Note from Rose: Dear reader, please be tolerant of  AmeliaJake when you read this post; we here think she has a bit of ‘road age’ . . . Ha, ha, ha. Oh, we need to take our own advice.

Yes, long trip and heat and more heat and taking sugar levels and when Der Bingle handed me a business card from the wedding photographer, I looked at it – www.literitephotography.com  and thought, “Oh, a little  coded fun in the name.”  The  ‘literite’ being a reference to literate, implying knowledge about the process,  and the rite part meaning it was ‘right’ . . . even though it was misspelled.

Then I looked it up and saw the website: LiteRite Photography.  Lite Rite . . . literite. Oh, heavens, whatever happened to my brain. Maybe it was too much bright light coming into my brain through my eyes. Or maybe it was too much focusing on my I’s –  you know, the me, myself and I ones.

Maybe I will be better tomorrow – as for me and myself, who knows?

Yes, it is hot – 101 –  according to weather.com when I looked earlier today; I don’t know what it is right now because I am in the AC while others are not . . . It just worked out that way. UPDATE: I just looked and it is 90 but feels like 100.

BUT, ACTUALLY, I HAVE NOT REALLY DISLIKED THE HEAT.

It has reminded me of actually living; we have had cold cuts and fruits and veggies for lunch – a tablecloth with a watermelon print and lots of iced tea. Some of us have made trips to the place (Dirty John’s) where they have more beer labels than you can count . . . and have come back with purchases. We have watched movies on a  BIG SCREEN TV (by my standards) and, wait for it, old Marx Brothers shows.

Uh, and, oh, yeah, we did go to a barbeque place that had great food . . . and air-conditioning.

I have a new member for our colony back at the PBC&R – a stuffed shark from Jody’s room, one of her favorite friends. Picture to come.

When we first got to LZP’s, I announced I was making myself at home; a couple of days later, he realized I meant it, but he’s been a good sport. I napped on the sofa while three of the Der Bingle brothers told stories and woke up to hear one of them say, “Well, something didn’t work and I jumped out of the bed and yelled, ‘I want morphine.'” Then they all laughed and I nodded off again.

Stories of Dad this and Dad that and Uncle Joe, and Grandpa Vance’s dry humor, and Grandma Vance’s feisty persona.

I’ve had a real good time

Today is Quentin’s birthday.He  is in Houston and we are in  Iowa and the  heat index is supposed to be 110  -HERE. Hope  we’re taking some of the

BIG  HOT

from him.

We got here and we are- and, how do you say? HOT. I’ll be taking pictures. That’s all I am ccol enough to contemplate.

We are setting out for Iowa this morning with cooler and drinks and all our assorted charger cords; it seems as if technology accouterments have taken the place of diaper bags, toys to keep a kid interested (yeah, right), play pens, juice boxes and all that paraphernalia. Sigh. I don’t want to even think about the stuff I’ll have to back in the next stage of my life. Defibrillator, soft foods, hearing aids . . . ah, it depends. (Yes, groan, I am.)

Der Bingle’s nephew is getting married on Saturday. And we are staying in a hotel with an indoor pool, so I will be spending some time slinking into the pool area covered with a towel and then mostly submerging myself. Not the wedding and seeing folks isn’t important. Good thing I have decided to let my hair grow out – the chlorine effect, dontcha know? Oh, am I back talking about the pool and me again? Sorry, it’s such a habit.

Taking cameras (and chargers) and since Der Bingle is doing most of the driving, I’ll be snapping shots out the window. Damn! Wish we had a sunroof. Better not to visualize it.

It is 89 outside and feels like 90 something. Yes, the humidity is high. I went out to the garage and it felt as if I were in a sauna. I suppose I should go out, sit in the shade, read and drink iced tea.

I had forgotten how awful still, humid air can be and I feel really bad about Der Bingle’s days in the apartment with (count them – okay, I will) 1,2 windows and a sliding glass door out to the balcony, which he has taken to calling the porch.

