Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote,
Cleolinda Jones

Checking in

I just realized that, once again, I've been quiet for a few days.

I hope everyone's all right; I've heard from at least one of y'all (on Twitter) who's in Japan. Speaking of which, Maureen Johnson is running another Shelterbox donation drive with plenty of book prizes; it ends tomorrow morning-ish (depending where in the world you are).

This is kind of the wrong time to be all like, "And here are the reasons why I am stressed (they do not include earthquakes, tsunamis, or nuclear reactors)," I guess. But you'll understand where I've been, anyway. My mother's on her third week of bronchitis, although things are looking up, and the family doctor managed to keep it from turning into walking pneumonia. Somehow, I have managed not to come down with this. Yet. And I visited the nursing home today, so the weekend is still young.

Speaking of the nursing home--my grandmother (I can't remember if I've mentioned this or not) has been at a really nice place since before Christmas, after she finished physical therapy for her brain surgery, since she can't live on her own anymore. That's been a tough adjustment for her, and she's only recently accepted that she won't ever be able to live on her own again. We were dreading having to tell her that it wasn't just another temporary recovery situation; we were very fortunate in that she came to this conclusion on her own before we had to. So now, we're getting the house ready to put on the market; neither she nor we can afford the house and assisted living, obviously. And this is both physically and emotionally stressful--you know what it's like, having to deep-clean and make repairs on a house to get it ready. And in this case, since my grandmother's not moving to another house with equal space... she's having to sell or give away a lot of her things. It's distressing just to see it, someone's material life broken up this way, so I can't imagine what it's like to actually come to terms with it yourself. It's disturbingly similar to what happens after someone actually dies, except that she's still here to tell us what to do with things. We're honestly really lucky that there's just five of us--my mother, my aunt, my sister, and my cousin--to divide things, and we're all very reasonable and accomodating and not inclined to feud over the china.

Also, Sam, our pomeranian--

--is going blind. He has cataracts in both eyes--20% vision in one eye and 70% in the other. Which explains why he and the others--Scout, Shelby, and Bad Cat--keep getting into fights: if they approach him from the left, he can't really see what they're doing and gets defensive. And it's just really weird, because Sam's fourteen years old, but he looks like a perpetual puppy. We've got cognitive dissonance going, in addition to everything else.

And I can't really get into it, but apparently my sister's met a guy who went from zero to Danger Town in two dates, to the point where she wants to sleep over here tonight. It's one of those things--you almost just want to say, "I'm afraid something might happen," just so it won't.

I'm still on Twitter RTing links now and then, since that takes all of two seconds and very little contemplation. I'm working on a new Varney recap, maybe a book review post or two--that's what I've been doing, researching and writing--but I may or may not show up again before then. Of course, as sure as I say that I need Quiet Times, I'll be right back here tomorrow. But that's what's going on.

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Tags: charity, house of bark, my grandmother, my mother, sam, sister girl

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