a full sized garden … and we placed those along one side of the Lot boundary line; he also bought me 4 rain barrels for my garden water, and built me 4 barrel stands to elevate the barrels for maximum benefit: ron cook and candy scott would raise hell about the boxes and the barrels … which would result in my husband’s death 3½ months after the last planter box and barrel would be set in place (Bob had only lived in this house with me for 18 months): ron was paranoid of my Patio Apple Trees, and candy refused to acknowledge the previous Manager’s OK on the planter boxes. Ron’s continued harassment, and candy’s continual bitching on ron’s behalf killed my husband with undue and ridiculous stress. It never stopped – Bob’s life on Earth did.

This is all I have now, of our life together. Some days it's hard to continue living here; real hard.

Continuing to honor my husband’s last request, “Keep the house, Val” has been hard. candy is still the manager here, and ron is still a tenant here – though he is no longer my next-door neighbor, thank Elohim. Nearly 3 years later and numerous ER visits (asthma related ER visits from the black mold/grass complications) I am STILL waiting for candy to do something about Tessa’s mess next door.

My carport is right next to that mess – it can’t be directly avoided.

Elohim has been faithful to keep me from severe asthma flareups in my solo lobo sojourn. Elohim is my husband now; I have been incredibly blessed to have 2 husbands (Elohim and Bob) in my life that love/loved me, and constantly protected me and looked out for me. I am thankful I did not have to use my emergency inhaler today while being out there next to the heavily-laden grass heads while I was washing the car.

Last year I was moving through life in a foggy haze, trying to hang onto routine to keep me sane following Bob’s exit of this planet – while distancing my emotions from being totally overwhelmed with the sudden aloneness and raw heartache. I planted a garden … but wasn’t always engaged as I should have been – my brain was misfiring and I was constantly dodging financial and emotional vultures who were taking shameless advantages of my hard situation: those companies and family members are no longer in my life this year. The garden last year, wasn’t a total failure, but it wasn’t a celebratory success either: it just was. It was a sad half-assed attempt.

This year, I’m more engaged. I’m hoping for a better turnout.

Last year, I was frequenting charity themed curbside car washes; and I wasn’t ashamed to have the car seen anywhere/anytime/by anybody … this year, those car washes are forbidden by politicized governor decree, and the color of the car couldn’t even be discerned – it was that filthy.

This year, as noted earlier in this post, that has been rectified … and there was nothing half-assed about it: I’m more engaged in the present, and it’s refreshing to know that my body is still capable of strenuous activity. My own personal curbside car wash will continue ;-)

I’m still adjusting.

But I’m gaining strength.

I’m grabbing the bull by its horns and forcing it to turn in the direction I choose – without being gored.

I’m feeling accomplished in many ways/many things.

Finishing up I the garden area, engaging in another 30 minutes of back-fence-chit chat with Trudy, and admiring the shiny clean gleam of the Horizon as I stepped up the porch steps to enter the house, I felt accomplished. I felt pride in my aging body that still has strength to do what has to be done … and does it without kicking up a royal fit. My heart, though, still need adjusting – it continues to feed my new life with memories that causes my eyes to view my new life through tinted lens of what used to be. I never want to forget the memories of the life I had with Bob.

We didn’t meet our friends in taverns after 1981 – and I don’t meet my friends in taverns now; but this song is reminiscent of my currant life, now. The days I spent with Bob, and the days we spent with old friend were, indeed, “the days”.

That was a wonderful life.

But that is over now.

And I want to build another wonderful life.

It is crucial that I live another wonderful life.

The two will never be comparable, but it’s important that the new life gains in robust strength.

I can’t allow what was to overshadow what IS.

And just like that … I got an invitation to join friends for a Memorial Day BBQ on Sunday - despite inslee's shutdown decree; in all my time with Bob, we were never invited to a Memorial Day BBQ. We weren’t invited to many Holiday shindigs from either side of the family, and friends just naturally assumed we’d be spending the Holidays with family.

