I was on top of the trash bin, stomping trash – as if I would be up there stomping doughnuts, when my cell phone rang. I worked it out of my pocket and fumbled with the controls and panicked and shouted “Hello?” Well, I apologized to the nurse at North Ridge for startling here when I got there, but the gist of the call was that my friend was not doing well and they could not get in touch with family.

Thirty minutes later at the most I was at the nursing home and I stayed until about 10 am today. It was a step on the path, but not the end. The lady who heads the kitchen, Marla, made up a tray for those gathered and it included hot out of the oven home-made chocolate cookies. Oh, my goodness – they were good. My labs from my doctor’s visit were okay and so I chomped down once and for two agains.

I am always amazed at the caring and response of the people who work at North Ridge and the care and kindness provided by Heartland Hospice.

I came home and mowed the lawn and took a nap. That’s right, after a night in a chair and sweating while mowing, I slept in my clothes. I need to shower. It will be a “Grandma Shower” – get in, toss on shampoo and soap and rinse and get out. I so like being clean and am so annoyed by the chore of the cleaning. Maybe that is because when I was little, I had to stay in the tub until I could call out in all truth to my parents: “I’m wrinkling.”

Okay, I got Der Bingle back to the doctor. He came away with a Z pack and a stronger cough medicine that allowed him to get some sleep. The doctor was on the short side, thick white air and a slow, deliberate manner, with a soft voice – words considered and then deliberately uttered. I said later, “I wanted to go over and shake him and get him to get on with it.” Der Bingle replied that the doctor put him in mind of my dad. Actually, I was not surprised; I had had that same impression. I think when I had just learned to read, but Daddy was still reading me the funnies, I got impatient with an explanation of some humor I understood and told him to get on with it. That was probably when I was launched into my own funnies reading.

The doctor visit was on Monday and I headed back to Indiana at noon on Tuesday. Because I was heading to the nursing home instead of my house, I set the GPS, thinking perhaps it would direct me on a different route around Fort Wayne. Well, it would have, but apparently, there was construction and time-wise it put me on the accustomed path.

However, there must be warm weather GPS because I was directed onto little county roads – some without a line down the center – in order to skirt Van Wert and its stop lights. I had wondered about some of these roads before, but with weather bad and days short, I stuck with the usual way. It was interesting and explains why last week in Fountain County I was directed to another narrow road, only this one had potholes.

I’m afraid the GPS had a mental breakdown when I got near the nursing home – a bridge was being repaired and instead of giving me an alternate route, the GPS directed me on a “U-turn” – a mile square round the block sort of thing to the original “road closed to thru traffic” sign. Sigh.

That part of the county has swampy areas and small lakes and ponds and the roads meander, so I had been leery to disobey, but this time I figured repeated wrong turns would give the GPS the hint and it would adapt. Actually, it went a little crazy and by the time I got to the nursing home, I heard it directing me onto streets that did not exist in the vast fields surrounding the nursing home. I actually felt kind of bad for the patient little voice.

I stayed at the nursing home long enough for it to get dark because I figured when I drove into my drive, I would see tall grass and I didn’t want that to be when there was still enough day for me to haul out the mower. I have to get up to Lagrange County this week and it is already Wednesday – trash stomping day. I need to get new vacuum bags . . . and get pruned branches and left over leaves onto a tarp and pulled out to the street.

It is sunny so I have no excuse not to get out and get started . . . except maybe I need to wait for the heavy dew to dry off. Yeah, that sounds reasonable.

I’ve been listening to John Denver sing Take me home country roads – too bad the song wasn’t Take me to a country road all the way to California.

There was a lot of coughing last night and now I am being very quiet while the cough-er sleeps. Do you know how hard it is to be quiet in a small apartment for an AmeliaJake? Yes, yes, I know I read a lot, but when I know I should be quiet, noisy things call to me. Well, I wouldn’t say very noisy things like vacuum cleaners or dishes clanking; actually, I think it comes mainly down to talking. Can you guess that my parents used to pay me money to be quiet for five minutes on car trips? Yes, I suppose it may have occurred to you.

I can’t really go around dusting because I would have to pick up lots of things and put them back down . . . and I am clumsy. Yesterday, I managed to drop shredded cheese into a stove burner.

The really difficult problem today is getting up enough courage to undertake the “Don’t you really think you need to go back to the doctor?” conversation.

Well, yes, it is sunny this morning; the forecast refers to the intrusion of clouds this afternoon, but right now I am going to just soak in the uplifting sunlight and let the afternoon take care of itself.

The sickie is still sick and so I have elected to be very quiet and not rattle around cleaning up the apartment – I do so love my ability to rationalize. I did light a candle to freshen the air; it was a tough job, but I got it done.

I haven’t checked the news yet, so I am taking it for granted that everything is about the same. I’ll go look now, because I don’t want to miss anything exciting – such as mutant snakes heading toward Ohio.

