Glade of Trill
Apr. 19th, 2023 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoI picked up Madame from her hair salon this morning. I know the area, and it wasn't that inconvenient, except that the parking lot next to the salon was full, as it almost always is, and I had to go park elsewhere. By the time I walked back over to the salon, Madame was just checking out. So I went and got the car again, thus paying 1.50 for the privilege of walking back and forth. Her hair looked nice, and she was greatly cheered by sprucing herself up. I originally thought maybe we could go to a place nearby, just for a change, but after considering the problems of getting her in and out, plus noise etc., we decided to head for the bookstore. It is a happy place, and very convenient. I cannot really fathom what's going on in her life right now. I suspect she gives some pretty inaccurate versions of things. I just hope her daughter knows what she's doing. Madame has reverted to the hope that they can find someone who will consent to live with her in return for low rent. I think this is a terrible idea. I suppose the good news is that it's hard to find such people. The bad news is that when you do find one, they are quite likely to be unreliable at best. At least she still enjoys having lunch with me.
If you're thinking "gee, perhaps this is a bit triggering for you" the answer would be "0h--ya THINK??". In a couple of days, it will be Dr. Nurse's wedding anniversary. That was also the last time my mother came to our house. I had kinda hoped she'd be staying in a hotel with an accessible bathroom. My house is not accessible at all, so it was a job to keep her safe. But she had a really good time seeing all the grandchildren. Those were happy memories, but they make me sad too. Nor do I enjoy watching my future rolling this way. Of course, you always hope that your own future will be different, but you can't know till it arrives.
Oh yeah, super gloomy thoughts. I want to wander off into a story, but I've lost the path. The Sparrowhawk went to the gym, and I failed utterly to go for a walk. It was dreary out and threatening rain. I sat around and leafed through a big illustrated book about horses, de-accessioned from the St. Francis Home for Boys School Library. Many of the pictures seem to have been taken in Australia, and that's probably where the St. Francis School for Boys was, too. I picture them sitting in the library on the thin green rind of the big orange desert, with nothing but ocean between themselves and Antarctica, dreaming about cowboys in America, or the white horses of the Camargue, or girls riding their Dartmoor ponies in dewy green England. Okay--I just learned from my unreliable friend the internet that there is indeed a St. Francis Home for Boys in Adelaide. It was founded to provide an education for Aboriginal boys, many of whom went on to remarkable achievement. But I don't care to know any more about it, because I'm sure there's a lot of horribleness after the topic paragraph. There's no escape even in pictures.
If you're thinking "gee, perhaps this is a bit triggering for you" the answer would be "0h--ya THINK??". In a couple of days, it will be Dr. Nurse's wedding anniversary. That was also the last time my mother came to our house. I had kinda hoped she'd be staying in a hotel with an accessible bathroom. My house is not accessible at all, so it was a job to keep her safe. But she had a really good time seeing all the grandchildren. Those were happy memories, but they make me sad too. Nor do I enjoy watching my future rolling this way. Of course, you always hope that your own future will be different, but you can't know till it arrives.
Oh yeah, super gloomy thoughts. I want to wander off into a story, but I've lost the path. The Sparrowhawk went to the gym, and I failed utterly to go for a walk. It was dreary out and threatening rain. I sat around and leafed through a big illustrated book about horses, de-accessioned from the St. Francis Home for Boys School Library. Many of the pictures seem to have been taken in Australia, and that's probably where the St. Francis School for Boys was, too. I picture them sitting in the library on the thin green rind of the big orange desert, with nothing but ocean between themselves and Antarctica, dreaming about cowboys in America, or the white horses of the Camargue, or girls riding their Dartmoor ponies in dewy green England. Okay--I just learned from my unreliable friend the internet that there is indeed a St. Francis Home for Boys in Adelaide. It was founded to provide an education for Aboriginal boys, many of whom went on to remarkable achievement. But I don't care to know any more about it, because I'm sure there's a lot of horribleness after the topic paragraph. There's no escape even in pictures.
fricken triggers
Date: 2023-04-20 07:48 am (UTC)but you keep on, doing the next thing, doing what you'll wish you had done.
did madame's cochlear implant ever get turned on? i may've missed that update.
we're all just walking each other home, aren't we?
no subject
Date: 2023-04-20 03:48 pm (UTC)