There are so many ideas cluttering up my brain I don't even know where to start. I do know I need to do a brain dump more often so the bad ones can be released and the good ones have a chance to grow.
This weekend in 39 hours we spent 11 of them driving. Fortunately Don picked up "Outlander" from the library before we left for Niagara Falls and Ohio -- two more trips I want to blog about so the memories don't fade away. The 28 CD set has kept us entertained during a lot of driving the past three weeks. We have made it to CD 24. Each CD is about an hour. We do not want to get back in the car for any more long car rides. Tonight Don said he is done with Outlander -- it was a great distraction, but it is too much of a soap opera where the heroine (Claire) jumps from one crisis to another with hardly a breath in-between (well, except for the bodice ripping experiences she has -- the poor woman keeps going through dresses in an era when you couldn't just order a new one on-line). I'll likely read the last bit then decide if I want to read the 8 other equally long books already written (plus one the author promises to finish once the characters tell her what is happening in their lives).
Oddly I have writers block after saying all that.
Another topic...Today I finished reading Delia Ephron's book "Left on Tenth: a second chance at life." Despite the happy ending, I feel sad. The autobiography is about finding love again following the death of her husband, and contracting lymphoma -- the same disease the killed her famous sister, Nora Ephron. Her first husband died from cancer, which somehow led her to reconnecting with someone she dated when she was 18. That part was sweet. He seems too good to be true, but perhaps she made him seem even more amazing because she knew he would read this book of her feelings. She treats just about everyone else in the book the same way -- they were all amazing to her during her treatments, no friend was ever mean. There was only one doctor she did not like, and she changed his name so she would not hurt his feelings. It was a bit overwhelming to read about everyone being wonderful and how wide a cast of friends she has (she never had any children of her own, but has several women she considers surrogate daughters / mothers). I couldn't write a book listing that many people who are unfailingly kind, and willing to drop everything at the drop of a hat to help me, who never complain, never say an unkind word, never hurt me with a slight (real or imagined). The only people she spoke negatively about (besides that one doctor) were her parents and her husband's father -- all of whom are likely dead. It was more than that, though, her battle with lymphoma reminded me of Carin's journey. Their battles were about at the same time. They both had bone marrow transplants, Carin's through her sister, and Delia through a donation bank. They both had the best of care -- Carin in Philadelphia, Delia in NYC. They both battled in 2017. Carin died. Delia lived. What if Carin's doctors tried the approach Delia's doctors did? There were likely other differences in their diseases. In their doctor's approach. The patients' tolerances. I still wish Carin was still here. Next month will be four years since her passing. Still think of her daily.
Another topic...I love the way my new office is turning out, but I'm stumped on the next step. After Yoran moved out (hard to believe it has been a month already) I started to convert his room into my new office -- not too soon as today I began working from home while construction begins at work. I love the periwinkle walls, which Don finally agreed is not too dark a color for the room with the freshly painted white trim and furniture. I adore the trundle bed (even though we don't have a second mattress for it). I'm stumped how to proceed. I left two decades of photo albums in my old office (a.k.a. Don's office) as they won't fit in here. I should start converting them to the readers digest version of each -- which people still won't look at, but I don't want to get rid of all of those memories. It is a lot of work, but in the long run would be more practical. I don't know what to put on the walls. Don doesn't know what to do with my old office (the one he decided he preferred because it faces the front of the house and is larger). Frankly we haven't been home long enough to make sense of it.
I'm hungry. Don is on his way home. I hope to return to share more thoughts -- about Niagara Falls, about connecting with a friend in person after three decades, about Ohio, about whether to job hunt or sign my contract and stay another year, about Aunt Elva's passing, about seeing shows again, about making sense in this crazy world.
For now, eating and enjoying temperatures hovering around 80 instead of in the upper 90s.
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