The Year Ends

Was it a good year for you?

Yeah, me neither.

No job, acute emotional depression, dubious prospects for the new year.

My father died, my grandmother died, and other things were difficult also.

The first post in this blog was titled, "It's Easy to Get Discouraged". It still is.

I am taking antidepressants, and they help some, but not enough, really. I wish I could go back into therapy, but we really can't afford it, and my former therapist has moved away. I am looking for a support group for the long-term unemployed, but there doesn't seem to be one. Maybe I should start one.

On the other hand, we did get the water out of the oil tank so the heater runs again. And we got the mud out of the kitchen sink drain so water runs through it again. I finished my first novel, and possibly it will bring in some money. That'd be good.

And the new year...will be a new year. Anything could happen.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says: "Put one foot in front of the other. Repeat."\\

Corvallis From Above

Here and there around Corvallis, there are aerial photos and aerial views of the city:

At the OSU Registrar, a painting dated 1932.
In the lobby of the Park Plaza Apartments at 124 NW 7th Street, a painting from the 1960s.
Upstairs at the Corvallis-Benton County Public Library, a photo from 1999.
At the city water department, a photo from the 2010s.
At the historical museum in the old Philomath College building, a painting of a speculation of "Corvallis in 2057" which was, fortunately, quite inaccurate in most details.

//The Magic-Eight-Ball says, "Perspective helps."\\

Peace On Earth

I have just read Nate Powell's Any Empire, and I like it rather a lot.

It tells, in a non-linear fashion, about how children's "missions", the play which they approach in absolute earnest, shapes their choices in adult life.

I am especially reviewing it here because one of Powell's young protagonists is deeply impressed by the classic cartoon "Peace on Earth", which deeply impressed me, and remains one of my own holiday favorites.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "People say war exists because of 'the nature of the beast', and they are right, but the beast in question is not Homo sapiens but Leviathan."\\

No American Blackout!

In honor of American Censorship Day, I am turning my blog black.
Sorry if it hurts your eyes.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says: "I'm a good deal more conservative than John, and even I think Federal online censorship is a bad idea, much less giving corporations veto power."\\

Boy, Does My Back Hurt

It started hurting on Friday afternoon, and it hasn't stopped yet.

At times it has been really, really bad. Naproxen helped. So did Cyclobenzaprine. A shot of Toradol at Immediate Care helped a whole lot. Also an electric heating pad and frequent hot soaks in the tub.

Kathe is taking good care of me.

Mostly, though, I'm just waiting for it to get better.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Don't despair. It will get better."\\

Occupy Corvallis

I told people attending tonight's meeting in Corvallis's Central Park that by the time they got home they'd be able to view http://groups.yahoo.com/group/OccupyCorvallis and http://OccupyCorvallis.blogspot.com, and here they are.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Don't forget the already-existing FaceBook page."\\

Questions From Sierra

My niece Sierra sent me an e-mail:

Could you please answer some questions for my family history project? here are 5 questions.


1.What was your life like when you were young?
My parents were college students, living in rented accommodations until I was six years old. I didn’t really understand what all of that meant, other than that Daddy went to “the school” every day to collect “day-da” for his “diss-ree-tation”, and that this was very important work.
Spending my childhood in an academic setting, I learned a great deal, and developed a large vocabulary from an early age. I absorbed concepts like cultural parallax and the need to test an hypothesis. I also absorbed an intellectual snobbery that I didn’t notice for the longest time, making it all that harder to discard.

2.What were people afraid of when you were young?
People talked a lot about pollution and about social changes that seemed to threaten civilization, but above all about the threat of nuclear war. Although my parents tried to divert me from thinking about it, I lived under the threat of destruction until I was twenty-nine years old. I went to school suspecting I would not live to grow up. I joined the Navy because I thought it might be safer than being drafted into the Army when Ronald Reagan inevitably went too far. I got married and had a child still under that shadow, because life did have to go on. It was not until Kathe and I saw the Berlin Wall being demolished that we really believed it was over.

