Things I Wish I Could Do Now (keeping in mind that, as seniors,  we're expected to stay home)

• Spend a whole day, in my bedroom, by myself, and not feel it might hurt Dave
• Pick up a book that I haven't already read
• Stop thinking about bread instead of real food
• Remember something that I used to be able to cook, and have a go at it
• Stay in my nightclothes all day (just once, to see why so many people think it's the thing to do)
• Stop worrying that the haircut I gave Dave is something he's just accepted
• Watch every show from "Brooklyn99" in order
• Get new furniture that isn't brown in the "living room" 
•  Stop changing my fingernails' colour every 2nd day
• Get some of the many things I've ordered online

What I learned from my hair (no, I didn't mean "my head")

Many a year ago

Well, ever since we've been "in the house", I've talked quite a lot about turning myself into a hairdresser-on-her-own-head.  I've almost always coloured my hair myself, although it's a nice grayish colour now, and cut it my own when it was very short, which is easy, or when it was quite long over my ears.  For the most part, it worked and when it didn't I would go to the hairdresser both Dave and I get very good haircuts from. 

Today is the fifth week I've decided that I could have a better haircut, and set out to fix that. Up to yesterday, I was pleased.  Today, I forgot that I intended to live with what I had, and I allowed myself to pick up the for-hair-only scissors and have a go at the hair that covers my ears. Only one of the ears is now actually covered, neatly and mixing well with what I've done to the back.   The other hair over the ear somehow got about half an inch shorter.  

I either have to accept it, which I've done today by braiding some of the hair down the side, making my mistake seem like something I actually want, or by getting my name on the list of our hairdresser, which I'm sure is full for weeks. 

I also intend to take a course on self-esteem.

Looking backward isn't too bad

I ran into something I had written for my first Blog, and it made me laugh to see the person I was back then in 2004. It was a format that showed others what you want them to know:  Anybody want to try it?

I'm a storyteller. I'm a dancer. I'm a necromancer. Not really, but I like the rhythm of those words. Actually, I'm a retired person, still deeply in love, married with three grown children and five amazingly clever grandchildren. I'm not a believer in astrological signs, yet I love my sign: Gemini---it has such a duplicitous base. I was born in the Year of the Horse, yet have no affinity to any animal larger than a cat (or smaller than a cat) I support (with vigour) PFLAG CANADA
Interests	the arts, books, grandchildren, aging gracefully, shoes, glitter, the Orient, little elegant hikes, anti-homophobic and anti-discriminatory acts
Favorite Movies	Volver, Serenity, Zoolander, Now Voyager, Pan's Labyrinth, Eve's Bayou, Magnolia, Batman Begins, Gone Baby Gone, The Hours, Pirates of the Caribbean, Chocolat, Run Fatboy Run, shutter Island, Inception
Favorite Music	Evanescence, Aimee Mann, Danny Schmidt, Shanna and the Hawk, Ron Sexsmith, White Stripes, cello music, baroque trumpet, Meatloaf, Massive Attack, Bright Eyes, Amy Millan, Neko Case, Rufus Wainwright, kd lang, Ryan Adams, Tori Amos, Jann Arden, Ben Lee, Cry Cry Cry, Martha Wainwright
Favorite Books	The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, A Spot of Bother, Lives of the Monster Dogs, Wicked, Deafening, The Hours, His Dark Materials, Across the Nightingale Floor, The Various Haunts of Men, Marie Antoinette, Divining Women, The Book of Bunny Suicides, Peony in Love, The Harsh Cry of the Heron, Away, The Underpainter, Wings of Fire, Remembering the Bones, The Children's Book, The Gods of Gotham, Neverwhere

What was the stage name of your favorite actress before she was born?

Undine Undead

Did she leave a decent tip?

Here it is Friday.  Every two weeks, Friday evening has been the time that Robyn, nine, and Maddy, sevenish come with their mom for dinner and a sleepover.

After dinner, usually made by Dave and Emily, the girls would have a bath in our good-sized tub, and we would work out a drama about them, their careers in the food business and their newly-bought in-the-tub restaurant.  I would come in as their first diner, and they'd tell me how crazy it was in the kitchen but nevertheless, I, as a person who had (sigh!!) to work all over the world, would be given the best table and offered a glass of wine.  

At this point, I would tell them where I had been travelling for the last week, and what I had eaten there.  This was their clue to tell me about the special meal which consistently turned out to be an extraordinary take-on of what I would have eaten on my trip. While I was sipping away at my wine, the manager would come out to ask me if I were pleased, and to ensure me that no matter how well I would enjoy the 5 courses, I would be knocked-out by the dessert the maitre-chef would proudly, himself, bring to my table. 

