Thanks, guys

What do you do when your blog will not work? Start a new blog elsewhere.

If you had one more day to live, what would you want to do or say?

I would want to tell each of the many PHers who boost me when I am down just how much she means to me. Each encouraging word keeps me going. The examples you all set put me to shame. I have no reason to cry and complain. Each of you is special.

I would want to feel the cool spring breeze caress my cheek one more time. The smell and feel of a gentle, warm rain. I would like to sit in a comfortable chair with a blanket and cat and watch half-dollar size snowflakes gently float to rest with their brethren. I would want to lie on grass in the shade on a summer’s day and listen for small airplanes overhead. I would want to walk outside in the fall and see glorious colors and smell someone’s fireplace burning.

I would want to hear a child full of joy and laughter as he runs to see me.

I would like to tell my best friend how much she has meant to me over the years. No words suffice, though I try often.

Online friends this past year – what a wonderful, caring group.

Old friends, those who took the time to check on me, thanks. Friends, those of you who included me, thanks.

Live today.

Later.

Tidal wave

Hello, sadness my old friend, I've come to talk to you again ....

I seem to make messes quite unintentionally. I just should keep my cybermouth shut. Period.

Other relationships move in positive directions. I enjoy these small exchanges of repartee. I hope eventually this expands.

Am I sad because I isolate, or do I isolate because I am sad?

Believing the best in everyone gets me into trouble. Take the yard man. I paid him before he finished the yard. The yard sits half finished. I suspect he decided to party instead.

I bet a certain someone would express shock to learn I actually defended them -- not once, but twice.

I wonder if I canonize you? I question this over and over knowing a good answer does not exist. I do know you were special. I know you pretended with some people.

All these questions haunt me still. The great enigma of you.  You gotta love it. You know what? The desire for a mystery itself says more than your words. Or speaks louder, maybe.

Do I have a right to mourn you so? Because I do. Days go by, I remember something you said, some comment about shit sports. I grin.

Then like a tsunami the sadness and grief overcome me. Like today. I cannot think about you without tears falling. I miss you...

Later.

Net gain

Today I got the internet, email and FB back. I was without almost 48 hours to the minute. When the technician came to fix my neighbor's phone, he undid mine. Today a very helpful technician got mine fixed in a matter of 10 minutes because he was smart enough to listen to what I had to say about what the problem was. He was polite, too.

* * *

I learned a lesson today. You can depend on some people and not on others. You would think after 60 some odd years I would know this. I always give everyone the benefit of a doubt. Next time, I hope I take this into account, then I will not be disappointed.

* * *

Miss you, dude.

Later.

Free opinions

Pogo fusses at me this morning. He walks by and mutters. Mmmmrrr. MMMMRRRRR. I suspect popping the top on a can of grilled chicken will quell the yells. He marches off toward the bedroom, so I gain a few minutes reprieve. I near the bottom of my first cup of coffee for the day. Pogo will beat me to the kitchen though I am closer by several steps.

* * *

My young CF friend puts on an emo show every day on FB. He pops up every now and then on FB chat. He makes interesting conversation.

* * *

I am not a give 'em hell kinda person. Though I need the bosentan, I could not yell at the insurance representative on the phone. If and when the situation works out does not worry me.

* * *

Thanks for the FB message, dude. Friends of all stripes add zest to our lives, wisdom or no. I am fortunate. Counting blessings makes me more thankful.

* * *

Pushing an agenda on the masses. Nothing new there except the methods gain sophistication. Someone posts something as true. Well, sorta. The lemmings of the world pass this partial truth along but over time it morphs into more and more fiction and less and less fact.

We need the Woodwards and Bernsteins. We need someone to hold a mirror up to show us our true faces.

Somewhere along the way, the Hursts gained a toe hole. Remember the Maine? Mr. Hurst had his own dirty little war.

How can one person shoulder the blame for something totally out of his control? Remember we inherit problems as well as make them. I am tired of fingerpointing and blame. That does not solve problems. If one idea does not work, try another. At least try something.

