About Me

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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Monday, October 08, 2012

Home and safe and hopeful.

We are back from Houston. I drove two good-sized chunks of it yesterday and virtually all of it this afternoon.  Beloved has/had an intermittent, fierce headache dancing all over the inside of his skull. We think part of it is that the frames on his new glasses are too snug. So he will get that fixed while I am at work.

We should hear in a couple of days if he has gotten into the targeted therapy at MD Anderson, but it is looking good. They have to do another CT of his head (because of the headaches) and are doing an MRI of his spine (to make sure that the pain in his derriere is strictly muscle-related, as we believe).

We have had family prayer, and he will be crawling into bed any minute now, and I will be heading out to the living room to finish depressurizing from the drive. I drank most of a 20 oz Cherry Coke on the way down last night, and I polished it off this afternoon, and to say that I am wired would be the mother of all understatements.

The lovely blessing which he got after church yesterday has spilled over onto me. Ordinarily, there is no way on this lovely green Earth that I could have driven 90% of a 250+ mile drive and been able to walk afterward. Not only am I moving around the house at a somewhat livelier than usual clip, I was the one who unloaded the car (not that there was much to unload, this time around; we ate pretty much everything we took, and I am quietly devouring the last of the gingersnaps, so the rest was mostly laundry, which is now in the hamper).

I found the one yarn shop in Houston which was theoretically open on Monday, and when I walked inside, it looked like it was being run by two good looking young guys, and I thought huzzah! but they turned out to be electricians, and the owner had just left.

I have to tell you about our room. If the battery had not been dead on his laptop, Beloved was tempted to post a description on FB. Shall we just say that it was, more or less, the equivalent of a honeymoon suite because our reservation had gotten lost in space, and that was the only nonsmoking room on the ground floor which was still available. So they upsized us. Headboard consisting of a ginormous mirror, which inspired no end of ribaldry on our part with a side order of wishing that we both felt more lively. Jacuzzi with a sign requesting that it not be turned on until all of the jets were properly underwater. Obedient sort that I am, I complied, but I think somebody must have hit something when cleaning it. because once the water hit about half-mast, there were geysers spraying out into the room from the back of the tub. A process which repeated itself with only slightly less enthusiasm as the tub drained after my (solo) soak.

I would say that the vast majority of the patrons of this clean, small, inexpensive inn are middle-aged to geriatric cancer patients/families like Beloved and Ms. Ravelled. I wonder how many of them can truly appreciate a mirrored headboard? I will add that it was not particularly comfortable to lean up against while knitting in bed. But at least we were not sleeping in Lorelai, or under a bridge.

Beloved is horizontal and fading fast. The only sounds in our room are the ticking of our clock and the tapping of my fingers on the keys. Night, all...

1 comment:

still here and never going back said...

I hope his headache eases up. Blessings to both of you.