Video from my recent 2020 Mother’s Day Daytrip – explains why we spent Holidays alone.

I accepted the invite: I’m going :-D

For the rest of my life, as long as Elohei grants me life, I’m going to enjoy time spent with people who include me, and want me in their lives.

People who love me and make a place for me in their lives.

I may have lost 24 hours somewhere along this week’s progression due to the upcoming Holiday (if acknowledging death can be viewed as a holiday); but my friend’s will keep me on track, and Elohim will have my back ;-)

I’m in a season of renewal.

PAIN ORDINAIRE BREAD Recipe

Today is bread baking day, and today is also the first time I’ve made this bread recipe … it won’t be the last!

I like trying new things in the kitchen, so today I tackled a new bread recipe and some new shape techniques. I enjoy new recipes. I learned how to cook by doing it; my mother never taught me – she taught my younger sister, ramona, but she didn’t think it worth her time to invest in me: so, I learned how to cook after I married Bob. He was a willing guinea pig, and his loving sacrificial sufferings through new bride cold spaghetti meals and tearful burnt offerings, as well as his kisses & hugging encouragements to ‘keep trying, honey; you’ll learn’ helped me enjoy the cooking journey through the years ;-)

A trepidatious cook in the early years; when I wasn’t yet confident in my cooking abilities – I’d follow recipe directions, but I was never sure what was actually going to be coming out of the oven. LOL

Now I’m a good cook, and I can bring my offerings to the table with a beaming smile, fully confident they will be appreciated and enjoyed.

My first attempts at bread making were failures all the way around. But I was determined to turn out a good loaf of bread, so I walked to the blue-ribbon bread baker of our small town and knocked on her door. When she opened the door, I said, “I want your secret. I’ve been trying and trying to make a descent loaf of bread for months … spill! What do you do to make your wonderful breads?” She laughed and told me: and I’ve been turning out great loaves of bread ever since – of course, they are nothing at all like hers because she kept and took that spectacular secret to herself and to her grave; but what she told me and taught me is enough. I’m satisfied with my breads, and Bob loved my breads ;-)

This recipe is super simple and rises no fail at a cool temperature :-D

The versatile dough can be formed into several shapes: I made 3 this afternoon – from one making of the recipe ;-)

There are 2 other flavors that can be used to enhance this basic recipe – for the Whole Wheat French Bread, simply substitute 1½ cups finely ground whole wheat flour for the same amount of unbleached all-purpose flour; or create loaves similar to San Francisco sourdough by using 2 cups warm yogurt instead of water.

I just stuck to the original recipe today.

This dough rises light, but it cooks and cools very dense; it will feel heavy when removed from pans.

PAIN ORDINAIRE BREAD (French Baguette) Recipe ~ Makes 4 baguettes

1½ packages dry Yeast or 2 cakes fresh yeast * 1 teaspoon Sugar * 2 cups warm Water or lukewarm water (105-F to 115-F) * 2¾ cups Bread Flour * 2¾ cups unbleached all-purpose Flour * 2 teaspoons Salt * Additional Flour if needed * Cornmeal * 1 Egg white with 1 Tablespoon Water & a pinch of salt for the glaze

Sprinkle yeast and sugar over warm water in a large bowl of a heavy-duty electric mixer; stir to dissolve (I use a regular large bowl and a regular hand mixer … it does work the wrist, so be aware). If using cake yeast, crumble into bowl; stir in sugar and lukewarm water (95-F). **Let either method of yeast mixture stand for 10 minutes to foamy:

Combine bread flour and all-purpose flour together. Add 2 cups flour mixture with salt to yeast mixture. Using wire whisk attachment, or dough hooks, beat 5 minutes to develop gluten ...

Remove wire whisk from mixer and insert paddle attachment if using a heavy-duty mixer. Using low speed, blend in enough remaining flour ½ cup at a time to form dough that clears the sides of bowl. Knead on floured surface until smooth and elastic – kneading in additional flour if dough is sticky (pick dough up occasionally and slap onto surface to develop gluten), 12 minutes.

