Shrooms

Thursday, Sheba and I went to Dr. Spencer. (Just writing “Dr.” makes me think of Dr. S. and how I never even think of her any more; I knew when I quit going the second time, it was over for good.)

I think that was my last appointment before the (barely) surgery. Now I just wait—and for a long time. I likely won’t have my operation until May or June. I am one of 178 patients waiting for Dr. Spencer’s surgical attention. I’ve been waiting for just thirteen weeks. Half of his patients get their surgery within thirty-four weeks, the rest wait for up to forty-nine weeks.

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It’s sunny and 10°. We went on the community dog walk this morning and the dump truck came by again. I had a very modest seizure and then a migraine—all because, it seems to me, of the damn truck. I just don’t get why a dump truck is triggering me.

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I can’t muster the energy to work on my ladies. They’ve stood idle in my studio for a year now. But the emerging plans with the arts council are likely to impose a project on me. The E.D. is keen for a project that will require I write a script for four performers.

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There’s been nothing going on in the lot next door but they’re going gangbusters down the street on the house going up there. I find it interesting to watch builders at work; I always have. I love watching people with skills I don’t have at work so I’m looking forward to the build getting underway. However, the quiet until then is heavenly.

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My lawn, now two months old is looking really healthy and strong. Meanwhile, in the backyard: Mushrooms. They’ve been coming up in my backyard for about three weeks. They don’t last long and once they’re gone another variety blooms. Here are just a few that have graced my yard:

Above and below: In the pathway between my outbuildings
there are scores of these little white ones coming up. 

These are each about 4" - 5" across.