3. What is a story from your childhood?
One day, Dad had been working on an old radio, the kind that was the size of a cabinet and stood on the floor, with a huge green light like an eye at the center of the dial. He talked about how much fun he and his siblings had, listening to old radio shows. He turned it on, joking that since it was an old radio, perhaps it would bring in an old radio show…and it did.
We listened, rapt, to an episode of Chandu the Magician. When it ended, the announcer came on and told us we were listening to the Old Time Radio Hour on KEX 1190 AM. We wound up listening to KEX every night, and recorded episodes on cassette tapes. But I will never forget the eerie experience of hearing those voices and sound effects coming through the radio just as Dad had predicted.

4. What is the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Bicycling home from work after a night shift, I came upon a group of men standing over a fallen jogger. None of them seemed to know what to do. She had a pulse but wasn’t breathing, so I dove in and started giving her mouth to mouth. I gave her breaths until I couldn’t find a pulse, and then started CPR. To spare the others from the risk of infection, I gave her all of the breaths while they took turns giving chest compressions.
One of the men peeled back her eyelid and said, “There’s no pupillary response. I don’t think we need to bother.” I heard the voice of Sergeant Preston of the Yukon shouting, “We will continue until we are relieved!” – and it was me. That’s literally how it felt at the time.
An ambulance came and took over. I went home and went to bed. I heard later that the woman had died, but I knew we had done our part.
They always tell you at CPR classes that the person in charge at an emergency was whoever spoke up first, but I never thought that would be me.

5.What is one thing you’re proud of?
I am very proud of whatever role I have played in how my children have turned out. Some of them were half-grown when I got them, and none of them were related to me genetically, but I did what I could for them. They had many difficulties to overcome, and some of their problems could not be solved, but all four of them have faced and are facing life on their own terms with tremendous courage and persistence.


//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Teach the children well."\\

OMTA Meeting

Kathe and I just got back from the Eugene edition of the annual meeting of the Oregon Massage Therapy Association. The theme of the meeting was keeping your business afloat during the current difficult times.

I noticed that in addition to the meeting being divided into Eugene and Portland editions, almost everything else at the meeting was oriented to either Portland or Eugene. No big surprise, since those are the largest centers of massage activity, but as Kathe put it, there was a distinct lacuna, and we were in it.

So now I am thinking about setting up a mid-Valley chapter covering the Philomath-Corvallis-Albany-Lebanon area, extending maybe as far as Salem and Sweet Home. I will be contacting local LMTs to see what they think of the idea.

I Suspect This Is Not Going to Feel Good Either

Carpal Tunnel Release surgery in the morning.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Adulthood. What fun."\\

They Broke It

I used to be a free-market anarchist, but that was back when the free market hadn't been broken.

Now? The rotters have broken it as thoroughly as they broke the Code of Honor.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "This is why we can't have nice things."\\

Now, This Does Not Feel Good

I have had chest spasms and pains on rare occasions for years, but every test and exam indicated that my heart was in fairly good shape given my overall physical condition, but after today, I am wondering.

Chest pains, a vague sick feeling, no energy -- it does not feel very good at all. I took one of Kathe's nitroglycerine tablets and it seemed to help a little. A few hours later I took another.

I do not feel good right now, no I do not.

Dying right now would really stink.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It usually does."\\

A Couple of Bits of Family News

Kathe sent out this message to the family:

"First, John's grandmother Zoe is definitely on her deathbed, although it seems to be in no hurry to bear her away. We see her at least once a week, and the last time we were there, she slept most of the time. She was awake for five or ten minutes and completely lucid, so we had some conversation. She was completely herself, although Pat and Dorothy say she has been delusional sometimes.

"Second, we have been telling people that we know where Tes is, and that he must be at least mostly okay. But the last letter we sent him, with a money order enclosed*, came back yesterday. We sent it in June to the rehab place where he was staying, and I guess they held it until they were sure he wasn't coming back for it, so now we don't know.

"We're still okay, still discovering new horizons of household economies, but I think winter is going to be a challenge.

"*We send money orders because he can cash them more easily than personal checks."

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Tesfaye can be more easily located than Zoe."\\

Zoe Cook: No Longer Improving

She isn't planning to return to her apartment anytime soon.