Grease a large bowl. Add dough, turning to coat entire surface. Cover bowl with plastic. Let dough rise in a cool area until tripled in volume – about 2 hours:

Cool rise – I admit I was skeptical of this method; I’ve never done a cool dough rise before. But it worked beautifully :-D

I finished this knit baby jacket while waiting for the first rise to wrap up.

Gently knead dough in bowl to deflate. Cover and let rise in cool place again until tripled in volume – about 1½ hours.

Sprinkle cornmeal on ungreased baking sheets of French bread pans. Gently knead dough on lightly floured surface until deflated; kneading in additional all-purpose flour if too sticky. Cut into 4 even pieces. *Flatten each piece into a rectangle about 12” in length and roll up jelly-roll style, starting at one long end. Pinch seams to seal. Roll back and forth on work surface until dough is length of pan. Arrange seam side down on lightly cornmealed prepared pans … spacing at least 4 inches apart. Let rise 25 minutes to lighten density.

Rising loaves in a cold oven.

Position oven rack in lower third of oven. Preheat oven to 425-F. Slash top of loaves, using serrated knife. Brush with glaze. Bake until loaves sound hollow when tapped on bottom – about 25 minutes. Immediately transfer to cooling racks. Serve hot, warm, or at room temperature.

My French Bread baguettes.

My 'little mushrooms' - I deliberately made them smaller than the recipe directs.

Variations:

Champignons (“small mushrooms” shape): Cut dough into 6 even pieces. Cut 2/3 of 1 piece of dough and knead into round. Place on prepared sheet. Make well in center. Knead remaining dough piece into a round ball and set in well atop first piece of dough. With floured finger, make hole down center of rounds to baking sheet. Repeat with remaining pieces of dough. Let rise as for baguettes. Bake 20 to 25 minutes.

  

I made much smaller rolls by making a 12” rope and cutting off 1” pieces (12 ct) and shaping as described above.

4 Boules (rounds): Cut dough into 4 even pieces. Knead each into a round shape. Let rise as for baguettes. Slash tops. Bake 25 to 30 minutes.

4 l’epi (“sprig shapes): Cut dough into 4 even pieces. Form each into a 12-inch baguette shape. Using scissors, cut ¾ of the way into each dough at 3-inch intervals. Pull each section out in opposite direction and twist slightly to form loaves resembling wheat sprigs. Let rise as for baguettes. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes.

After seeing my lame sprig (it was so pathetic looking I’m not even going to post a pic), I hunted down this **Youtube video that made the thing appear so simple to do (original recipe instructions of cutting and twisting totally confused me): I’ll refer to this simplified video for a future loaf ;-)

**How to cut an l’epi bread: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN5QL_kaowQ

GRIEF IS A HEARTBREAKER

I am listening to Grand Funk Railroad tonight – I always liked their music and had every one of their LP’s – Bob never like them. But I did, and I played those LP’s back-to-back just about every day. If I had them playing when Bob came home from work and turned down Una Street towards our driveway on Beal … he’d just keep on going down to the Marina and sit the album out before coming home.

I played the stereo he bought me our first Christmas that loud :-D Strangely, the speakers held up – not a bit of static over the years of steady usage and amped volume: Bob bought me a good set of quadrophonic speakers ;-)

Some people would say Bob spoiled me rotten … I prefer to say Bob loved me. A lot.

When I drive to Eden Valley, sometimes I’ll stop by Cathamet at some point. Our old house – the house Bob spent his early teen years in; and the house I came to as a new Bride, and lived in with Bob for 18 years, before we sold it and moved has been remodeled inside and out by new owners. And they’ve taken the old antique apple (not sold anywhere anymore), antique plum (not sold anywhere anymore) & pear trees out; the antique rose bushes are gone too, now (the ones with velvet buds and leaves – not sold anywhere anymore); they’ve raised the ground level along one side of the house, added a side porch, and blocked the wrap-around driveway with a crappy looking wood shed. It has a metal roof now – I remember Bob, his parent’s, and his brother ralph laying roofing tiles down the year Stacey was 3 years old.

