"Just me, checking on you."

I was delighted to get that voice mail message. For it was the same message Henry has been leaving me for decades. I called him back and we chatted for about 15 minutes, the first time I've heard his voice since his near-fatal accident almost a month ago.

He sounded tired and weak, but he was lucid. He's lost a few weeks and is confused about the date, but that's not unusual after being in a medically-induced coma. In terms of our relationship, he remembers us and our history I was so relieved! I was afraid that his head injury might have erased me.

He was in a feisty mood, telling me that he while he doesn't remember the accident -- again, not unusual -- he doesn't believe it could have happened the way "they" say it did. He insists he wasn't drinking that night, and doubts he had a brain injury at all, much less a life -threatening one.

"How come my face is unmarked? Why don't I have even a scratch on my head?"

I refused to argue with him, so I just changed the subject. I asked about the view from his hospital room and updated him on my bathroom remodel (which he remembered advising me on every step of the way before his accident).

He's in a great deal of pain because of his shattered ankle. It's encased in a big boot and it itches. Because of his brain injury, they have to be very careful about the pain medication he receives, so he's in a constant state of discomfort. Naturally he's surly.

Plus, he doesn't recall the accident that landed him in Miami and left him unable to walk. That has to be disconcerting.

But he's being very unreasonable with the hospital staff. Thank God he and Reg are legally married. That gives Reg authority when it comes to his treatment. Important because if it was up to Henry, he'd leave the hospital way before he should and he could do real, lasting damage to himself.

And I'm just going to relax a bit. Henry is going to be OK. It's going to take a long, long time. And it's going to be unpleasant -- just because he liked me on Monday doesn't mean he'll be as fond of me next time we talk. But he still knows me and he still loves me. We're still us.

I'm so grateful.

Dona Nobis Pacem

Every year, November 4 is the day we blog for peace. This year, November 6 is Election Day. In my blog blast post, I'm marrying the two.

Think peace when you vote. When you have a choice, support the candidate who seeks to build bridges, not walls. Cast your ballot for the candidate who will bring us closer to commonsense background checks and a ban on assault weapons.

Remember the words of Notre Dame's Rev. Theordore Hesburgh: "Voting is a sacred sacrament." Make your vote a vote for peace on Tuesday!

 Go here to find out more about Blog4Peace.

Sunday Stealing

Pop Tarts

1. What's the coldest temp you've experienced? I know we hit -27º back in the 1980s. I don't recall that specific day, but I do remember one January when I had to go to the laundromat, which was a walk of several blocks. When I got inside, my eyelashes were frozen.

All that said, I'd rather be below zero than 90º or more above.

2. What's for dinner tonight? Haven't decided. Suggestions?

3. Would you consider moving to Australia? Depends upon the circumstances, but I suppose so.

4. What was your favorite subject in high school? American history, by far.

5. How many hours a day is your tv on? That depends on how many hours a day I'm home. But if I'm here, it's usually on.

6. Have you ever received an award? Yes. The biggest award I received was a Clio.

There was an episode of Mad Men that recalled my experience. A commercial done by Sterling Cooper is nominated, and even though Peggy believes the original idea was hers and that her contribution should be recognized, she isn't invited to represent the agency at the ceremony.

This very thing happened to me. I not only wasn't sent to the ceremony, I didn't even get a statue. Why would I? I only wrote all the copy.

I did, however, get a copy of the award certificate with my name listed, and the company I worked for back then paid to have it framed. At the time, I was exuberant.
 
I was passed over not because my contribution wasn't important -- it was vital. I was too junior. And back then, I acted like a girl (instead of a woman) on top of it. While my work was taken seriously, I wasn't. 