But she is surrounded by family and taking a positive attitude. We'll see what comes next.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "There is never anything to do but see what comes next."\\

GoodBlogs

I am trying something new, called GoodBlogs.
http://www.goodblogs.com/bloggers/6565
I don't know whether this "get votes and be paid money" thing really works, but I am willing to give it a try.
Also, it's been years since I wrote reviews of the things I read, but I find I still enjoy it.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Try it and see."\\

Zoe Cook Continues to Improve

See?

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Seeing is believing."\\

Buy My Massage Book

If you haven't been to my new massage blog, go take a look:

http://johnmburtlmt.blogspot.com/2011/07/buy-my-book.html

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Nice book you have there."\\

The Salmon Cage

I have just published a story of mine on Amazon.com for the first time:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Salmon-Cage-ebook/dp/B005BCP7L4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1310151380&sr=8-2

I am hopeful for the story. I think it's a good one. Of course, that is no guarantee that anyone will be interested in it, or even know that it exists.

But, as I say, I am hopeful.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Your only choices are to live in hope, or to live without hope."\\

Yes, Riverbend

http://www.peacehealth.org/shmc

patient tracking 370551

Mom and Pat are at her side.

She has had corrective surgery and is reported to be comfortable at the moment.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Hold on."\\

Grandma's In The Hospital*

*Probably Riverbend, but I'll let people know when I know for certain.

She fell and broke her hip last night.

Mom (Dorothy) is rushing to her side.

I'll let you know more when I know more.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Keep calm and carry on."\\

Kill Your Darlings

Peni R. Griffin recently posted a deleted scene from her latest story on her blog. That sounded like a good way of assuaging the pain of doing so, so I will now try it myself:

A two-lane paved road, the Niemandslandbahn, connected a row of towns from the Alps to the North Sea. Some had already existed, like Armentieres, while others grew out of the temporary shelters built in No-Man's Land, and had names like Pax Romana, Réconciliation and "Wir Sagen So". Thousand of French Citroens, British Wolesleys and German Autopopuli drove along it every day, except on December 25th, when all traffic ceased for 24 hours, and much of its length was used for festivals and parades.

Heh, that does feel better.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Learn from the experience of others."\\

Out With The Old, In With The Stored

Big events taking place around here -- big by our standards, anyway.

* We got rid of the two worst mattresses in our bed and replaced them with a mattress and box spring from the majestic bed, formerly belonging to my parents and given to me about 30 years ago, in which I slept for oh, a couple of years in the 1980s. The bed, stored in our shed for a number of years and eventually borrowed back by my parents, has now been rescued from my mother's Corvallis mobile home and stored in our storage locker. So, still not actually sleeping in the bed, but it is my hope to have it assembled in some room of the house eventually.

And meanwhile, the bed we're actually sleeping in is more comfortable. And taller.

* We finally pulled some of the old stuff out of the garage and placed it where it will do some good. The hardwood chunks left behind by Corky the woodcarver who used to have his workshop in our shed have gone to a woodcarver in Albany, and the organic gardening magazines have been claimed by someone else. Thank you, Freecycle groups!

* We are finally cleaning out "the boys' room" (where several young boys and teenagers have lived for most of the time Kathe has owned the house) and are turning it back into a habitable bedroom.

Not a lot of progress, but some.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A little and a little and a little...."\\

My father left very few things undone. One that comes to mind is that he never published or wrote (so far as I know) a science fiction novel like the ones he so liked to read.

One story that he mentioned he would enjoy writing is one in which the Central powers were victorious in the First World War.

I'm not writing that story either, but I am right now engaged in a project inspired by the Christmas Truce of December, 1914, and it does involve an alternate history and a different outcome for the war that his own father fought in. And I do think of my father and his father often as I write.

I feel another affinity for my father as I work: I am doing it in no small part because I have a family to support.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Filius est pars patris, for better or worse, like it or not."\\

Goodbye to the Stink Factory

One of my first memories of the Greater Corvallis Co-Prosperity Sphere was of the incredible wet-dog stench of the papermill we always called "the Stink Factory".