Suddenly, there would be Emily, reminding the girls that they hadn't yet washed their hair and that it was time for bed.

Wouldn't it be great if this could happen tonight?  It will be again soon, I hope.

Thursday is not my favourite day

Some things I did today inside the house, as we're the kind of people who do what they're told:

• decided that I would pass the day wearing my beautiful purpley-blue dress from Sri Lanka (thanks Asith) and found the right earrings for it
• went through my large basket of nail polish, which I only use on my thumbs, due to a lack of commitment, and discovered I only had two colours I really liked 
• grabbed a book that I've been eager to read, sat down with my coffee, read about 10 pages and realized I'd read it a couple of months ago (it was a really good book; no wonder I was keen)
• browsed through the small recipe box, looking for something I felt like making; reminded myself I don't like to cook 
• had a 45-minute phone call with my sister in Calgary; found things in Alberta are about the same as here
• stood at the window, hoping to see a face that didn't look like Dave's, as much as I love him (feeling kind of shabby about this)
• walked through the house 15 times, following a route that covers as much of our apartment as possible (from the front window, across our living room, dining area into the kitchen, turn out from the kitchen, into each bathroom and the front hall, into our bedroom and back out) missing nothing
• took five minutes to congratulate myself
• found a chocolate bar I'd forgotten about, put back the dish of chips and poured me a glass of wine
• having realized I was kind of enjoying things, I immediately fixed that as I started sorting the clothes in the laundry box , hoping we still had some of the laundry strips I've fallen in love with
• chocolate and wine are winning, not that I ever really believed something else might happen

Stay well!

Raise Your Right Hand, Ms

I knew it was going to happen.

I just didn't think it would be so soon that I would give in to the lack of excitement and cut my hair.  It's still wet, so no photo.

However, it has made me take up thinking.  Again, sooner than I expected.  I have had enough sort-of success cutting my own hair in the past so I felt pretty much that a sort-of success would be OK.

It made me think of two haircut experiences, not on my own hair, that I've obviously pushed way to the bottom of my brain.

One included my sister Mary who is 17 years younger than I am and who allowed me to give her a cut that I'd seen in a magazine.  We sat her on a kitchen stool and pulled her hair up to high on the top-of-her-head elasticized position, then cut off all the hair above the elastic.  You can imagine......actually, I hope I'm still only imagining.  Given that I love my sister sincerely, it's hard to believe I actually did it.

The other focusses on my youngest daughter, Emily. I always cut her hair from the time her platinum blonde first became real to us.  Because it was very thin hair at the time, I thought I could make it sort of pixie-like, and shaggy, and had been doing it for a year or two when one of my gay friends begged me to show some respect for her.  He cried the next time he saw her, 6 months later.

I now and officially beg forgiveness from the two of them.

Lorna Vs Nature

I have never felt I had much interest in nature, and today, I got a chance to see that Nature knew that and intended to reminder me who is boss.

I really felt I should go out for a walk, and remembering that since yesterday, we had had sunshine, rain, more sunshine and snow, I dressed warmly, put on my boots that have little spikes when I need them and headed out from our patio, so I wouldn't have to worry about using the same door that all our other residents will be using, if they go out.

I took about 5 steps, arrived at the place where the lawn leans down to the still-snowy sidewalk, and with my next step, I landed on my back, bumping my head, and slid down about 5 feet to the sidewalk.  For some reason, I thought this was hilarious and I lay there laughing for a minute, then got up, uselessly tried to get the snow off my clothes and headed for the War Museum, which is part of my short walks.  There were a lot of geese there, but no people, so it was pleasant, but getting cold.

By  the way, anyone who knew me before the last 10 years or so, would have been gobsmacked to see that I was wearing warm clothes, not pretty ones, including mittens that would be just the right size for a wrestler.

I had my walk, never saw a person, and headed for home.  By then,  more snow had landed, so I decided to be more careful and got off the sidewalk at the part of the building that was easily reached from the sidewalk....a step or two.  Two steps that left me lying down, this time with my face and knees in the new snow, and there I was again laughing hilariously, but this time, just pissed off a bit. 

I got back in the house with no further excitement, expecting that Dave might baby me a bit, but he just reminded me to be sure to hang my wet stuff .

Not even two dark chocolates and a handful of cashews have brought me back to the sentiments I was hoping for.  And I have a headache. Nature 1, Lorna 0.