Well, shucks, I wrote the best sentences I have ever written and when I pressed Save Draft, they disappeared. (cough, cough)

He is in Fairborn, Ohio at the Ohio Redoubt of The West Facing Cave and he will probably have no power for the next couple of days. The storm that went through snapped about 125 steel and wooden poles along Kauffman Road  . . .

The first night with no power he listened to people coming home to their apartments during the night. Everything was pitch dark and at one point he heard a male voice say, “Just follow behind me.” Then a female voice replied, “What? You just ran into a wall, idiot.”

The wind blew very hard; it looked as if the bushes outside the porch windows were going to take off. But they didn’t – at least here. After things had died down my brother-in-law called me to see if I were all right because 91 MPH WINDS HAD GONE THROUGH FORT WAYNE! Things did blow away down there, and unfortunately, some did not blow away – they just blew over onto houses and cars. Power was out on major thoroughfares and one lady was so hampered by the violent rain that she drove into a lake.

Der Bingle who lives really close to Wright-Patterson AFB where they were having an “open the base to civilian neighbors for a big party” event  lost his power around 4 pm.  The gates to the base were opened just at that time for the first of expected 30,000 visitors; at 4:30 the strong wind and rain started.

I don’t know what happened there but Der Bingle was still without power the last time I talked with him last night. He had, however, gone to Meijer’s, which was operating on an emergency generator, and got an oil lamp. He has a phone charger for the car, but he does not have a Kindle car charger. I feel his pain.

It looked a bit iffy when I got up early this morning, but the overcast is lightening now and I think I can see shadows here and there. I think we’re going to have hot weather continue; yes, I just checked and the high is going to be 92. The days that follow are showing an upward trend.

I imagine we did not get enough rain to do the farmers much good, but it will probably give the weeds a real boost and I will find myself mowing again.

Time to go make myself some iced tea . . .

I’m not going to link to the post below, but I’m not going to take it down. I mean, really, it wouldn’t be right for me go, “Uh, nevermind,” Anyway, whenever I need a slap in the face, I can just read it and cringe.

So, on with the day . . . and those that follow.

I cried in the doctor’s office – not sobs, but bouts of tears. All about the possibility of consequences from high sugar. All because of a label. I’d walked around this before – this not being fit and letting people down – and it seemed I’d dodged the bullet. But the thoughts about failing to do the wise and smart and responsible thing about my weight had triggered memories of other not so responsibly-acting times, other letdowns. I kind of pushed those other thoughts back into a locked place. Then, today, when he said he thought the bullet had hit after all, that news caused my feelings about all the past times to burst that locked door wide open.

Ironically, this bullet I can deal with. It’s the behavior choices of before that popped out and are standing their gound that have me feeling so guilty, which translates, I think, into so, so sorry  for myself. The “Woe is me; why couldn’t I have been a better person?” annoying whining syndrome.

Now, I don’t want sympathy at all; it’s just right now I don’t want to have people actually, say, “Well, yes, you’ve got that right, AmeliaJake. Threw away your potential with laziness and an abrasive personality and just made your parents so sad.”

Der Bingle will make me face up to it and not use any platitudes. I think I need a couple of days, though, and that’s why I’m probably not going to the Ohio Redoubt this weekend; I’ll wait until Wednesday and drive out with him to Iowa for his nephew’s wedding. I should be ready then for the reminders that the hotel has a pool and exercise room; I can be braced for any objective and truthful remarks about my traits toward easy anger and grudge-holding and downright nastiness and trouble-making; I’ll be able to tolerate ‘water under the bridge’ and ‘no use crying over spilled milk’  remarks.

BUT RIGHT NOW I WANT TO WALLOW IN A MOST UNATTRACTIVE MUD HOLE OF SELF-PITY AND EMBARRASSMENT.

Oh, and the bit about slapping someone and them saying, “Thanks, I needed that” . . . well, wait a bit and maybe I’ll snap out of it.

God, these self-realization moments suck.