Hillary was right

As I post this, I'm watching Bill Clinton on The Daily Show and, as always, the Big Dog has me enthralled.  I'm paying attention to his hands and they are very expressive. I'm reminded of what The Missus wrote in her memoir, Living History:

One of the first thing I noticed about Bill Clinton was the shape of this hands. The joints are thin and elegant, the fingers long and refined, just like a pianist's or a surgeon's. When we met at law school, I liked to watch him turn the pages. Now his hands bear the marks of years; he shook hands with thousands of people, played golf and made kilometers of signatures.

Like working in a garden

I went into the office today for the first time since my mom died. Everyone knows I like flowers on my desk, and I was shocked and surprised to find two (TWO!) floral arrangements. One from "the team" and the other from, of all people, my least-favorite coworker, The Chocolate-Covered Spider! I was really touched. It occurred to me that we have only clashed twice this year. Maybe her thoughtful gesture is a wake up call for me, very Yom Kippur.

My golden pothos really thrived in my 1.5 week absence, too. My mother loved her backyard, so I like to think that I'm working in a garden.

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sad observation

Cancer Lady is smoking again!

I don't know her, actually. She's just often on my el in the morning. One of those commuters who stopped to light up as soon as she got off the train, even though the ride was less than 30 minutes. I noticed her absence for a few weeks or months, then she reappeared wearing scarves. She no longer smoked. When she abandoned the scarves, I noticed her once black hair was very, very short and tinged with gray. Her totebag bears a pink ribbon design.

Today she stopped again to light up. I wanted to slap her upside the head and yell, "What are you doing?" But I don't know her. I know nothing about her.

Still, it made me sad.

"We've missed you"

So began the email I received this morning from my health club. Well, I miss them, too.

Over the summer I suffered so through the heat that those months had a sense of unreality to them. I intended to start again anew after Labor Day, but then my mom got sick and died. So here it is, September 24, and yet it feels like August 54th.

I want to go back. I want to work out at least three times this week. You know, I swam laps  when I was staying in a Best Western in Madison, visiting my mom in the hospital. I remember how good that physical exertion felt. I think I'll sleep better and feel more alert if I can get back into working out.