How time flies!

So, here I am, on a Sunday morning, and I've put on spring clothes for the first time this year, and I've brushed my hair, and in an hour or so, I'll be watching my daughter Emily leaving a song or two on Facebook.

It's not easy to remember how different things are when you're in your own apartment, able to have conversations with people who are farther away than a condo balcony and yet dealing with the fact that you can't just zoom out and buy a chocolate bar at the neighbourhood chocolate bar place. Ah, I shouldn't make that nice neighbourhood store sound like there's nothing but chocolate there, although I actually can't confirm it or deny it, as chocolate is all I've ever bought there.

Earlier, I had a strange discussion with myself about whether or not to add mascara to my strangely-inefficient-recently-smoothed-on-my-face make-up.  In the end, I went for it, telling myself that I'm a mascara person and have been so since I was 16 and some virus isn't going to make me give that fun up. Almost right away, other-me jumped up to remind me that really, I do that for myself, so I can't expect Dave to notice improved eyelashes. (Dave, you know that I sometimes write what I think is amusing rather than what is real)

Today, our daughter Emily is going to post a musical something she and her partner will perform on Facebook, and it's reminded me of how much she and I sang together one spring, sitting together in the car, getting her ready to prove she should be in the music class the next year.  As it turned out, she took dance, but that seemed like a possibly great decision, and it would have been if she hadn't left school to become a Starbucks person.  All to say that she still loves music and I love to hear her make it, and instead of Starbucks, she works for the Canadian Museum of History. "Too much babbling!!!" Emily is thinking, I imagine.  And it wouldn't be

the first time.....

Hey, she's not in my face!!.

Some reasons why I've not been in your face lately:

• First, and worst, I'm having trouble remembering words, real trouble, both when I'm talking and when I'm writing, although it's somewhat easier while writing because I can ask for help or use Google and anyone reading assumes it's just like me talking
• Also, I have difficulty accepting this. And because no one else is part of the trouble, I only have myself to be pissed off with
• I am a person, when faced with difficulty, to choose to either give something up or to take a deep breath and do my best---nothing in between
• I've been doing the second of those things, but not succeeding as much as I'd expected

Some reasons why I'm going to make an effort to be in your face, but of course, in the rather "Gosh, nothing's changed" way, which means I have to be subtle:

• First, and worst, I've already told you that I'm having trouble so I can't choose to pretend nothing is going on
• Also, I've stepped back from seeing people as much as I used to, and even though I've always loved to be with people, I don't have the confidence I once felt. I'd like to change that
• Dave has been so understanding and so thoughtful that I'm starting to believe I owe him so much more than I'll ever be able to make things even again

I don't have a "program" to follow, at least not yet, but I'm feeling that just writing this has been a step forward.  

Keep an eye out for me.

Why Purdy's is necessary

You may have noticed that I complain a lot about my relationships with anything techy.  For example, the lovely-looking Chromebook, which when we were considering to buy it was complimented by everyone with whom we discussed it, has actually taken over the process in which it will work.  And that has no connection to the way it lets Dave use it or any one else.  As I type, it decides I'm on the wrong page and leaves the one I'm on, without my request, and opens up Facebook or something I've never seen before in the 20 or so years I've been online.

I respond in several different ways, most of them falling in the "emotional" kind of thing which ranges from deep breath to nasty not-for-kids yelling while I walk away to another part of the condo.  (I just had to move words that I'd typed in a

reasonable way which the laptop decided to do this with it) and then it just laughed at me and moved those words 3 blank lines away from where I typed them. I moved them back.  So there!

I need to be able to be online, so I'll continue to work this out



But seriously...I did nothing to get from "out" to this place.  The Chromebook did it.

Actually, I intended to talk about the ways I am trying to just accept what happens between me and laptops and phones and Kindle.  I'm a retired person and if it takes me 3 times more as anyone else to write a post, I'll live with that, rather than act like a whiny kid.  However, after I got part way through the last sentence, Chromebook sent me to my Inbox.

All this to say that I have the box of Purdy Chocolates that my son sent for Christmas within arm's reach, and that I added a small fountain to my desk, and the sound is lovely and serene, which is what I'd like to attain for myself. Techy be damned.

Yikes!!, for which I usually blame myself

I have a thing about pockets.  When I'm shopping, it's the first thing I check out and it is often the decision point. 