Today we drove past it and saw that the walls are being removed. We could see daylight through it.

Kathe wrote to the family: They are taking it apart! I can't remember before it was there, and soon it will be gone! Of course, it hasn't operated since a year ago last Christmas. Is that right? Or was it two years? Great time to close Millersburg's main business. Oh, about that Christmas break . . . take all the time you want . . .

Apparently the world needs a lot less kraft paper, now that so many of us bring our own bags to the grocery store.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "I'm glad I'm not a paper-dependent fortune cookie."\\

Walden and Mary Got Married

Wow.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Amazing."\\

'Bye, Bellfountain

Kathe and I went to Bellfountain one last time today, to retrieve a few more items and for one last walk-through.

That's it. We have given up the keys and will have no more reason to go out there.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "To everything there is a season."\\

Plan For Armageddon, But....

My father once told me a story about a congregation which had been thrown into great anxiety by their pastor's lurid sermons about the imminence of Armageddon, until someone passed the word that the pastor, although doubtless quite sincere in his belief that the end could come at any moment, had been seen in his yard, planting fruit trees.

I thought of that the other day, while collecting more of Dad's things from the barn, walking past the small grove that lay between the house and the creek.

He planted those trees. I have eaten fruit from them. Now he is dead, and his ashes are nourishing their roots. The trees and the house and the land are all going to be sold soon. The people who eat the fruit from those trees are unlikely to know the name or the life of the man who planted the trees. But the trees are still there, and will be for years to come.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Be prepared for the end to come at any moment -- but plant fruit trees."\\

A Flag

Out driving around with Kathe today, I saw a flag I'd never seen before (the one with trees). I was interested enough that we went around and stopped at the house. The woman there said her husband had bought it, and she thought it was the flag of the province of Prince Edward Island, or maybe the personal banner of King Richard the Lionhearted.

I have no idea what either of those things might mean to her husband, but it was an interesting experience.

Oh, and for the record, it is PEI. Richard's banner is the one with three lions.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A flag can mean many things."\\

My Father's Funeral Is Today

He died not long after my last post. Services will be held at the First United Methodist Church in Monroe, which he and my mother attended for some years. Afterward, my brothers and I will scatter his ashes at the land at Bellfountain where he and Mom lived for the last 20 years (but which Mom has just sold).

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Keep it together."\\

What a Good Boy

I'm not getting up at 4:00 to go help with my father anymore. Instead, I'm getting up at 3:45 to ride with Kathe on her paper route.
Among other things, I'm trying to learn the route so I can cover for her if need be.
I am learning things about how I learn things. I notice that I still fail to integrate verbal or written instruction with practice -- even when I have both read and done the task before. A significant difficulty if I want to go back to nursing school.
I also noticed something else that might be even more useful: I got quite upset over a series of mistakes, and noticed that I wasn't successfully calming myself. Quite the contrary, I was reinforcing it. Was I enjoying the rush of emotion?
I don't think that was quite it. I think it was that I was saying to myself, "I made a mistake. That's bad. But I am a good boy. I have to be. I am quite upset over that mistake, so clearly I know how bad it is. I had better make myself even more upset, so I can be sure I was upset enough, or else I won't be good enough."
Got to stop thinking that way. Ummm, make that, I've got to stop responding that way.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Or perhaps, 'I have to start responding differently'."