7. Whats your mousepad look like? Don't use one.

8. How many browser tabs do you have open right now? Five


9. If you are a parent, have you or did you ever put Vicks VapoRub on your children under the age of 2? No kids

10. As an adult, do you like the scent of Vicks VapoRub? Yes

11. If you had to pick one insect to infest your house for 1 day and after that day they would just suddenly vanish, which insect infestation would you pick? I don't really get this question. But I've suffered through stink bugs, drain flies and bed bugs. If I had to choose one, I'll go with stink bugs. They don't bite, They're big enough and move slow enough to make tremendous play things for the cats.

12. What color is your underwear that you are wearing right at this moment? My signature white granny pants.

Home again

I got home this morning and have been putting my NEW bathroom together. There's a lot about the process I didn't like, but I'm too tired and too happy right now to post about it. Instead, let's just gaze at the blinding whiteness that is my bathroom.

Good news/bad news

Good news:

•  Reg called me today. He was upset, worried about money, stressing about all the responsibility of Henry's recovery. I was so glad he chose me to reach out. So happy I could make him laugh. He's been so tense and remote lately that I was afraid we wouldn't be friends anymore (apart from Henry). Clearly that isn't the case. I'm so relieved.

•  Henry is doing much better. He is lucid, speaking in both Spanish and English. He is now out of ICU and in a private room. He can do everything that's been asked of him so far: identifying shapes and memorization. He's still angry all the time. He wants out of the hospital, and wonders bitterly why those who claim to love him aren't helping him go home. But the nurses assure Reg that this is to be expected.

Bad news:

•  No disability insurance. It looks like Henry didn't check that box when he signed up for benefits.  It is frustrating that he could be receiving $450/week from his employer, but he didn't take the option. A few more dollars from each paycheck would be paying dividends right now, but there's no going back and changing it.


•  A surprising, but perhaps not so surprising, complication. Henry's blood alcohol was very high at the time of the accident. His response to treatment aligns with someone suffering from withdrawal. Henry is an alcoholic. It upset me to hear it said aloud, but it doesn't surprise me. One of the reasons I don't like his friend Phyllis -- who he'd been drinking with the night of the accident! -- is that I've never seen that woman without a drink or a joint in hand. And when I've visited him over the holidays, he drank wine literally all day. I would stop after two -- maybe three -- drinks, tops, and switch to Coke. But not Henry. When I busted him for it, he'd say, "It's my vacation," or "I can handle it." He cannot. Reg said sadly that he and Phyl had been enabling Henry. I responded we all had. Henry is such a sweet soul, you don't want to spend your every moment together nagging. And ultimately, the one responsible for Henry's drinking is Henry.

This is so big. Henry's accident has had an enormous impact. I'm still trying to process it all, weeks later.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: It Must Be Him (1967) 

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) This song is about a woman waiting impatiently for a phone call. Do you consider yourself patient? No. As my friend John tells me, "Patience is your demon."


2) Other women (most notably Shirley Bassey and Dottie West) have recorded this song. Harry James and Doc Severinson did instrumental versions. But there's no record of a male singing "Oh dear God! It must be her! Or I shall die!" Do you think that's because waiting for the phone to ring is more "a chick thing," and men simply don't do it? I think they don't admit it, much less sing about it at the top of their lungs.

3) This recording enjoyed a sudden surge of popularity after 20 years when it was included on the soundtrack of Moonstruck, the 1987 film that won Cher an Oscar. Have you seen Moonstruck? Several times. So romantic!


via GIPHY


4) This week's featured artist, Vikki Carr, was born in El Paso, TX. El Paso can proudly proclaim itself one of America's safest cities. What can your hometown be proud of? You mean, other than me?

5) She was a staple on Jerry Lewis' Labor Day Telethon, raising funds for the Muscular Dystrophy Association by performing this song. Is your TV on right now? If so, what are you watching? It's not on. I was listening to Vikki sing her heart out on YouTube.

6) In 1971, Vikki fulfilled a dream of hers by establishing the Vikki Carr Scholarship Foundation. Every year the foundation awards Hispanic American students money to use toward higher education. She says it's her way of returning "the support and encouragement she received from others" early in her career. If you could establish a charitable foundation, what cause would you like it to benefit? Free veterinary services. Companion animals mean so much to those who love them. It's heartbreaking when they truly want to give their dogs and cats quality care, but can't afford to.