I went to the doctor Friday morning for just some routine things and then drove on to Fairborn, where I found a sick Der Bingle in a coughing marathon. So, we have been watching films and BBC shows and Swedish Wallendar episodes with subtitles. Not just because of the language in the third category, but to follow the plot despite the coughing.

I was going to post the following a couple of days ago, but I got called away and so it here now. I found it among my mother’s things. The newspaper article was folded inside the book.

Oh, by the way, it’s raining today, which I guess works out since I am sitting here with my sickie.

Some things you just never think about, but, then again, where did they sit before electricity, the telegraph, and the telephone? I guess there were more trees, and then you have to remember the days of clothes lines.

I just can’t get started today; I did get up, but that’s about it. Washed a few dishes, tossed a load in the laundry and, uh, well, I can’t think of anything else. It is Trash Stomping Day, but the prestige of that task has worn off.

The sky was blue when I opened my eyes this morning and grey about 15 minutes later. It’s been overcast almost constantly with a wink of sun once or twice. And windy. We had a few snowflakes and the temp when I checked was officially 34 degrees. I had spent time yesterday gathering up winter clothing to go in a box, so I guess that’s my fault. Of course, the grass has started growing, never mind the snowflakes and cold air. I guess I’ll have to put anti-freeze in the lawn mower motors.

And on that thought, I’m going to put this computer down and pout.

HEY, LZP, THIS IS FOR YOU . . . and that little Peep eater Ronbo.

We got back this afternoon from attending The Rocky Horror Show, directed by my cousin at the junior college where she is a professor of speech. It was her idea to introduce stage productions into the college’s schedule. I have planned to go now and then, and something would come up. Boy, what I have been missing.

It was great. Really good. We had a marvelous time. Uh, are you getting my drift. I thought I didn’t care for shows on the stage – guess I’ll have to revise that opinion. Glenda Woodrow Boling – I am so proud of you. And you can bet your Uncle Bob would have been also – he might have skipped this production because of his generation, but I think he would have said, “I’ll bet that was the best production of a show using words ‘Ladies shouldn’t say’ that has been presented by any non-Broadway group.

We saw and dined with Sue and Marshall and sat with Glenda’s daughter, granddaughter and son-in-law. It was a right good time, to use an old-fashioned adjective often voiced by our English descended grandmother.

I came to this page the last few days, stared at the blank New Post and decided I just didn’t have anything to write. So I went off surfing on the Internet. I came here today and it is pretty much the same, but I figured it was getting ridiculous and I should say something in behalf of the interesting people who do frequent the cafe.

So, oh dear, they have left me out of the loop – dull, they call me – and I am back at square one with nothing clever to write. Oh, heck, let’s just throw that too the wind and blather on.

I’m heading down to Danville Area Community College where my cousin is putting on a play. She does this at least twice a year and manages to bring diverse community college students together to produce something that has grown in reputation throughout the years. It is a tremendous amount of work for her, but it is her . . . and I am so proud to be her cousin.

I think I am taking a passenger, unless she chickens out. I suppose I should prepare her for her first revelation: Glenda has a very neat house; this is a concept that is unfamiliar to her because her grandma is a slob.

Her view out the passenger side windshield will be blurry because Shane’s nose prints are still on it. I cannot bear to wipe them off, which probably indicates that her grandmother is crazy and a slob.

We are going to take our time meandering down; there was a midnight production last night and God only knows when Glenda got home and in bed. Oh, the show is The Rocky Horror Show. Tonight the show is at 7 pm. I got to thinking about the time zone, but I think my cousins have already done the translation into Eastern Time for me.

Now it is time to do the getting out of bed time thing with the passenger. Sigh.

I have a dental appointment at noon for a cleaning. I am not a person who looks forward to going to the dentist, even though it is so much better than it was when I had four wisdom teeth, an extra molar and four regular teeth extracted because my gums weren’t large enough to accommodate all of my teeth. Yes, I know my actual mouth is big – go figure.

So, it’s a routine visit and I hope I am not jinxing myself into a reaction from the hygienist that is along these lines: Oh, I’d better get the dentist to take a look at this, followed by: Oh, AJ, it looks as if we have a problem here.

When I have to go to the dentist, I spend the entire morning whining and sulking. I was blessed with fairly durable teeth and parents who were very vigilant, but I take advantage of the results generated by those two things and sort of get real lazy about tooth care. Especially flossing. Probably, I should eat popcorn every day to make flossing necessary. I mean, you can sit there and try to make suction to get a hull off a tooth or out from between teeth, but, ultimately, you have to floss.

There is so much work to do here and at the Lagrange house and I just want to party and be festive. I am having trouble working out a compromise. Aliens, if you want to abduct me, this would be a good time for me.