In June 2008, President Bush urged an end to the ban on offshore drilling; in July, he lifted that ban. Almost two years later to the day, we face a disaster. Do not say I told you so. Tell me how to fix it.

* * *

Hey, dude.

Later.

Sickness blues

Found out earlier the drug company holds my bosentan shipment hostage because the computer says I have no insurance.

Mind you, I called the insurance company twice before the web site said coverage ended. Both times the women assured me, no break in coverage, no change in coverage, no problem. A mere change in status from COBRA to disability insurance. An extention for another 11 months. Well apparently the change takes awhile to get from one computer to another. And even with all the precautions I took to make sure there would not be a problem, there was a problem.

I understand why the drug company would not want to ship a $6,000 medicine just on my say so that I do indeed have insurance. A doctor's visit likely was not paid for either.

I have enough bosentan for two more days. The insurance company rep said she would put a rush on the fix. We will see which one wins.

Time machine

The time draws near when the desk drawer needs a thorough cleanout. My computer sits atop this former library table. Pull the drawer out, press a button and the front of the drawer flattens. Inside the rather shallow drawer a place for an ink bottle and pencils or pens. And a mini-shelf.

My desk drawer serves as my catchall space. Open the drawer and you will find a prism in the shape of an octagon. It should hang in a window that gets sun and make rainbows. Kittens sent it packing to the drawer.

A tiny snowglobe sits in one corner of the drawer. A miniature Reno forever in a shower of mineral water and glitter.

An empty matchbook from the Holiday Inn in Strasbourg. No close cover before striking in French. Guess the French rule in the smart department.

A trio of former marine life -- a couple of The Littlest Mermaid shells and a counch which fits into my hand. The intricate swirls, the almost glass feel.

Two expired passports. Hard evidence of memories.

Some registration papers for Wu. Wu was a beautiful lilacpoint Siamese baby and an Okie. I drove to another state to get Wu.

Then in all its glory sits a pile of papers. Envelopes with addresses I mean to put in the computer. Sheets of paper with my Afrikaan lessons on them. They need a home in the computer as well. An extra copy of proof of automobile insurance.

Sitting to the right of the computer, a table holds a basket stuffed with file folders. I learned to keep documents, bills and written notes about phone calls. That practice served me well more than once.

* * *

I am not sure I get it. I am not business minded. Not everyone sports a cutthroat vibe, thank goodness. I try hard to do what I say I will because I know how I rely on the word of others. I do need to learn not to overdo. As much as I want to help, I should leave the things I know nothing of to someone who does. I always can offer an ear and honest feedback.

* * *

I wonder what you think of all this? As someone astutely pointed out to me, we cannot pretend to know. I can suppose based on the you I knew. I can compare notes with others and form a concensus. I would love to talk to the one person who knew you best. The enigma which surrounds you would clear up a bit, I think. I am not cheeky enough, though, to ask.

I do know I miss you terribly still. The loss weighs heavy on my heart.

Later.

Go ask Alice

One of my FB friends insists she needs to look like one of her cartoons. She oozes talent and brains. Fright wig red seems to lure many young folks. Just a generational thing, I think. Alice, here, represents one of my friend's tamer creations. Ah, youth.

* * *

Because of an insurance snafu, yesterday I paid full price for a couple of prescription refills. What costs $14 for the two with insurance costs $77 without. So I get to spend time on the phone this morning fixing this mess.

Competency of the masses declines. People no longer know how to make change. Forget spelling. I saw many a wedding form for the newspaper with atrocious spelling. By teachers! If our teachers cannot spell, we indeed face ruin.

I guess I join a chorus of distinguished naysayers. Did not the ancients lament the ways of youth?

* * *

I friended a young cystic on FB. He lives in the UK. His status updates frighten me. He smokes, he parties, he cannot blow. Duh. Denial. Dude. The teen angst combined with a demanding disease equals a recipe for disaster. I am not sure I can handle that. Even from afar and impersonal.

* * *

Sometimes I do not want to be my own advocate. I miss the help a partner extends. I crave something I will never have. I so know where you were coming from.

Later.