As I sat with my leg pump for an hour this evening, I thought about all of the machines that help me do my work and provide health care for me. The leg pump has a real name. It’s a leg and ankle compression massager. At least, that’s what I think it’s called, but I can’t find its paperwork.
Today, as I was doing my laundry, I started wondering about some things that happen. Do you wonder about what goes on in your world that doesn’t seem to have an explanation?
Every time we moved, Mom would take it in stride, pack up our belongings, and make sure the move happened. I think as kids, we never really understood what hardships she endured, every time this occurred.
It is said that we are a nation of immigrants. Except, of course, the indigence peoples. And, there is some question from some circles that the indigenous peoples came to this continent across the Bering Strait. We will never know for sure.
While at Marina del Ray, I completed painting the image in my sketch book and caught my flight back home. Months went by, and the check with which I’d paid for Henry’s paintings never cleared my bank. I called Mary who told me that it was not uncommon for Henry to forget to deposit checks. She took care of the matter in California, and I went about my business at home.
Henry Fukuhara was a gentleman, a watercolorist, a teacher, a resident of Manzanar, a mentor, a husband and father, and he was my friend. And I loved him. Yes, I loved him.
Daughter #1 and I just returned from a trip to Wisconsin to visit kin. Driving to Wisconsin, our first day was clear and sunny. In the afternoon, while talking with Daughter #3, she mentioned fog. She and Grand #1 were driving home to Appleton from picking up the oxygen concentrator for my use, and they were driving in fog. Fog immediately descended on us driving east on I-80 about 400 miles away from where they were driving! Power of suggestion?
This year, I thought I would take stock of what I do and don’t do at Christmas, any more. I find that I don’t do more than I do do. Sometimes, this makes me sad. Truth be told, so many of these things were things that Larry did for the holidays.
This past week, I’ve had the pleasure of listening to the Civic Center building carillon. Volunteers from all walks of life spend their precious holiday time going to the Civic Center in downtown Denver to entertain the visitors to the Center by playing holiday music for almost an hour. Some of them, like my friend, have been doing it for years.
Sometimes, this happens. I get to 8:40 at night on Tuesday and suddenly am hit with the realization that I have a BLOG to write. Talking with sister Clara in her Texas (I’ve told you that we talk every day – sometimes for more than an hour), it hit me. BLOG! Capital letters – BLOG! I asked Clara what I should write about, tonight. I have four hours before I post for tomorrow’s Cranky Crone News. Only four hours. It takes that long to edit and correct a blog – usually.
Her response was quick. Write about waking me up from sound sleep just to talk. “You mean, Waking the Bear from her Lair?” Good idea. So here it is.