bkwurm1: (Default)
 So I feel kind of terrible right now.  My Step-Grandmother died last weekend.  We weren't that close since she moved from MN to ND (and later to SD) nearly 15 years ago and my Grandfather died probably ten years before that, but she was still part of the family and we all agree that Grampa lived and lived happily at least an extra ten years because of her (and her hobby farm but let's not get into semantics).

So back to feeling terrible.  It's not because she's dead so much as because after spending a week devoted to any number of details for the funeral which takes place in Aberdeen SD tomorrow (apparently I'm the go to Obit and program writer in the family, lol) and having planned on driving 5 hours with my 75 year old mother to SD today, I went and tripped over my own stupid feet just a hour before we were supposed to leave and twisted my ankle so badly that making it to the funeral was no longer an option.  It's not broken but it's swollen, stiff and painful and I have the crutches on standby.  But I've had weak ankles all my life and through my twenties I probably didn't get through a week without rolling my ankle, so I can deal with it. 

But here's the part that I feel terrible about.  My mother went BY HERSELF.  She used to make the trip regularly, but that was nearly ten years ago.  This last Monday she didn't think she could do it but suddenly this morning she was absolutely sure she could and there was no talking her out of it.  I could have lied and gotten her to instead stay home and take care of me because that was her one concern in leaving, but it honestly didn't occur to me to exaggerate.  I can't imagine even walking into the lobby of our hotel, but I can hobble between rooms at home.  

She promised to take it easy and take breaks as needed and she'll probably be fine though the rest of my family is going to kill me when they find out.  She's been on the road about two hours now and I want to call and check up on her but at the same time I'm afraid if I call her cell I'll run her off the road when she answers!  

Update:

Well she made it.  She sounds exhausted but was headed out to meet with the other side of Betty's (step-grandma) family.  So I'll try to not worry about her until Sunday when she's supposed to drive home.  On my end, those crutches are no longer on standby, but are what got me to the kitchen and back.  I think I'll skip dinner.  It's not worth the effort.  





Change

Apr. 25th, 2017 01:29 am
bkwurm1: (Default)
 Two years ago, I joined Dreamwidth.  And then I wandered away.  I'm back like so many others because of what is happening at Live Journal.

The creeping intrusions by the Russian ownership had been a concern even before this latest upset.  How can a site whose existence is built on individual expressionism think bans and censorship is ok?  

Thankfully, we have choices.  And I choose to start building a journal here.  

I've never been a faithful journal writer.  I find it much easier to post fiction than personal narrative but lately I've been finding expressing myself even in fiction difficult.  I want to make an effort to push my comfort zone in this autobiographical setting in the hopes that it might free me up in the fiction side.  

Yesterday I was out with my best friend of twenty years and she was teasing me about my driving like she often has.  She says I drive like an old lady.  I say she drives like a maniac.  We're both probably about half right.  One thing she said about my driving, though, stuck with me.

 She was giving me directions (or rather her phone was, but she was its spokesman).  At one point, she hurriedly told me to switch lanes and take the next exit.
 
I paused and asked her, "This exit?"  

She said, "Yes!"  

But it was too late.  I'd zipped past where I needed to go.  Honestly, I wasn't bugged.  I figured, rightly, that we could just loop back around at the next exit.  And we did.  But she shook her head at herself and apologized for not giving me enough notice ahead of time.  

"Of course we missed the exit," she said, her tone rueful, but with no blame.  "You always hesitate."    

There was no fault being placed.  No complaint being made.  Just a fact stated.  And it wasn't only a commentary about my driving.

 I hesitate.  Over everything.  

Often enough, life has given me another off ramp to circle back around and allow me to get to where I want to go, but too many times there is no going back.  And the chance is gone.  

I need to work on that.  We only get so many chances.   

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