Strangely, although I want pockets, I hardly use them and find myself carrying, in bags, things that would just beautifully fill in the pockets of my jacket.  And I've noticed the un-use of pockets happens more in my jeans and pants than in my shirts and coats. All this has, up to now, been not much of a problem of any kind.

Yesterday though, putting my favourite lipstick in my jeans pocket led to a very distressing outcome...just the very thing no one wants to see happen. Getting the wash started, I forgot I had anything in my hardly-ever used pockets and tossed our dark clothes in the washer.  

They all came out shining with more or less pinkish-red shapes, shapes that had not been there before the wash, and that was my first clue that something had gone awry. As I yanked everything out of the washer, the top part of the lipstick case landed on the floor. (the rest is probably going to show up next time I do a white wash)

Dave, and probably some of our neighbours, heard my rather loud and definitely unacceptable response to the pinkness.  It had nothing to do with possibly ruined clothes and all to do with my self-respect.  "How could I have done something so stupid?"  is how I started.......

 When Dave just brushed it all off saying something about how it could happen to anyone and how easily it could be dealt with, I actually started laughing, which is not at all like me in similar semi-disastrous events.  

Most of the clothes released the stains when I used a super-cleaner so it's no problem for them. The lipstick had been my favourite one and now I can't remember its name, so I don't come out of this totally OK but I did get a lesson in what's forgivable  and what might just happen to people who are in the last half of 70.

Fixes everything!!

I Didn't Wake Up This Grumpy

This morning I have been reading a book I know I would have loved ten years ago, "Bruno, Chief of Police" by Martin Walker.  Bruno is a charming man, but dammit, I can't keep both the people and the mystery in my brain at the same time.

I would like to see an Old Folk section at Chapters that would provide us with books of no more than 4 important characters, no pets, (especially those with names like Gigi and Bobby so you keep thinking mistakenly that they are more people in the story), and no more than 3 possible killers of the important characters.  Also it would be a  lovely addition to have a built-in movable ribbon that   tells you where you left off the story.

And while I'm at it, Chapters, please put more chocolate bars at the pay desk.  It only makes sense that I need to focus on books where the books are and chocolate where it brings additional joy to my visit to Chapters.  Thank you.

Dreams of Germany - Träume von Deutschland

Years and years ago, I spent 4 years in Germany.For the first 18 months, we lived in a small village where we had been able to rent a one-bedroom apartment, which seemed like heaven, mostly because it was next door to the local bakery, so we could start the day
with warm croissants. That was just one of the unusual things about our new life: my refrigerator was about 2 feet high, so we had to go to the market nearly every day and buy small amounts of things that we were going to eat that day. 

 Chris and I would take a basket, buy a small bottle of milk and whatever meat we were going to have that day and everyone we passed on the street said Gutentag and would chuck Chris under the chin.

 
All of these memories came back this week because I bought a new duvet cover. I had never even heard of a duvet before I moved to Allagen in Germany and was thrilled to have one,
which I would shake out and tuck under the mattress until one day my landlady came by and showed me the correct way to shake it out the window and then fold it down to the end of the bed and use my hand to make a V in the middle. I felt very European doing that.

So I'm back to feeling European again....Gute Nacht!

So I looked at us in a new way

I often use Blogger as a place to babble, other times to find out, by writing about it, how I feel about something.  This time I know how I feel.

I feel pissed off and I'm desperately beating myself up for it.

When Dave said he was going to get his hip bones replaced, I remember I thought what a good idea that was.  I was thinking of him, and how the pain in his hips was making his usual activities either hurtful or impossible. I was right. 

The surgery is exactly what he needed in order to keep himself active, and to do when he's recovered from surgery, the things he loves, like biking all over the place since we live in such a beautiful part of Ontario, or strolling around our pleasant neighbourhood.  We knew how long it would take him to recover his ability to walk.  I had no problem with that.  I don't know why, but I just accepted how it would be good for him and off we went.

He had his operation,which thankfully went well, and after a few days bedridden in hospital----a very good hospital (the Montfort Hospital which I would recommend to anyone) we came home with the help of my brother Sean who stayed with us for a few days to help Dave move about when he needed that help. He was very thoughtful and useful and after we felt we knew what was going on, he went back home.

 Dave has been getting around the house using a walker with a couple of wheels.  It is not fast or easy for him. Because of the change that comes with his being unable to  walk easily, I've been made aware of the difference in our responsibilities in running the house, and I've had to take on many of them.  The others just wait for him to be mobile again.

