I'm flyin' solo tonight, for the first time since Mary died on 19 March and what I thought was my disfunctional non-nuclear extended family slammed around me like BB's to a supermagnet.
I left daughter Karen at the airport about 8:30 PM after we'd joined Kevin for dinner at a pizza place near his house. He rode his bike so he could have a couple of beers with his pizza. I'm doin' OK tonight. Karen introduced me to a different acupuncture place today. I liked the place today MUCH better. The guy yesterday is a Dr. of something (probably O.M), has a bunch of creds and clients/patients/suckers I know from my neighborhood. But they did their puncturing in isolation (private room) with me flat on my back. Man, I hate that!
The community place that Karen discovered or knew about is in NE Mnpls about a block from the old Grain Belt Brewery, upstairs in a building built in the '20's and later renovated. Nordeast is an old neighborhood, originally populated mostly by immigrants from Eastern Europe. It's had its ups and downs but it has never gone into decay. At present it is trendy, has an active arts community. There are many bars and many churches. Crime is low and the gangs live and operate mostly elsewhere.
Regression setbacks are normal and to be expected in the grief process but I still found her answer satisfactory.
She recommended twice a week for a couple of weeks and then I might want to reduce frequency and see how that works for me. Oy kin do thet. I'm willing to give this a fair trial. It does seem to work for others. If it's placebo effect, I'll take it. Who knows, in a month I may be as tough as the redoubtable Hong Kong Phooey.
Now I'm wondering what to do with that black jug of fermented gawd-knows-whut that Karen left in my downstairs fridge.
The housekeeper Mary hired will be here tomorrow for a coupla hours on her biweekly visit. I want to retain her because Mary found her work quite satisfactory. When she's gone, I think I'll mosey up to Anoka to renew my carry permit at the sheriff's office. Thence to St. Paul to join shooting buds Todd 'n Laura for dinner.
The chemolawn guy rang my doorbell this morning. He started his usual sales pitch to sell me more than I want by asking about Mary. Without being unduly harsh, I told him somewhat tersely.
That shut him right up. He even teared up a bit and offered me a hug. People liked Mary.
He said he'd spread extra heavy on the fert and pre-emergent crabgrass stuff because there was an area in the front yard that could use some raking. There's a maple tree of amazing endurance, won't shed her leaves until there's snow on the ground.
I asked if he knew of a service that could take care of that for me. He didn't but he'd ask around.
A few minutes later, I was schlepping down the driveway en route for my 3 miles when I tumbled that my 3 miles is merely aerobic exercise that could be equally benefical and perhaps more productive if done with a rake. I purely hate raking leaves, always have, but I could spend my hour raking as well as walking. So I did. Karen came out and joined me, after her morning run. We got the job done in exactly an hour, my allocated time for aerobic exercise. Raking was somewhat more aerobic than my walks because Karen is an athlete, but I surived it and probably benefitted from the stretch.
Life lurches on.