This summer has been ideal so far. We’ve had endless sunny days all in the mid-twenties and I’ve had a default destination for every walk: Bruce’s hospital. Yesterday’s agenda, when I met with Bruce, was the sleepover weekend.
I had the nicest lunch with Doug yesterday. He’s a gem. We had lunch at an Italian bistro, on the patio under an umbrella while five elegant gents talked and gesticulated in Italian punctuated with a lot of laughter. And then I had an “episode.”
A fellow walking behind us whistled. I turned to look and off I went. It was as weird as when I had one after I saw a man walking “too fast.” My brain freaks out over the oddest things. It was the second “episode” lately; they’ve been creeping back into my life. I thought I was done with them forever but now I’m thinking I may have flare ups of my symptoms now and then. Sigh.
It’s Friday and every Friday I worry a rejection will come from the Arts Club because in the corporate world you fire on a Friday. Otherwise I have no agenda today other than to add “feet” to my defiant dress base pieces to raise them an inch or two.
I’m halfway done with the shells on the pole. I’ll get more shells from the restaurant this weekend with which to finish it. Then I’ll add the buckles; they’re an important part of the armour. They indicate that these weird things are, in fact, to be (conceptually) worn.
And Bruce is on his feet. No more wheelchairs! His progress is amazing.