One of the reasons we have pets is that they're funny. Yesterday, we were having coffee in the living room when we look over and Gus is perched on the edge of the couch. Like a person. He looked a bit nonplussed that we laughed at him. (I always wanted to use that word in a sentence. Nonplussed: surprised and confused so much that they are unsure how to react.)
I think I just saw blue sky and a few snow flakes. That would be a welcome relief from the constant gray we have had. You can hardly tell the difference between day and night. It just gets darker gray.
I just put these words into google because I do that sometimes to find a good image for something I intend to write. I thought I would find...well, you know. A spectre. I swear to God, the first row contained an image of the impending president, agent orange. What kind of algorithm caused that hilarity? (Damn this center alignment.)
I have my six-month oncology check-up this afternoon. I don't get as nervous about them as I used to because they're nice people at the clinic, everything has been fine, so far, and I forget to be nervous until the day. But, there is always the looming spectre. The reminders of people who have been confident and then got caught in the snare. There is the looming spectre. My friend, Mary, whose little yellow bird sits in my kitchen window. Mary was going along just fine until her PET scan lit up like a Christmas tree. Her words. Mary died last week. That shit doesn't go away.
It's cold and windy and gray, but I am putting on my armor and going out into the world. The grocery store on Senior Day and the Oncology Center. What better ways to exercise bravery, my friends.
P.S. Hello to my friend Karen in NJ. Sending love and hugs and sunshine (if we had any to spare!) and light.