7)  In 1967, when this song was popular, Dr. Christiaan Barnard performed the first heart transplant. Today, one of the most common surgeries performed in the United States is the coronary artery bypass surgery. Have you had any surgeries? In 2011, I had a hysterectomy.

8)  Also in 1967, the RMS Queen Mary was retired after 31 years of service. Have you ever traveled by cruise ship? Nope

9) Random question: Who is your oldest living relative? My aunt is between 72 and 74.

My suite life

Since Monday night, I've been living out of two rooms in a massive Victorian on the other side of town.

I'm glad I did this because my home is a wreck. My (only) bathroom is completely unusable: the toilet is parallel to the wall and the sink is in the living room. My new tub is in, but it's filled with work tools.

I go home every night to check on the cats -- oh, the mess they're making in the bedroom! -- and bring in the mail and feel the lump in my throat whenever I look at the bathroom.

I was told by Don (the boss) that it was a "3 to 5 day job." It looks like it's really a 5 1/2 day job. The overages are because of my building, I'm told. It's so hard to get supplies up through elevator. The parking area is way in the back. It eats up all this time. Yeah, right. Don was in my building twice -- first for the estimate, then to do some preliminary measurements. I haven't changed the location of the elevator or the parking lot since he's been here.

Meantime, I'm here. In this little suite of rooms. Watching Netflix and sleeping a lot. It's quiet and comfortable. The man who owns this massive house -- two addresses on two streets -- turned these rooms into a separate suite for his daughter to use when she was home from college. Well, she's graduated and moved away and he's renting it as an Airbnb.

I'm still sick with worry about Henry. I feel stressed about work (even though I took Thursday and Friday off). I am nervous about the expense and progress of my remodel. So I come in, slip into my pjs, binge watch about the Royal Family, and go to bed before 10:00.

Tonight is my last night here. It's been very nice, but I want to go home. I want to put my bathroom and bedroom back as they were. I want my old life back, just with a new bathroom. I want to relax again.

 

It's Kwizgiver's Birthday!

She's a rabid reader, a dedicated teacher and a good blogging buddy. If you don't read her blog, you should. Becoming acquainted with Ms. Kwiz will enrich your cyberlife.

My heart is suddenly lighter

I know what happened to Napoleon! And it's all good. Caleb got a promotion at work. He drives a forklift now during the day shift. And they are living indoors, day in/day out.

It's a long story, but I googled and one website led me to another and another and finally I tracked them down. I have a phone number and I can text them.

I want to ask if they still need clothes, and if Caleb still goes through paperback books. I can send that period mystery that I've been carrying in my briefcase.

I'll be posting a new peace globe soon

You can, too!

Founder Mimi Lenox describes the BlogBlast for Peace as event that encompasses, "70 million blogs. 70 million possibilities."

Mimi believes that it isn't enough for us to "unmake war, we have to remake peace." We bloggers are working toward this worthy goal by creating peace globes and posting them on our sites on November 4, 2018.

To learn more, and maybe participate yourself, click here.  And be sure to google Dona Nobis Pacem on November 4 so you can check out all the inspiring and imaginative globes ... from all over the globe.

As the Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose once sang ...

It's too late to turn back now! Day One of my bathroom remodel.

The contractor reports no evidence of living rodents. I find that comforting, I suppose, but I mourn for the mice who perished in my walls.

No. Not this Gal. Not in this country.

Yesterday, a shooter stormed a synagogue and killed at least 8 people. It was another horrifying event in a terrible week that began with assassination attempts against prominent politicians.

Our President actually suggested that we should have armed guards at places of worship.

I reject that. I refuse to worship my Lord in a house with an armed guard at the door.

Have we actually reached a point where that is considered acceptable, desirable? Better than banning assault weapons and bump stocks?

