Friday, November 1, 2013

It finally rained, a good hard pour but it didn't last nearly long enough. It's still drizzling a little or maybe it's just dripping off the leaves.
My palm trees look so scraggly and they are. In twenty years time they may be stately but I doubt I'll be here to see them. I hope that whoever is here appreciates them. Our friend Tom has given me at least a half a dozen palms and I have planted them all, stuck them in here and there but those two are the biggest. They block the walkway to the front porch but I keep insisting that they will grow and their stems will be thin and the fronds will be high and they will no longer block anything.
It's a theory.
I have so many theories.

It's been a strange day. I have not been exactly lonely but have not been in the most exuberant of moods, either. I mopped the kitchen and the bathroom which lies off of it and I made a completely ridiculous chicken pot-pie casserole, spending almost an hour caramelizing the onions as Madame Rebecca does, although I am sure I did not do as good a job as she does. The other ingredients are chicken, of course, and potatoes, carrots, celery, peas, and a sort of biscuit crust. This was all in lieu, of course, of driving to town and buying a Swanson's chicken pot pie and this one will be better for me as theirs probably has forty-eight thousand grams of fat calories in it rather than only forty-thousand grams of fat calories.

I girded my loins and called the pharmacy today which makes up my hormone troches (definition: a small tablet or lozenge, usually a circular one, made of medicinal substance worked into a paste with sugar and mucilage or the like,and dried)
and almost passed out when I noticed that the date for renewal had expired. This is how bad my medical neurosis is. I am taking such a small amount that what should last me for a month or two lasts for almost six months- thus the time problem. They promised they would call my nurse practitioner and get it renewed and I was so grateful but of course I'm worried to death that her office will call me and demand that I come in for bloodwork at the very least. I was supposed to go back a year ago for an exam and bloodwork and I'm so overdue for a pap and pelvic, for mammograms and colonoscopies, for all of those completely scary things.
I hate getting older. I hate it. I just want not to pee in my pants every time I pick up my grandson, to be able to sleep through the night waking only two or three or four times with hot flashes, and this tiny amount of hormones, taken before bedtime, seems to help with all of that.

Anyway, I fucking called. I did that.

I just talked to Owen on the phone. For some reason, he announced that he was putting me on "loud speaker" and then he proceeded to shout into the phone (is he drunk AGAIN?) that he had gotten two Almond Joy bars in his Halloween Haul and that we could share them. I haven't seen him or his brother for a little over twenty-four hours and I'm already sort of panting with withdrawal. I have been thinking a lot lately about how I've never really lived alone for more than a few months, how I've now been a participant, at the very least, in the raising of four sets of children, and how, although I've never really worked as a nurse even though I spent four goddam years in college training for that profession and still, to this day, have a current license, I am and always have been, a caretaker.
You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. 

The rain is falling again. Softly, gently. My chicken pot pie is done and is sitting in the oven, keeping warm. I think there's another damn rat or a mouse, at least, in my bedroom, which does not help me sleep peacefully. I know the fucking critter is not going to jump up on my bed and look- in the last hour I killed two roaches- one big one by stomping on it and one small brown one by smashing it with the flat of my fist and oh god, yes, I have become one of those women, but still, there is something so disconcerting about waking up at three a.m. and hearing another living being in your bedroom.

Yeah, well. Life in Lloyd. Too much nature. Blah, blah, blah. There's a tiny frog clinging to a bowl in the dish drainer in the kitchen and no Mr. Moon here to call to come and deal with it.

Well, still, there are few places I'd rather be and the drum from the church next door is throbbing and the singer is whaling.

I am alone but am not lonely.

How could I be with so much life going on all around me?

I'm doing the best I can. As are we all.


  1. Stop it. Seriously. I googled "low carb chicken pot pie" today. For heaven's sake. We are so in sync sometimes. Our moods, too. Anyway, they all seemed really hard to make. So I came home and ate a can of green beans like a rational person. That'll probably kill me too.

    I'm glad you called the doc. I know how hard that was. I am alone but not lonely tonight, too.

  2. There is a product called Fresh Cab. It's available from Amazon. Basically it's essence of Christmas Tree, which is a smell that mice do not like. Many RVers use it to keep the rodents out. You might try an order (4 packets to a box) and see if works on the little buggers.
    The potpie sounds really good.
    Sorry you're having hot flashes. It makes sleeping so hard.

  3. There are so many things about this post that make me love you to pieces. You are funny, you are humaner than human, you are an amazing writer, you are kind and loving, you feel out loud, I could just go on. I don't want to be sweet Jo anymore cause you will just say I am being sweet. I want you to take this in and know that whether you believe it or not, it is the truth and I am right. And now I need a new name. P.S. Those critters in your house are another story.

  4. Pick the frog up! They're really soft and kind of nice. Then wash your hands. We frequently find tree frogs in the grill. Frog removal is my job.

  5. Awww, poor frog! He's probably very confused, wondering where he is.

    Could that thing in your room be just another roach? You know how roaches sound REALLY BIG when they're skittering around in the darkness at night, maybe even rodent-like, but they're really not so big when you turn on the light? Just a thought. (Hopefully a comforting one.)

  6. Getting old certainly sucks. It does beat the alternative however just have to deal with it.
    Been doing the "blood work", and the poking and prodding. AND got the poop chute exam set up for next spring. Yay.
    Oh it's such *fun*.
    They know me just a little too well at the pharmacy. Not liking that.
    Hope you sorted out your little green visitor. He's "cute". As frogs go.

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  8. I wish that I could say that I am in a good mood today but am not. I need to get a mood pick up because of having this hugely busy day ahead including the fucking black tie wedding and multiple parties tonight. Alas, my mood seemed to reflect the grumpiness of my wife this morning. She is having an "ism" mood about something. And I guess I am just weary of it. Her depression sucks. I know what it is but still am tired of it some days. That's all.

  9. SJ- If a can of green beans is going to kill us, I give up. Too bad I couldn't share my chicken pot pie with you. It was pretty darn good. Well, it still is. I barely made a dent in it.

    Allison- I can see how something like that would work for an RV but I'd have to order a truck-load of it for this house. I'm serious. But I'll check it out.
    As to the frog- uh-huh. I like frogs but I don't want to touch them. I know this is not rational but it's the way it is.

    Sweet Jo- Okay. So what shall your new name be? "Mean Aunt Jo"? like "Mean Aunt Jessie?"
    Thank you. I won't say you're being sweet. I'll just say thank you.

    Steve Reed- Ha! That frog knew exactly where he was. I find frogs in the sink ALL THE TIME. It's like the Frog Resort for North Florida/South Georgia in that sink. An all-inclusive resort with bugs AND water.
    I wish that the critter in my room was a roach. However, I'm pretty sure it's not.

    Bob- You're braver than I am. And that frog was cute. I am not denying that.

    Nina John- Uh, hello blog spammer!

    Syd- As my brother, who lived with a severely depressed wife for years says, depression is contagious. And as someone who suffers from depression- I know that and it only makes it worse. I'm sorry you have to get all dressed up in a monkey suit. I bet you'll be handsome, though. Just get through it.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.