Once I got her going...
...by pushing and pushing, but nothing unusual, she held up pretty well. We took in a short trip to Costco. Of her own accord she latched onto a shopping cart in the parking lot to wheel into the store. I usually take her firmly by her right arm and we walk at her pace wherever we're going until we get to the cart section at the store. I cautioned her, before she touched the handle of the cart, that it may be warm, she may want to wait until we reached the ones in the shade about half a Costco parking lot away.
    She verbally slapped me away. "I can get there on my own," she insisted, "I walk better when I push something."
    Exactly what I say to her every time we go some place through which she can negotiate from the business end of a cart.
    Something I haven't mentioned, before: Since it's been over two years since she's driven shopping carts, she is comically unaware of where the cart's hind wheels are going. She hangs herself up on shelving corners on the ends of aisles. I try to perform reconnaissance for her but that doesn't always work. She is so funny, affectionately amusing type of funny. On the one hand, she is super careful of other people in stores including, as you'll remember, helping our queue mates unload their carts. [Every time she does this, I have the urge to say, jokingly, "Take inventory before you leave the store, you gotta watch out for this woman!"]
    We ate a lunch of polish sausage and sauerkraut. She downed, gratefully, a full glass of that "light" lemonade that she likes.
    She announced matter-of-factly, on our way home at about 1430, that she was suddenly tired. We were going to go to Target for some cheap essentials but from the way she told me she was tired I knew it was time to take her home.
    I still had another two hours of shopping and business to do. When I returned she was still asleep but light enough so that the closing of the door awoke her. She's still up now, at 2034, watching Animal Planet, drinking coffee, pointing stuff out to me as I type on the computer behind her.
    I like it this way. It's been a long time.
    Much earlier today during breakfast, which occurred appropriately early for her, she asked me in dead seriousness, "What should we do about this place, here?"
    I sighed. I decided not to hide my weariness of the subject. I 'reminded' her [as, I don't think there is such as thing as 'reminding' her, anymore] that we beat that poor horse half to death yesterday afternoon. Before she had a chance to say that she didn't remember I said, "I know you don't remember, but I don't want to think about that today, it's not necessary. So, we're not going to talk about it."
    She could tell I had just about had it. She was gracious enough to back down but warned me that the subject would come up again. Of course it will. At a time when I have the energy to deal with it. Again.
    Tomorrow will be the heavy duty switch of cars from 0430 to, well, I'll probably get back by shuttle, at 1030. Then we'll pack up the essentials I didn't pack tonight or in the morning (the computer will go up before sunrise), the cats, the Mom, do a mini-close on the house (turn off water, water heater, boost a/c thermostat [we'll be back and forth for probably a week so I'm not turning off the power until sometime next week]) and head up the mountain. I don't expect to get in more than one blood glucose reading, maybe in the late morning, maybe at night. She'll get her medicine but flexibly, and, well, we're moving and if you know her you know that she will be excited; slow, due to being ancient, but excited. I'm expecting a good day.
    Later, probably much later.
- posted by gail rae @ 20:57   email...this post