Sick Bay Friday Round-Up

Swirl was bitten by a tick, God knows when, and now he has e-h-r-l-i-c-h-i-a. I had to have the vet spell it three times for me. She said he might have had it for a while but it was just this week that the pain made him hunch up and screech, this from a dog that never even barks. It was hideous to hear. But he is being dosed with big-time antibiotics and the prognosis is good. Still.

I’ve lived long enough to be a witness to utter moral decay. Republicans that continue to pimp for Donald Trump, who push the incredible lie that somehow Joe Biden stole the election, these are the poster boys for ethical rot, role models for all the guys who’ll learn to look blankly at the cops at the door denying anything’s wrong while a woman is nursing a black eye in the kitchen.

I wrote a piece about my underwear yesterday that made me laugh out loud. Not once, but every time I read a specific sentence. Loud laughing. It felt great. I didn’t hear a lot of loud laughing around me. My husband sometimes somewhat smiles when he reads what I think is a funny piece but usually the rest of the world barely blinks leading me to recognize again that humor is in one’s own weird little mind.

My beloved League of Progressive Seniors revealed the true gift of aging today. In a virtual meeting attended by 45 people during which every technical glitch in the Zoom catalog occurred, we were cool, calm, and collected. With aging comes poise, graceful and well-concealed panic when things go wrong, and quick, effortless sweeping up of of the broken bits of the plan. It was lovelier than if it had gone perfectly.

In a week, I am getting my hair cut and beginning my re-entry to civilization. It will have been a full year. It seems both shallow and preposterous to stake a resurrection of my strong self on getting a hair cut but this is my expectation. I have been hunkering down and biding my time and waiting out the bad times. Now there is what’s next. I hope.