No.

A ribbon of emoticons

I got a quick text from Henry's partner, Reg. "Just opened my mail. Thanks." Followed by love emoticons.

It meant a great deal to me. Reg has been hard on me -- and everyone else -- during this ordeal. It hurt. I felt isolated, and my relationship with Henry felt minimized and demeaned. I felt like I had lost both Henry and Reg.

But I persisted in maintaining the relationship with Reg because I knew Henry would want me to. I sent notes via USPS to keep the lines of communication open without immediately engaging Reg. After all, my feelings do matter and I must protect myself throughout this sad chapter, which may prove to be a very long one.

A roller coaster week in the ICU

My friend Henry's condition continues to confuse and terrify. When he first got to the hospital, he was speaking and in English. He could move all his limbs and respond to direct commands. But, because he was so aggressive and angry, the neuro specialists agreed he should be sedated. It's important to keep him completely quiet, so his injuries remain contained and don't bleed. They are working hard to avoid operating on his brain.

They have been able to repair his broken ankle, which is good. Wonderful, in fact, if it wasn't for the traumatic brain injuries. For days though, he seemed to have regressed. No longer speaking at all when he's brought out of sedation, only thrashing and making loud, angry noises. Then he contracted a lung infection. Not an uncommon occurrence in the ICU, but troubling and complicating.

Finally, Saturday, there was a new glimmer of hope. His infection responded so well to treatment that his breathing tubes were removed. This made Henry much more comfortable, and consequently he's been more responsive. His partner, Reg, is back in Key West -- unfortunately, if Reg doesn't work he doesn't get paid -- spoke to him via phone. When Reg said, "I love you," Henry responded positively to his lover's voice, eyes lighting up, mumbling something that sounded much like, "You, too."

Happy birthday to me -- Part 1

And so it begins. Galfest 2018 kicked off Saturday! It's going to be a subdued affair because of Henry's accident. I contacted four of my friends -- Rose, John, Mindy and Barb -- and told them that, instead of a gift, I'd prefer they send money to Henry's GoFundMe page. And because each time we've spoken, since summer, Henry had bragged about the used books he'd snared for my birthday (one about JBKO, the other about the Beatles). It's hard not to feel melancholy.

But nothing is all bad or sad. Kathy texted me Friday night and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch Saturday afternoon. My first impulse was to say no, I have too much to do to prepare for the remodel -- it starts tomorrow! -- and besides, all I want to do these days is sleep. But I recognize my impulses are not healthy. I should see people. And so I told her I'd love to, and asked if she'd give me a lift to Goodwill so I could drop off stuff too unwieldy for the bus.

She had a surprise for me: a birthday giftbag containing a copy of The President Is Missing, by James Patterson and my guy Bill. It was a sweet and thoughtful gift -- and she was one of the first to contribute to Henry's GoFundMe. She's been great throughout this ordeal.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" Theme

 
This week's song was chosen because this is the last Saturday 9 before Halloween. Are you unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

 

1) The Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock, was born in England. Name another pop culture contribution England has made.

 
2) This week's song is recognized as the theme to Hitchcock's long-running TV show, but "Funeral March for a Marionnette" is a classic piece written for piano in the late 1870s by Charles Gounod. Do you often listen to classical music? No. I really don't care for it. At all.

3) Janet Leigh's shower scene in  Hitchcock's Psycho is considered one of the scariest sequences ever filmed. What's the most frightening movie you've ever seen? Yeah, I'll stick with Psycho. Because it's a horror movie, and since the subject matter is so lurid, people often disregard how nearly perfect it is. Shot for shot, it's a great piece of film making. I think the quality is why it's so enduringly scary.

