I have been just meandering around for the past couple of days, confused by a message on my personal GPS map of places in my life. I found myself feeling not at the right spot at times in the day and hearing a faint GPS directional voice saying, “You can’t get there from here anymore.”

For a couple of years, especially when the roads weren’t threatened with ice or snow, I would spend late afternoons and evenings two to three times a week sitting between Clara and Kathryn in Room 420. I was fortunate: Kathryn was my friend and Clara came to accept me as one. We were one almost old lady book-ended by two official ones. (Over 95, dontcha know) One very hot summer, we sat watching for rain, remarking with hope on each cloud that hinted of coming our way, studying any breeze that began moving a plant on the window sill. We played Solitaire at the dining table while waiting for the trays to come. We kept company.

And now, there is no longer a reason for me to keep heading over to Room 420. But it is almost as if my car is asking, “Time to head out? Huh? Huh?” Well, no, but time to look at my map.

A brave and gracious lady.

Well, time to get on with things. Yesterday was a lie around blah day and the rain was a good excuse to sit inside and nurse an earache. Yesterday was the day after my friend at the nursing home passed away and I felt the shift.

I got to the nursing home on Sunday about 4:50 in the afternoon and she died around 6:20. I stayed until the man from the funeral home came for her and then I left the room in which Clara, Kathryn and I had spent a lot of time keeping company for the last time. I think I forgot to turn off the light.

Today, after cool weather well into the spring, it is supposed to get quite warm and by Saturday be 87 degrees in Fairborn. But I will handle Fairborn later; today is Kendallville and it rained yesterday and last night and the humidity is high. Pollen is also way up there, but I’ve been pretty lucky about allergies. I’m a little more aware of it now that I’m older, but no tearing eyes and running nose.

I have done a preliminary stomp of the trash and, knock on wood, we are in good shape for more trash to go in. This afternoon, we may get some sun and maybe the grass, which is tall, will dry out and I can mow. I may have jinxed myself. I put on a pair of shorts I found because jeans and humidity just don’t cut it. The shorts aren’t mine and I’m putting some faith in my belt.

However, I have been putting off going to Wal-Mart and it is becoming urgent – at least as far as paper towels and cleaning supplies are concerned. And grass seed. And dandelion stuff. But, do I want to go in these shorts with this dirty hair and a peanut butter smudge on the shirt I’d put on for stomping and mowing?

Probably not. And I certainly don’t want to go to the nursing home like this, so I am doing a drying-out-the-land Indian dance and hoping to mow, then shower and Wal-Mart myself and then head to the nursing home. (Getting dressed in decent clothes would also be in that line-up.)

The fellow at the nursing home has this extremely fast riding mower that cuts a wide swath. Here at Kendallville, I use this electric thing which is as slow as I walk and narrow to get around things. I’d trade jobs, I think.

I suppose I should go deal with the dishes in the kitchen sink, but maybe there is an Indian dance for them as well.

Not all trees are in full leaf, but we have enough that you can no longer peer straight through a woods. I don’t wonder that Robert Frost didn’t write a poem about stopping by a woods on a summer’s night. It would have been been akin to stopping by a wall.

But, anyway, we also have rain today, and I think it is predicted for some days in the future. I guess we will deal with it. One way or another. Yesterday I broke out my well-known crushable olive-green hatwear. It does get wet itself . . . but it dries fast. Something is off in that logic, but the heck with it. Actually, it is great in the sun, with the mesh crown, and it sops up sweat quite well.

I was really tired last night and kept my head under the blankets long after daylight.

I am declaring full war on dandelions this year. They have annoyed me, popping there heads just above the mowed plane of the grass. I just want to go out there and yell at them.

Uh, could you hear me?

I spent last night at the nursing home, came home and then started a cleaning period. I sat down and looked at the Kindle Daily Deals and, of course, saw this: Cold Noses at the Pearly Gates.*

I think I’ll just imagine I’m walking along the beach in San Diego.

* Okay, what I really saw was my Amazon page with buy with quick click and all that. I wonder if Amazon would recognize an unauthorized computer? Don’t know, so pulled this up from Barnes & Noble.

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.