George Sherwin Burt, 1930-2011

My brother David has written this obituary for our father:
George Sherwin Burt
July 4, 1930 — March 6, 2011
George Sherwin Burt died peacefully at home in Corvallis, Oregon in the presence of his family on March 6, 2011. Despite health problems during his final years, he remained spirited and engaged with life until the end. His family and friends benefited from his presence and will miss him greatly.
George was born in San Francisco to John and Velma Burt. After graduating from high school George served in the Air Force during the Korean War, where he instructed South Korean servicemen in radio operations. George’s experiences in Korea were the beginning of a life-long love of teaching and helping others. After being honorably discharged from the Air Force, George earned a Master’s in Psychology from San Jose State University, and eventually his PhD from Arizona State University.
In 1959, George married Dorothy Cook, who remained at his side through many adventures and until the end of his life. George and Dorothy moved to Corvallis, where they would raise their three sons in 1966, when George began his 24 year employment with Oregon State University as a professor of psychology. A very engaging teacher, he involved himself in the well being of those who studied with him. He read voraciously and always viewed the world with wonder. The love of science that he encouraged in his students was more than academic and spilled over into all aspects of his life. At the same time, he never let his dedication to intellectual pursuits supersede his concern for what was going on in the world. He conveyed this profound enjoyment of life to those around him, including the many friends he made in Africa and South America.
When George retired from OSU in 1990, he and Dorothy began a new adventure when they enrolled in the Peace Corps, where they would complete two tours instructing local people in agriculture in Tunisia, 1990-1992 and in Paraguay in 1994-1996.
Upon the couple’s return from the Peace Corps, George continued to work for social, political and environmental causes in many roles and took the welfare of all those he met to heart—especially the rural poor of Benton County. He continued to assist with community food banks and other charitable endeavors until his health rendered him unable to do so.
Until the end, George possessed a love of science, the world, and other human beings that filled himself and those around him with joy and the drive to do good works.
He is survived by his wife of 51 years, Dorothy Cook Burt; his sons John, David, and Thomas; his grandchildren Walden, Mestowet, Ashnakech, Tesfaye, Sierra, Darius, Cuba, Linda, and Andrea; and his Sister Anne Hiler.
A service will be held at the Monroe United Methodist Church at 11 A.M. on Saturday, April 2, 2011
George asked that you give of yourself to some cause that is important to him or to you. He wouldn’t want to dictate to your conscience. If you have to give money instead, make it a gift to something important---by the way, there was nothing more important to George than children. They are our future.

Thank you for writing this, David, and thank you for being with Dad when he passed.

//The Magic Eight Ball says, "Everything changes and ends."\\

The Mysterious Island

Kathe and I have been watching a lot of videos from the library lately. We saw a Ray Harryhausen film awhile back, and she mentioned that she hadn't seen most of them, so I reserved all of them that the library had.

The most recent one was The Mysterious Island, and that reminded me of just how many film versions of it there have been, and how many extraneous elements each of them have had: giant crabs, a feral child, cultures of aquatic humanoids, Caribbean pirates of the 1600s in the western Pacific of the 1860s, a rival in his own submarine, an oddball tie-in with a totally different Verne novel and so on.

I suppose it's the result of the book's being a sequel to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, one of the most famous books of all time (even in English, where it has suffered from some very poor translations), but isn't anywhere like as colorful or bombastic.

Still, invaders from Mercury...?

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "The book remains unharmed, on the shelf over there."\\

Who Said That?

I don't recall who said it -- not one of those famously thoughtful or witty persons, but someone famous -- and for that matter, I can't recall exactly what it was he said, but it was something like,
If I had my way, I would start life as a little boy, following which I would be a young girl, after which I would be a young man, then a mature lady, and end my life as an old gentleman.
Something along those lines, anyway.
The other day something reminded me of that thought, and I turned it over in my mind and saw the sense in it. But my next thought was that this is rather like the way we do live today:
Pretty much everyone, regardless of gender or race or social class, has a childhood that includes riding bicycles and playing soccer and collecting cards.
Pretty much everyone spends their adolescence deeply concerned about clothing and grooming and social events.
Pretty much everyone leaves school as an adventurer: going to college or starting a business or joining the Army or doing something else reckless and glorious.
Pretty much everyone tries to arrive at "a certain age" with some measure of gravitas and respectability and if at all possible, some degree of financial security.
And pretty much everyone would like to end their lives with a few good stories to tell.
It's not a perfect model, but I do think we live closer to that now than we ever have.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Find the good in being who you are, and welcome whom you are becoming."\\

Second Breakfast

Greatly though I have always admired the lifestyle of the Hobbits of the Shire, I have never gone so far as to indulge in the practice of "second breakfast" until just now.