4) Hitchcock admitted that he "never trusted birds," and he took that fear and turned it into the movie, The Birds. Is there a member of the animal kingdom that just gives you "the creeps?" Squirrels. I recently shared this story for Sunday Stealing, but here's the truncated version: When I was about 5, my dad told me this really vivid, scary story about how a little boy (just my age) was bit by the squirrel he was feeding (just like my dad had caught me doing). The squirrel was rabid and sunk his sharp teeth into the boy, and wouldn't let go. The police came and shot the squirrel, who wouldn't even open its jaws in death. The poor boy was raced to the hospital in an ambulance, with the bloody squirrel carcass hanging from his arm. Naturally none of that is true, but it's stayed with me ever since.

 
5) Halloween will soon be upon us. Will you carve a jack o'lantern this year?  Nope

 

6) What candy will trick or treaters get at your house? All they'll get is disappointment. I won't be home.

 

7)  When you went trick or treating, did you prefer fantasy costumes (like a storybook character) or scary ones (like a monster)? I don't remember many of my costumes, but since they were chosen by my mother, I know they had to be fantasy because she wasn't into monsters.

 

8)  Which candy was your favorite? Which one were you disappointed to find in your trick or treat bag? I love Mary Janes. I hate candy corn.

9) Which do you find scarier -- cemeteries or haunted houses? Haunted houses.

 

$55.83/month

That's how much my monthly condo assessments will go up each month in 2019. I know, because I'm on the board and helped arrive at the amount.

This will pay for:

•  A new intercom system. Amazingly, those of us on the fourth floor (and many other residents) have been without any doorbell for more than two years now. I've gotten used to it, but we know that it's just a matter of time before someone checks and sees that we're not in compliance with village ordinances (I live in a village that tends to have an ordinance for everything).

•  New ceiling tiles in the parking area. The previous board used the wrong type of tiles.Specifically tiles designed for indoor use were installed. The tiles get wet with condensation from the heating and water pipes above, they get heavy, they fall down on the windshields of the cars parked below. We've been trying to repair this on a tile-by-tile basis, but it's actually more expensive to do it that way. We should just bite the bullet and replace 'em all.

•  Roof repair. Being on the top floor, this one is near and dear to my heart. And the top of my head!

None of these things are merely cosmetic. They're all necessary, and the first two are way overdue.

But I'm not happy about this. $55.83 is an 18% increase. There are so many other things I'd rather do with that $670.

Sigh.

Ironically, we got an offer from a local real estate office. A developer wants to buy our building. All 24 of us would have to agree to it -- and it's hard to get all 24 of us to agree on anything -- but it would result in a windfall. Probably $50,000 more than any of us would get if we sold individually (way more for me, since I have crappy carpeting and my living room windows should be replaced).

I'm for it. At this stage, that infusion in cash would be so welcome.

But if the offer turns out to be legit, and if we all agree, the developer will tear this building down and replace it with a high rise. So the ceiling tiles, the roof and the doorbell won't matter.

It's never all bad

There's so much going on in my life right now, and much of it is sad. My oldest friend has myriad health problems and not a lot of resources. It seems that my little adopted family -- Napoleon the Cat and his people -- have disappeared without a trace. And two weeks ago tonight, my darling Henry suffered traumatic brain injury.

But I have to stay positive. I have to look ahead. I have to keep functioning.

So I'm thinking about my bathroom remodel. My long-awaited, long-delayed new tub and tile are being installed starting Monday morning. The contractor has his parking pass and I've had a set of keys made. I have scheduled a water shut off for 9:00 AM on 10/29. It's happening! Fingers crossed. I'm trying not to fixate on what can go wrong -- oh! the horror stories I've heard -- and am anticipating my new, white bathroom.

And I'm closely monitoring the news about the upcoming TCM Classic Film Festival. I've got my room booked. I have enough miles to fly to LA for free. Now the first line up of the films has been released. Oh. My. God. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid! Holiday! How I love those two films! And what movie would be better to watch with the TCM family than the first one TCM ever broadcast: Gone with the Wind. I can't wait to celebrate these movies with other members of classic film tribe.