I am able....I am strong.....I normally do a lot around the house. I just didn't realize how much of what gets done for us both is done by him, and that all those things still need getting done. I also didn't realize how much of the day, up to now, I spend drinking coffee, eating snacks or sipping wine, which I do sitting down, or reading books, again done sitting down, being alone but accessible.

 My new understanding had made me feel happy that I never chose nursing as my lifework.

I hope I am sounding selfish and shamed, because I certainly am both of those things, at the same time that I am so grateful for the surgery, and so looking forward to his being able to ride his bike or to drive the car out to places where he can use his skis or snowshoes.

It has been a real lesson, and one I'm dismayed to have been so late in learning.

In which I feel worried about stuff done in the kitchen

I never took great joy in cooking or baking but I did have a few things that other people seemed to like, which made me sort-of-joyful. A friend had given me a great recipe for oatmeal bread, and I'd been lucky in making rice puddings and the best, the really best! bread-pudding.  It worked so well that anyone who ate it always asked for the recipe.

Here it is:
one-half cup raisins,6 to 8 slices of day-old bread, 3 tablespoons of butter, 2 cups of milk, half a cup of sugar, i teaspoon of vanilla extract and 2 eggs.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Put raisins in a cup of hot water to soak for 5 minutes; grease a baking dish; tear up bread into the dish; drain and add raisins,; melt butter and pour over bread; heat milk and sugar until steaming, add vanilla; beat eggs lightly, add hot milk gradually to the eggs. pour over the bread.  Cook 25 minutes . (you may want to substitute chopped dried apricots or dried cranberries) Enjoy!

So, why did I post a recipe today?  Because Dave, who usually does the complicated cooking, has had his hips replaced and needs to look after himself, which includes not standing up in the kitchen for the half-hour or so it takes to mix the recipe. That means that I'm going to give it a try although I'm sure I haven't made this for years. When I saw this recipe, sent by me to Dave 1990 while he was in BC, I thought he might be happy to have this with our dinner tonight, and also, I could put off this scary baking for another half-hour while I write a blog.

Now there is a danger that 2 people who love each other will have to gently support the other if this doesn't work. So I thought if Dave knew I'd included others he might just be ecstatic over this Bread-pudding .

A "yay!" would help.✌

Not really politics....

We've just taken an October drive in the country when we would normally love looking at orange, red and yellow leaves but it disappointed us as everything is still looking very green.

In my mind, autumn is a beautiful few weeks that helps us to relearn that we live in Canada, a four- season country. In reality, for a few years, our weather has been something quite different, and I'm thinking that we're stuck with this new higgly-piggly surprise-us set of faux-seasons.

Now I have a new set of amazingly warm winter boots, a coat that is labeled as able to keep me warm even at 30 degrees below zero, two mittens that are about the size of those belonging to heavyweight wrestlers, and a laundry basket full of scarves.  That'll keep me warm.  I also have a fall coat, a midweight scarf or two and gloves that are just meant to look good. I expect to be able to use both of them, for days at a time, in some kind of Russian manipulation of our climate.

Of course the Russian thing is probably because Dave and I have been watching "Homeland", a Netflix thing with Claire Danes, which seems to have finished in an unacceptable way.

Imagine, weather and politics in one blog.

In which I take a good step

Yesterday I stopped reading a book I'd already put 3 or 4 days into.

I stopped reading this highly-reviewed book because I couldn't stand it.

I am pleased with myself at the same time that I worry that I've made a mistake.  Of course, even though I passed the book on to someone else, I feel like I'm letting down book-reading.

I've done this a few times but not with a book that everyone else was reading with great satisfaction. Every time over the last few weeks, when I get on the O-train, I've seen at least one person entirely taken up in it, and once I even caught an oral review. 

