Thursday, November 2, 2023


Last November, I quit the clinic board, and I made a $500 donation. Yesterday, almost a year late, I got a thank you letter proving I was right: Chairman Dyan knows nothing about fundraising. Imagine, a year of waiting to receive a note of thanks—unsigned, by the way. I’m so, so happy I left that group.

My friend David is coming for Christmas. All that remains to do, is to book all his tickets. I’m thrilled to know how great a Christmas holiday I’m going to have. Christmas has always been a bundle of mixed emotions. It was never a happy time for me. But not this year. I’m so, so excited.

Cataract surgery is happening on Nov. 21st. I was expecting it in February or March, so I’m excited that it’s happening so soon and that I may stop seeing double so often—and I’ll see blue properly again. Hooray! I’ve asked Kris if she’ll come with me, as I’m required to have a driver for the trip home.

When Daylight Saving Time ends, how I feel reminds me of how I felt when I was sent to my room. There’s loss, and for me, being sent to my room felt dark. It was jail. It’s going to be getting dark so early in the day. I hate that. But now I have David’s and Paula’s visit to look forward to, and when that is over it will be January and 2024. That’s when the extended nights, the cold and Winter precipitation becomes trying to endure. Thank God for books and fireplaces (not together). We change our clocks this Saturday night.

I wrote to my small dog walking group. I’ve asked them to share in the care of Sheba if I die, and to find her a permanent home. Finding her a path forward completes my will, if they say yes. Fifteen minutes after sending the group the email, Judith and her partner, Anthony, said yes.

Today’s dawned dark and wet. I’ll be on the chaise with a book much of the afternoon, but this morning, we’ll walk in a wet, wet forest and then I Zoom with my UK late-onset stutterers, all of whom have FND or Parkinson’s. It’ll be a slow day.

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