There is life going on beyond the squall of
illness, but so much of it is difficult, I hate
to conjure it into words.
Big E is on disability. He injured his
knee at the beach with Little e, and has
been unable to walk for 10 days. His
recovery looks to be long, slow, and
dependant on time.
Our upstairs bathroom sink developed
first a clog, and then a broken pipe.
The plumber that was meant to come
yesterday did not, which means Big E
will limp up the stairs today to give
direction while I am meeting with G's
An underground nest of aggressive,
tiny yellowjackets lead to meeting
a lovely beekeeper, who came and
poisoned the nest for us (after both
G and I had been stung in consecutive
We roll with it all, like an egg on a
down hill slope.
The plumber coming today is our
favorite plumber, and he'll do a great job.
The beekeeper was wonderful,
and our connecting with him was pure
kismet; his daughter happened to be
walking by when Big E discovered the nest,
and said, "My Dad can take care of that."
And, poof! He did.
The hardest part of all of this is Big E's
knee. Tincture of Time is total crap.
The "watching paint dry" of care. There is
nothing to be done, nothing to be helped,
no plan, no expectation, nothing but waiting.