Strangely, it made me feel better

"I am still being asked to report on Henry's condition. I cannot possibly respond to all inquiries. I thought if I updated the GoFundMe page, that would be enough ... Apparently not." So read the pissy little post on Reg's Facebook page.

It was unwise. He is going to be relying on these pesky folks who love Henry for financial and emotional support because Henry's recovery is going to be slow and arduous and expensive. Also, it's not how Henry would want his friends to be treated.

On the other hand, I know Reg is exhausted and scared. The news out of Miami hasn't been good. Except for angry outbursts, Henry has become uncommunicative and now he's battling a lung infection. I remain hopeful because the hospital staff doesn't seem alarmed. Apparently these bumps in the road are to be expected in the treatment of traumatic brain injury. Financial realities demand that Reg leave Henry's side and return to Key West and work. Since he tends bar, it must be so hard for him to deal with the public when his heart is breaking. I get it.

Still, Henry is my dear friend. I love him. I am scared that he won't recover completely, that he'll be different somehow and lost to me. It's possible that he won't even know me at all. It would be nice if I could ask specific questions about his condition and care.

But I cannot. Reg tore a strip out of me more than a week ago, and I have ceased real-time contact. I have since used the USPS to send three notes -- one with a Visa gift card, one with a CVS gift card, one with a Shell gift card -- because I know he needs the help and because I know Henry would want me to keep the lines of communication open.

But I must protect myself. I can't let Reg hurt my feelings. I still have to function. I still have to go to work and live my life ... even though Henry is the first thing I think of every morning. I still can't believe this really happened, but it has. Every day, it's still true.

So when Reg opens my notes -- if he opens my notes -- he can respond by cursing me for my intrusiveness and I'll never know. And it made me feel better to learn today that he's mad at the world, not just me.

If you don't want be called "deplorable," don't act deplorably

As I rule, I want to like First Ladies.* It's an impossible role. There's no job description, yet everyone is ready to tell you that you're doing it wrong. For example: If you pay too much attention to wardrobe and furnishings (from Mary Lincoln to Nancy Reagan), you're superficial. If you aren't a clothes horse (Yoo-hoo! Bess, Rosalyn and Hillary!), you're a depressing drudge. So girls, I've got your back. That includes you, Melania.

Or it did. Until today.

The Clintons and the Obamas received bombs in the mail. Fucking. Bombs. In the mail! I get that Donald Trump wouldn't call them. In that trick bag cranium of his, seeing that his predecessors are OK might be perceived as "weak."

But why hasn't Mrs. Trump publicly reached out to the two couples? To people that she knows who were in peril. Maybe invite them to the White House. Wouldn't that be gracious? Wouldn't that be compassionate? Wouldn't that "be best?"

Nah.

Uh, Melania? The people beside you just received mail bombs ...

*Except Mamie. In real time, Mrs. Eisenhower was very popular. But from what I've read about JBKO and Pat Nixon, she was a stone bitch.

It's time

"Any change? Please?" So asked the man with the paper cup beside the Starbucks front door. This was a few feet from where Caleb and Napoleon used to sit.

I took the crumpled dollar bill that I always have in my jeans, saved for my favorite street cat, and placed it in the young man's cup.

They're not coming back. It gets dark earlier, it's starting to get cold. I don't know where Napoleon, Caleb and Randi are, but after a month I have to accept that they are gone from my life.

I'm still keeping the paperback mystery in my bag, though. I know Caleb would appreciate it. It weighs little. And I could be wrong. I'm wrong all the time about all kinds of things, you know.

$500!

I raised $500 in the last week for my friend Henry. I persuaded 10 of my friends -- none of whom have actually met Henry -- to kick in toward the cost of his rehabilitation and care. I am very proud of this.

It's all I can do, you know. He remains sedated most of the day because when he is awakened, he is angry, and everything must be done to keep him calm so he can heal. But because he is out of it more often than not, there's no way of knowing if he's making any progress.

And so, to stay sane, I concentrate on the cash.

