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The days have been busy, and we've been re-watching LotR at night, so I haven't caught up on my blogging. Yesterday, I spent most of the morning arranging to send flowers to my cousins. It was the day of my uncle's funeral, and I was too late to be able to send flowers to the funeral, but I hope that a personal gift will be easier for them to enjoy anyway. One always thinks that ordering things online will be an easy process, but it often turns out to be more complicated and aggravating than expected. In the afternoon, I had coffee with a poet from whom I had bought some books at a reading back in February. I wanted another copy of one of her books for my brother's child, and she offered to meet me rather than mailing it to me. We had a long and interesting conversation, and then she gave me a ride home so she could show me where an art reception that she's going to take part in will be. I actually know where it is already, but I wasn't going to argue. In the evening, we took the Christmas tree down. I always feel that a beautiful friend has left the house when the Christmas tree goes. I would have kept it longer, for it was still green and fresh, but I needed to take it down while I still had the Sparrowhawk there to help. Then we stayed up far too late watching "The Return of the King." Tron pulled the blanket over her head when it came to the part about Shelob at Cirith Ungol.
This morning, I made up my missed therapy appointment, stopped at the store to buy some things the Sparrowhawk had forgotten, came home and hastily packed an overnight bag. Then I drove the Sparrowhawk to Farmington where he will be living for a month at a medical facility while serving as a test subject in a drug trial for a potential Parkinson's drug. We stopped at the facility for him to get one more test they somehow overlooked although he's been there twice for testing. As he put it, he is now "Officially Certified Normal." I think he should have a lapel button with this qualification on it. I'll have a matching one with "My Therapist Says I'm a Saint." Which she has in fact said. It was a spontaneous exclamation that may not have been therapeutically appropriate, but I treasure it. It makes me laugh every time I think of it. We met the other test subject who is currently on site. He's had Parkinson's for 16 years and has been in six drug trials, so he really is a hero of the revolution.
We had dinner at a hotel restaurant at the hotel across the parking lot from ours. Now I'm here in a pretty nice room with nothing much to do, so I may as well blog for a change! Tron and the Lumberjack are still at our house, and will be there when I return tomorrow. They're probably enjoying having the run of the house, as the Lumberjack has been very considerately staying in the guest room to avoid infecting the Sparrowhawk. Now he can come upstairs and languish on the couch. Of course, he's also trying to avoid infecting Tron, because she has to take her comprehensive exams for her PhD on Monday. She's been sleeping in the other guest room. This is why it's lovely to have a fairly big house. Much more convenient for guests. Detroit freeways are from hell, but the traffic on the way here was pretty light, and it wasn't snowing--at least until supper time, when we came out of the restaurant to find a blizzard going on. People were out taking selfies in it. I hope it will be of short duration, and the roads will be clear tomorrow when I go home. Most Detroit highways have a name--the Lodge, the Chrysler, the John R--and this one is called the Walter Reuther. It hums and whistles past our hotel. I don't think I'd ever like to live in a place where I couldn't escape the sound of the freeway. On summer nights at home when our windows are open, I can sometimes hear 96 in the distance, but it's nothing like as loud as the Walter Reuther. However, I have been reading about Walter Reuther, and he was definitely a hero of the revolution. I'm glad the freeway inspired me to learn more about him. He put his money where his mouth was in a way that is seldom seen. I don't really want tomorrow ever to come, because I don't want to leave the Sparrowhawk here and go home. However, that is just the way it is.
This morning, I made up my missed therapy appointment, stopped at the store to buy some things the Sparrowhawk had forgotten, came home and hastily packed an overnight bag. Then I drove the Sparrowhawk to Farmington where he will be living for a month at a medical facility while serving as a test subject in a drug trial for a potential Parkinson's drug. We stopped at the facility for him to get one more test they somehow overlooked although he's been there twice for testing. As he put it, he is now "Officially Certified Normal." I think he should have a lapel button with this qualification on it. I'll have a matching one with "My Therapist Says I'm a Saint." Which she has in fact said. It was a spontaneous exclamation that may not have been therapeutically appropriate, but I treasure it. It makes me laugh every time I think of it. We met the other test subject who is currently on site. He's had Parkinson's for 16 years and has been in six drug trials, so he really is a hero of the revolution.
We had dinner at a hotel restaurant at the hotel across the parking lot from ours. Now I'm here in a pretty nice room with nothing much to do, so I may as well blog for a change! Tron and the Lumberjack are still at our house, and will be there when I return tomorrow. They're probably enjoying having the run of the house, as the Lumberjack has been very considerately staying in the guest room to avoid infecting the Sparrowhawk. Now he can come upstairs and languish on the couch. Of course, he's also trying to avoid infecting Tron, because she has to take her comprehensive exams for her PhD on Monday. She's been sleeping in the other guest room. This is why it's lovely to have a fairly big house. Much more convenient for guests. Detroit freeways are from hell, but the traffic on the way here was pretty light, and it wasn't snowing--at least until supper time, when we came out of the restaurant to find a blizzard going on. People were out taking selfies in it. I hope it will be of short duration, and the roads will be clear tomorrow when I go home. Most Detroit highways have a name--the Lodge, the Chrysler, the John R--and this one is called the Walter Reuther. It hums and whistles past our hotel. I don't think I'd ever like to live in a place where I couldn't escape the sound of the freeway. On summer nights at home when our windows are open, I can sometimes hear 96 in the distance, but it's nothing like as loud as the Walter Reuther. However, I have been reading about Walter Reuther, and he was definitely a hero of the revolution. I'm glad the freeway inspired me to learn more about him. He put his money where his mouth was in a way that is seldom seen. I don't really want tomorrow ever to come, because I don't want to leave the Sparrowhawk here and go home. However, that is just the way it is.