Don't tell me I can't make decisions

Why I stomped my feet today

•  We bought me a new Chromebook because my old laptop was letting me down, but in spite of the many things I love about the new machine, like the flat keyboard, the lightness of the computer and the ability to continue using the French version of the keyboard (because I worked for more than  20 years for governments that expected me to be able to write in either English or French) ...in spite of these good things I can't write more than a line at a time without finding that the Chromebook has, on its own, chosen a different place for me to continue the sentence I'm working on.  Sometimes it's not even the same page. When I learned how to use a computer keyboard, it was a rule that you didn't look at the keyboard but watched the screen, so it's even worse to see that I'm doing the right thing and still not getting the product I want. 
• I have very thick hair and it grows quickly, so I have sometimes chosen a short haircut that works really well but only lasts a couple of weeks. As a result, I've learned pretty well how to cut my own hair, even to use the scissors that cleverly thin your hair if that's what you're looking for.  A few evenings ago, I cut the sides, got out the hand-mirror so I could cut the back, and when I felt like I'd done the length well, I got ready to finish the look I wanted by thinning it in places that needed it. Those scissors were gone....no one but me and Dave in the house and those scissors were gone.  When I got up in the morning, there they were, just where they were supposed to be.  And that wasn't the first time that I was sure I knew where something was, then it wasn't there and then it was.  One of my kids told me, sweetly, that I had to expect that kind of thing to be happening to me, as my memory was getting less to be counted on because of my age. I guess I'd forgotten that.
• I go for a walk almost every day---not long walks but pleasant ones because we are so lucky to be in a place that gives me access to several different kinds of scenes: green grass, paths that follow the river, or lead to beautiful churches, others that take me over to Québec and of course I live near to both the Byward Market and the roads that are home to lovely coffee shops and bars, for which I always have a book. Today when I went out for my walk, I intended to walk over to the river where there is a beautiful waterfall only to find that the road that goes from here to Gatineau was only allowing cars and bicycles. I was so annoyed, partly because just yesterday there had been thousands of persons on that road, for a marathon, and partly because I'd left my wallet at home and couldn't choose to have a glass of wine at the museum that was right in front me. I did however take a boring route home, saw one goose, tripped over my own feet and scratched my knee. Tomorrow I'm going to stay home.

When things don't work the way you planned

I don't carry around big heavy things anywhere; I only do half or less of the cooking; I take pretty good care of the house, David and my self, and rejoice in the strength I have for my age. So I was really pissed when I was not well yesterday, and it carried over to today.

Emma

Today is the Ottawa Pride Parade, which I have walked in every year since 2007, and many of those years with one of my daughters, and as years went on, with my great or grand-daughters, most lately with Emma, one of my grand-daughters. Today I wasn't well enough to go.

Except for the 40 some years I daily took anti-depressant medication, I have always been a big laughing and a big crying person and today, having to miss walking in the Ottawa Pride Parade, I've been surprising myself with the grief I feel at being home, not dressed  as I usually would be during Ottawa Pride, in something covered in gender-diversity buttons and ribbons, but in some ordinary pants and shirt without a single rainbow in the room, other than the tattooed one on my right wrist, and crying whenever I see Facebook posts of today's Capital Pride Parade.

I tried to keep my spirits up by watching a movie I'd always remembered as a joyful one, which shows how wrong we can be about our attempts to beat sadness when we're not working from a solid happy place.  La La Land, the movie, had always made me think about how many ways there are to manage your life to be happy but today it reminded me of how hard it is sometimes to let go of the choices that, in later sight, could have been made better.

This is not a place where I want to be today.

Dave, wine and chocolate, here I come.

Lesson Learned, Maybe

I'm having a day!

A weird day.

The first weird thing happened when I'd finished my breakfast of Kellogg Nourish which I'd chosen instead of brioche buns (I know!!)  when I realized that one of the two coffee cups that I use was not in the cupboard, on the counter or in the dishwasher. I started a search, then a serious look-at-every-surface, which in a condo doesn't take too long. The cup was nowhere. I decided that a touch-everything was in order and walked over to the window so as to start from the north end and move through the whole place.  On the way, I caught my foot in the little rug near the door, fell against the shelving and found the glass cup right after the cold coffee had landed on my knees. Why would I have left a cup of cold coffee there? Why had I not thought when I was searching that the shelves by the window had a "surface"?

I should have seen danger and just made a fresh coffee and read a book.  That's usually what I do every day after breakfast.

Instead, I decided to wash my hair. The same hair that I had washed last night because I'd been out in the rain (again, I know!)  We have lots of various shampoos because Dave is Dave and our grandchildren don't want to use shampoo that's especially for senior women, so when I was looking, I came across a tube of  Scintallant Orchid, a temporary colour shimmer spray. Did I have fun! And did I learn that "temporary" certainly does not mean you can wash it out right after you see that Scintillant Orchid makes you look about 10 years older. So, since I was still in the bathroom, I cut the hair at the back of my neck, tried a new foundation, slid a blue eyeliner over my lashes (I should have known better) and cut my toenails. Ouch!!

Clean but somewhat lacking in judgment, I sat at the computer, only to find that if I try to post anything on Facebook, it is posted to my daughter Emily's account. She always forgives me, but I thought I'd just use what little judgment I had left to blog instead.

I can't wait for dinner and an evening which probably includes trying to remember how to get Netflix.