I treasure everyone's gifts. They will not only help dear Henry, they bring me comfort in the here and now. Here are a just a few of the lights that shine especially bright for me ...

• A long-ago boyfriend and his wife. We're all now Facebook friends. You know how, when a relationship ends, you wonder if you handled that well? Well, I take this as an indication that I did handle that breakup OK.

• My Cousin Rose. There has never been a time in my life when I've felt desperate that she hasn't come through for me.

• My niece. She's always broke, you know. Laboring under the crushing weight of her student loans. But she remembers how, when she was a little girl, Henry sent her a Lilly Pulitzer dress to wear on the first day of school. I'd forgotten, but she remembered.

• Kathy. A retiree, she's always broke, too. And yet she pitched in almost instantly. She's been unfailingly kind and attentive throughout this ordeal.

(And, of course, you, too, Snarkela.)

I will keep looking at the list and the dollar amounts. I know love isn't currency and currency isn't love, but right now, it's all I have to stave off the despair.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Sweet City Woman (1971)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) The lyrics tell us the singer is on his way to catch a train and he really wants to be on time. When is the last time you were late for something? Work on Friday. But then, I'm always late. I just can't manage to get out of the house on time in the morning, even though I have three (3!) alarm clocks.

2) He sings he's on his way to meet a woman known for her macaroons. What's your favorite cookie? Those clever elves have switched the fudge stripes to pumpkin for fall!

 
3) His girlfriend's face is so pretty she lights up the city night. How many lights are in the room you're in? How many are switched on? I'm under a ceiling fan. The blades are switched off, but the four bulbs are on.

4) This is the rare top 40 tune that prominently features a banjo. Sam has always been crazy about the sound of a banjo. What sound makes you smile? (It doesn't have to be a musical instrument. Think bacon sizzling, church bells, etc.) My cat Connie's purr. For a compact critter, she has an impressive (and delightful) motor.

5) 47 years after their record was a hit, The Stampeders still tour every summer, playing festivals across the US and their native Canada. Do you enjoy live music under the stars? Or would you prefer to be seated in a theater? I'm a fat old lady with a bum knee. I'll take the theater seat, thank you!

6) In 1971, when this song was popular on the radio, detective shows were popular on TV. Mannix, Ironside and Cannon were all in the Top 20. Who is your favorite TV detective? Before he was SATC's Mr. Big, before he was The Good Wife's Peter Florrick, he was Law and Order's Mike Logan.

7) Also in 1971, the Post Office Department was disbanded as a Cabinet department and became The United States Postal Service. When did you last go to the post office? Were you mailing something? Buying stamps? Picking up a package? Renewing your passport? I sent an American Express giftcard to my friend Reg. Because I wanted a tracking number, I mailed it at the window.

8) Race car legend Jeff Gordon was born in 1971. Do you watch NASCAR? Nope

9) Random question -- Do you have a vaccination scar? If so, where is it? My upper left arm.

The paperback in my bag

I've been carrying The Language of Bees in my briefcase for three weeks now. I don't know anything about it, except it's a period mystery. It's not for me anyway. I picked it up for Napoleon's "dad," Caleb. He goes through books so fast, it's as though he eats them! For this homeless man and his wife, Randi, books are everything -- their only entertainment and respite from the difficult dreariness of life on the street.

But that paperback has been in my bag for three weeks now. I haven't seen Caleb, Randi or Napoleon in nearly a month.

Last time I talked to Caleb, I offered to bring him some clothes from my friend John. Caleb said that of course he wanted them, that if he couldn't wear them himself he knew plenty of others in the homeless community who would appreciate them. But it was Randi he really wished I could help. The anti-cancer meds made her leg swell, and it was hard for her to find clothes. I asked him to check with her, to make a note of the sizes she wants, and I'd see what I can do.

Then I took a few days off to visit my nephew at college. Since I've been back, this little family has

disappeared.