1963-64. Bob about 13 or 14 yo.  (L to R) Merry, Bonnie, Bob Sr., my Bob, Kerry, Rose & Ralph - rosie wasn't born yet. Sitting on the front porch of the Cathlamet house.

1982 - the year following Bob's 2nd death (he had been dead and declared dead after a 25 minute no response to CPR. He had gone fishing with his father and brother. They are showing off their haul before cleaning the fish at the half-way mark between the brother's House lot divisions of the Cathlamet property. (L to R) Bob, ralph, Bob Sr.

It hasn’t been ‘our house’ for a long time, but the changes still make me sad when I see that house now.

When I walk past that house, my mind is suddenly flooded with memories. I met Bob in that house. I came to that house as a bride; I became a mother in that house. I grew up in that house.

In my mind’s eye, I can still picture Bob walking through the front door the night we met for the first time face-to-face 46 years ago. And Bob walking through that door after work, and grabbing me for a kiss as he set his thermos and lunch pail on the kitchen counter. I still hear kid’s running through the rooms. I can see the door jamb where I marked each kids’ growth inches – and dated the notations. I see myself looking out the large antique-beveled & leaded-Livingroom picture windows at the Columbia River. I know where our bedroom/each kids’ bedroom was … and where the kitchen door was before the remodel that removed the door and put a window in its place. I remember buying the large Blaze King woodstove and removing the old brick chimney and having a new up-to-date chimney reconstructed and rebuilt up to 1980’s fire code: Bob saved those bricks and built a BBQ firepit.

Our old house, in Cathlamet. Kitchen door used to be where the 3rd window from the right ... and a pink shrub ... is now.

Everything about the house and property is different now - it's dark and gloomy looking/feeling: like no one really lives there anymore. Sad - there was SO MUCH LIFE there when we lived there; openness to let the sunshine in, trees to climb and give us fruit (cut down now); swing sets and play gym, bird houses/feeders, rose bushes, lilac trees, a garden ...

When I got my driver’s license and Bob bought me my little Burgundy Horizon hatchback, I practiced backing up and down this driveway for weeks … using the side mirrors only … until I could do it with my eyes closed. I wanted Bob to know that I HAD BEEN listening :-D

Bob bought my little car right off the showroom floor: he wanted me to have a new car, so me and the kids would be safe. My husband cherished me; and loved his kids.

The 3^rd window from the right corner is where the front porch and kitchen door use to - Bob carried me through that door on our Wedding Night. Now it is no more, just like Bob. The upper windows on the front of the house was Alex’s room when he came to stay weekends, and summers with us. The upstairs dormer windows was where Stacey’s bedroom was – they looked out on the river: and the chimney ran along one side of her room to keep her warm, on cold nights; I remember how she’d always sneak a kitten upstairs to cuddle with before she fell asleep. The bottom window, barely seen now through the wood shed was our bedroom – a lot of happy memories were made and enjoyed there. It had a river view too.

So many memories of a lifetime; a lifetime ago.

Grief is a heartbreaker.

But I am not going to cry … I’m NOT.

NO GO DENTISTRY TRIGGER

I had an early (like crack of dawn) dentist appointment this morning, so I stumbled out of bed and staggered out of the house to get to my appointment. I’m feeling pain on the right side of my face that is bleeding over into my ear region and corner of eye socket, so I wanted to have it attended to before a full-blown abscess happens.

I had called the dentist office last week, and I was told they are only open for emergencies – I think my sore face can be considered an emergency. The pain comes and goes in waves of varying degrees of pain tolerance. It really needs to be attended to.

When I showed for my appointment and entered the building, I had to stop at a ‘sanitation station’ and thoroughly drench my hands in sanitizer liquid before proceeding further. There were 4 of us – and we sat appropriately space … one old fella had 2 masks on/1 over the other: he is obviously in overkill mode.

