This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
I woke around three this morning , because the cat was making persistent scratching noises at the front door. I untangled myself from the bed linens, and let him out, leaving the front door opened slightly, so the Capt’an could let him self in when he was done whizzing, as my brothers used to call taking a pee outside in the dark cover of tall trees and ghostly bushes. It was four a.m. when he wanted back in and I walked through a path of crunchy old brown leaves and fresh spring green leaves to open the door wider and welcome him in, cursing his timing, “Damn it, Cap, make up yr mind.” My caboose was a forest just waiting to open. I mean it’s Spring, isn’t it? It rained so far into June I wasn’t sure it was ever going to be actual Spring, but here we are . I feel like I’m living inside a Russian novel, Only my head can understand everyone and they all can speak English. Messy, 1/2 finished cups of tea scattered from here to Moscow and leaves in front of every door to outside walking into the room for at least three feet mingled with tiny bits of paper from advertisements about school dances, boy scout picnics’ senior class photographs. How do these things happen? The winds of El Dorado swirling around my handicapped shoes which are masquerading as cowgirl boots with silver spurs on them My relatives had signed me up for Facebook and back then before the cancer, before the second fall where I developed a bone spur in my knee cap I gardened like crazy so I could can, dry and freeze like Little House on the Prairie, I put up the most beautiful pictures of the caboose inside and out, I don’t know if they are still there;I took myself off FB, but feel free to look at let ME know. I’d love to sweet-talk a photographer into printing out the pics so I could send them to a special friend Betsy and my mother who is actually speaking to me, but that’s another story and I must now at almost 3 a.m. put my hips into a special position so that I can sleep without screaming every few minutes ial or I am trusting all you wimmin and believing it’s a chronic disease that I can live
with. Oh Happy Birthday to ME!