I haven't gone this long without seeing at least one of them since we met, back in May 2017. If it had been a week or two, I would just assume that Caleb was taking extra shifts at the warehouse where he drives a forklift. He's always willing for more hours, better shifts.

But as the weeks melt into a month, I'm afraid it's more dire.  I have nothing to go on but instinct, but I suspect Randi is in the hospital again. She may even have died. It's sad but true -- the survival rates for pancreatic cancer are not good.

I miss interacting with Caleb, Randi and Napoleon so much! They keep me grounded and remind me of what life is like for those outside of my immediate bubble. And I like Caleb, especially. He's curious. Plus, there's a healing power to cat fur.

I hope they're OK. I pray they're OK. I don't think they are OK.

She knew me!

I worked with an executive at the start of her career with my downstate client. She was smart, to be sure, but all sharp elbows. Of course, she's the client, so she gets to be any way she wants. I know I delivered for her, but I was never sure how pleased she was with my efforts. Shortly after she announced she was pregnant with her second baby, she moved to another part my client's business, which would allow her to work 3 days/week. The company is a big place, and I never saw her again.

That was 8 years ago.

Tuesday she was up in Chicago. New capacity, same job. As she toured our new offices, she caught side of me and called, "Gal!" She gave me a big hug and we chatted for a while. It seems she was always more fond of me than I ever knew.

So that's something good about our heinous open seating. Everyone saw me interact with her and I got a few extra brownie points from management and a lot more respect from my coworkers.

I must remember: this isn't about me

I admit it: I'm really having a hard time with Henry's accident (see post below). He is closer to me than family, and I'm terrified. He has brain damage. What if he doesn't remember me? What if he's different and we aren't friends anymore? I can't imagine my life without him.

His partner, Reg, has been kind of a trick bag. He called three times right after the accident. Saturday he told me that if he didn't update me, Henry would never forgive him. However, by Sunday night, he was clearly annoyed with me. Phyl, the neighbor who drove Reg up to Miami, and is staying with Henry while poor Reg has to go to work, is obviously, a nice woman. But I've never liked her. She drinks too much, smokes too much weed, and is a sloppy drunk. Over the years, I've never enjoyed her company. I've always told the boys that if they want to hang with her when I'm down visiting, great. But I'm good with my own company. I'll stay at the hotel by the pool, or walk Duval Street or have a margarita on the beach. Whatever. Enjoy! I just don't want to see her. It's worthy of note that Reg has never wants to see her, either.

Well, Sunday, Reg kept saying, "Look, I know you don't like Phyl, but ..." I have said nothing negative about Phyl throughout this ordeal. "I know you don't like Phyl, but she's Henry's other half. I'm glad she's staying with Henry, even if you don't like her." Over and over and over!

"I don't matter in this," I finally said. "You do what's best for you."

He told me that the sound of my voice made him cry, and he doesn't want to cry.

I asked him if he wanted to stay at the hotel in Miami another night, because I could make that happen for him. I'd be happy to pay for it. Just tell me how ...

"I'm sick of people asking me questions I can't answer!"

So now I'm just "people?"

I told him he doesn't need to update me anymore. That I'll be happy to get news from his friend, Patrick -- I adore Patrick -- if that would be easier. He said that was fine. I haven't heard from him since.

I know Reg is suffering. The love of his life almost died. If Henry's personality is changed, what will that do to their relationship? And then there's money. If Reg isn't working, he's not getting paid. They were broke before this happened. The enormity and complexity of their financial woes must be crushing.

So I hear from Patrick every day. I am super perky at work and then I go him and go to sleep -- which is stupid because I have to much to do to get my home ready for the next stage of my bathroom remodel. But I'm hurt and scared and I feel very, very alone.

So for inspiration and solace, I turn to my skipper. Cubs manager Joe Maddon. He will help me get my mind right.

I must remember that Henry would want Reg and I to get along. That Reg is doing the best he can in an impossible situation. That I am healthy and lucky to be healthy. That I have to be about love and stay about love.