2001
| May 24, 2001 First you get up. This is not too easy since my sons, both of them, fed me bourbon the night before. Two shots. The bourbon was actually bought to cook with. I am hoping to get a chocolate cake recipe for it - I've had one of those cakes. It's great! You can only eat 1 tablespoon at a time. Very, very rich. Isn't anything good? Great with French vanilla ice cream. So I got up at 6AM and blinked bleary-eyed into the mirror. And put the cat in the bathroom. Third time tonight. He just is in one of his stubborn states. And his claws are too long. And he is determined to rip wood off my bedroom door. Loudly. At times like these I stumble out of bed a few times a night and toss him into the bathroom. He rips at that door but I can't hear it. I let him out the next time I roll over (the arthritis causes me to wake up). I let him out. We repeat this several times a night. This morning, Little Bit stood outside the bathroom and cried. They are always either getting along or fighting - spitting and hissing at each other. This morning she wanted Ranger out because it was time for running madly through the house. They sort of pelt around since they weigh about 12 lbs apiece. I stumbled out to the kitchen and watered and fed everyone. And put the dog outside. And had my coffee. Then and only then, I let Ranger out to run around. I printed out stuff for today's department offsite. I fixed oatmeal and eggs and juice for my younger son. He hurmphed and rolled over. I put out his pills. I took mine (lots of them). I used my nasal spray and took my allergy pills. I used the asthma inhaler. I scrambled for my pants. No matching top handy for the pair I grabbed. OK - black pants, ooops, small. That's not good. Large is too big. I finally found the medium ones. I pulled curlers and spronged hairpins. I put on makeup. I set up a plate and scissors and advised my son to get into the kitchen for his lunch. And what he could eat. He growled. He can wheel there. He can use the walker. He should be fine. I thihk he gets around behind my back when I am not home. Secret practice. I raced to the car. Wait. I have a map of the compound for where we will be - but no directions to get there! Back in I go. Rev up the G4 and monitor and modem. Watch the clock. Pace about a bit. And download a map - except that Yahoo does not display on the G4 - I must be missing a plugin. But I do get road directions. I would have done this at work but my NT is dead. I am now 40 minutes behind schedule. Ho hum. I get to the freeway at the peak of morning traffic. If it has a peak. It never seeems not to be rush hour. It's the great 880 - 237 to 85 rush. And they are now going to repave 880. They are working on 237. And they are building a new interchange between the two. By the time it is finished, it will be too little, too late. I have learned to relax in traffic. I have to. I don;t want to have a seizure. I will arrive when I arrive. I turn up the radio and rock out to country music or the Bone - old rock. No talk. Need a beat. Well, I found the place - wrong driveway. It says so on the compound map. I went back and down one block and found another street - guessing because the map and street sign do not match. Voila! The first letter was clipped. I am near Stanford. Read expensive, big houses. Very expersive and very big houses. I want one. I get in to the driveway, driving with the mao in hand. Only one car. Hmmm. But I see a little sign. It tells me to go through the gate and in to the right. I made it! And I am not the last to arrive. Good. See? Never pays to fuss. Not in traffic. I will now sit and sip decafe. |
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