I had 4 teeth x-rays taken before the Dr. came into the cubby they put me in. She looked at the X-rays, poked at my gums and teeth with a metal prober; then she said that though she did detect some decay in 1 tooth, she didn’t see anything that required immediate attention other than my gums which were sensitive (no news there, I know I have gingivitis), and tarter buildup which needed to be cleaned. Right then I knew nothing would be done today – it’s the same song/scenario, different Dr./location. I almost got mad … I mean, my face hurts and I’m being told there’s nothing that can be done until my teeth are cleaned! Apparently, my gums are the main culprit to the tooth pain I am experiencing. Bone density if good, but the dentist thinks the gums are the real issue. My back teeth do NOT agree – and they tell me so in staggered flashes of pain.

Saline mouth rinses and a jet wash was the recommendation.

I just closed my eyes, counted to ten, and defused my temper.

I didn't need any fillings ... yet; and no extractions at all. But as soon as I can reasonably afford it, I need to schedule a thorough exam and cleaning. The exam I'm okay with and am expecting a report full of "fixes" - a complete and total back-peddling of today's visit which could have been taken care of today: the cleaning I have always hated and am not looking forward to at all. My assessment is that the dentist's eyes were on how fast to spend the Stimulus Check I'm hanging onto for tire replacements when needed (I let Visa go because I don't want to be paying interest on credit - BAD idea all the way around & I never wanted Visa anyway; so I have to make sure I keep tire money out ... the amount Bob said I'd need - ALL 4 have to be changed out if 1 goes bad). I DO LIKE this dentist, BUT dentistry is a business, and businesses are strapped for money due to governor power grabs: the dentist is going to have to stand in line with everyone else to get the $$$$ they are overcharging while sitting on their hands. And that will take T.I.M.E. to save towards. If they weren't in a hurry to take care of business TODAY, I'm in no rush to make their tomorrow's easy. Just sayin'.

I bought a waterpik …

… patted myself on the back for managing to understand the written directions and get it put together: and test-run-using it properly to understand HOW it works:

I am sure Bob was standing next to Yeshua, beaming, and saying, "I married a determined girl ... I always told her she could do anything she set her mind to do. And she's doing it." 

And cried when I put the spare pic away.

In putting the spare pick away in a vanity drawer in the master bath, my fingers inadvertently grazed the black velvet bag that holds the hair clipper set I used to keep my husband’s head bald over the years (his choice – he preferred being clipped to the skin); why I have kept the clippers, I am not sure.

But there they are – in the drawer.

628 days of non-use: Bob isn’t coming back; they will never be used again.

Bob - 2016

And even after standing there by the vanity counter, bawling my eyes out … I could not bring myself to grab them out of that drawer and walk them to the trash can.

They are still in the drawer.

Will keeping the clippers in the master bath vanity drawer undermine my “healing recovery” process? Will walking them to the trash can really speed up my healing recovery process? I don’t know the answer to either nagging question. What I do know is that a healing recovery is not a linear event. People – adjusted merry widows happily going solo, family members with spouses and children, and friends with spouses and children – all keep telling me that as time marches forward, I will be my old self again. Nothing is further from the truth. Time does march forward, but I will never be my old self again: part of me is permanently missing from me. A smell, a song … and moments, like this morning when my fingertips brushed that black velvet bag pushed to the back of the drawer … and many other things that will happen; will suddenly and smartly bring tears to the eyes, a swift dizziness as emotions are rocked, and a nauseating kick to the stomach – physical and emotional reactions that remind me that I am a loooong way yet from a healing recovery; and I will never be my old self again.

Adjusted merry widows, family, and friends mean well, but they obviously do not understand that losing half of your ‘old self’ is not like having a cold from which you rebound. Losing half of your old self is like having chronic bronchitis … I know what that is like: I may be in remission for a period of time, but eventually a flareup will occur that makes life difficult for a while.

So, tonight, I am riding out a flareup of memories caused by a black velvet bag in the back of a drawer, brought on by the storing of an extra waterpic pick.

All because dentistry was a ‘no go’ this morning.