I get up at 0400 (I used to get up along with Kathe at 0345, but that tended to interfere with her getting ready for her paper route), eat a half-sandwich and drink coffee, and cross town to my parents' new place. I assist my father as best I am able (the last few days, I have just been giving him a bed bath and putting socks on him, because he hasn't been up for getting out of bed), and go home to get in bed with Kathe (who is usually home by then) at about 0630. We get up about 0830 or so and have (second) breakfast together -- usually for me, another half-sandwich.

Small as they are, that does still mean adding another meal to the day. My weight is probably going up. I haven't been checking lately. Too much else to worry about.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Too much to do is not an excuse for neglecting your health."

George S. Burt

Dad recovered from his bladder infection enough to leave the hospital for the nursing home, and then recovered enough to go home.

He was home two days and then when I arrived to help my mother get him up, found him on the floor. We could not between us get him into his wheelchair, so we finally called 911.

All we thought Dad needed was fore three or four burly EMTs to hoist him into his chair, but as they checked him out, they found more problems and took him to a hospital (one which was closer than his last one, but not as nice).

They had been in the process of moving from their hobby farm into town, but this latest crisis and Dad's further deterioration inspired them to move up the schedule.

It should be easier for Mom to take care of him in town, and emergency response will be faster. It will be easier for me, since instead of a half-hour drive to help get him up in the morning, it will be just a ten-minute bicycle ride. I am looking forward to having an excuse for a bicycle commute -- nothing puts me in a better mood for work.

Still, two hospitals and two homes within the span of a week is a lot for a failing old man to deal with. And Dad is going downhill all the time. There is less of him each day.

Part of the reason Mom finally bought a place in town was that Dad no longer recognized the view out the window as his own land, bought with his own earnings. The property, and the cash value of it (as real estate and as standing timber) had been a source of satisfaction to him, but if he didn't even know what it was, there was not much point in staying there.

Last week, I helped him out of bed and steadied his walker on the way to take a shower. Today, I gave him a bed bath and helped him transfer to a recliner, and in the evening back into bed. Soon, I expect, he won't get out of bed at all.

I'd been warned that it would be a very difficult experience for me, the first time my father didn't recognize me. That hasn't happened yet (though he has been a bit hazy on how he is related to me), but the other day something arguably worse happened: he asked me where he was and what the date was. When I told him, he smiled and said, "So I am George Burt!"

Well, at least he was pleased by the knowledge. And well he should be.

You could do a lot worse than to be George Sherwin Burt, and have lived his life these past eighty years.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Do what you can."\\

The Ronald Reagan Centennial

Let us never forget the many ways in which Ronald Reagan changed the world forever.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Never forget."\\

Dad Goes Home

Not yet moved into the new house in Corvallis, but at least back to the old place at Bellfountain.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A little and a little and a little...."\\

Soaking

Dear Kathe:

I love you.

I love you so much that over the last 27 years, it has soaked into every fiber and fluid in my body.

When I realized that being too emotionally dependent upon you was not good for either of us (my therapist once told me it seemed as though we had become potbound, our roots painfully intertwined), I thought that learning to stand on my own would mean that I would not love you quite so intensely and passionately. It was quite a surprise to find that actually I was able to love you far more.

Friction and frustration and defensiveness built up over years of difficult times have made both of us shy of saying what we are both thinking. This note is a small step towards reminding us both of a simple fact of life:

John loves Kathe.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Yes."\\

Now It's Dad's Turn...

...to be hospitalized*, with a new multi-species bladder infection and aspiration pneumonia.

He's at Riverbend, the same Springfield hospital where his mother-in-law stayed.

All of which means it is my turn in the barrel tonight.

Not that other people don't have it harder. Mom, for instance. Still, this gets old after awhile.

Not that other people aren't older.

Sometimes I feel nostalgic about working night shifts, and having been one of Night's Own Children is a cherished part of my identity, and to be sure if I am offered a night job I would take it so fast I'd be there the night before, but I don't think I want to actively court a night job.**

//The Magic Eight Ball says, "Stand watch through the night. Somebody's got to do it."\\

*Funny, I thought I had written at least something about Grandma's heart attack last week. Maybe later I will go back and make a post about it.

** Which means either that I am getting old, or that I no longer need to abuse myself in order to feel worthy of love and respect. Or both, I guess.