I do wish Blogger techs would quit messing with the format in the post writing area. Every time I log in lately, they've added something that is not only unnecessary, but just complicates the simple act of WRITING a post. Jeez!
Rainy day, which we needed; the pollen has already started turning everything green. I'm glad I got the Bradford Pear cut down; there's lots of those trees in this neighborhood, and I swear they smell like something has died and is rotting. A fog of that stink hangs in the air, and has made biking something to be endured. Maybe the rain will get most of the stinky blossoms off the trees.
My mother is still living with my sister, and seems to be stable. I talk with her every day or so, but as to be expected, things are starting to get dicey out there. At first, my sister and bro-in-law were managing -- but now that the lawnmowing season has started, bro-in-law has to work at that. My sister works part-time, and getting someone to sit with mother when they are gone is becoming a real issue. None of us can stay there 24/7, and that's another reason mother should have remained in the nursing home. Her presence at my sister's has disrupted their lives, and I wouldn't be surprised if my sister gets sick over the stress -- or it affects their marriage. Mother has always been extremely SELFISH, and in my opinion, since she has never prepared in any way to take care of herself financially, she could have simply asked to remain in the nursing home. She's on the best program for impoverished people, and it would all be paid for by government assistance. As it is now, someone is going to have to pay a sitter -- because mother cannot be left alone. She might get up and fall, or whatever.
Let's just say, I could see this coming way back weeks ago. Like watching a slow-motion train-wreck, and I am not going to be part of it. I'll visit, but I'm not sitting out there for hours, when mother could be in the nursing home and NOT need a sitter. I have my reasons, and anyone who has read this journal, knows those.
I'm trying to make a decision about whether I want to buy a lawnmower and try mowing myself. Or just hire it done. I'm getting estimates, and will compare those first. If I knew my knees would continue to improve, I'd just do it myself. I'm tempted, but if I invest in a mower, weed-eater, I'd be wasting money if my knees get worse.
Right now, I have good days and bad days with my knees. I don't bike every day, usually every other day; I can't tell any difference though, and don't think the biking is the problem. I'm fairly sure it started with walking the dogs on the pavement. As long as I wear shoes that are well-padded, my knees get better. I take the dogs to the park occasionally, and walk in the big grassy/wooded area, which is easier on my knees. IF I'm not fully recovered in four weeks, I'll go back to the orthopedic doc and have an MRI done.
Good news: I've learned I'll have COBRA medical coverage for another two years. That takes a load off my mind, since I was worried it would end next Fall. As long as I pay the premimum ($366.00) each month, I'll be eligible for it two more years. This covers drugs, hospital, doctors, vision and dental, the same coverage we had with DH's job.
I've been reading a lot lately, finished several good novels. TV is nothing but reruns, so it's nice to relax at night and read.
I'll end with another quote from "Party of One" about loners and friendship. The author says most loners only have ONE good true friend, and that's enough. I agree. Hords of so-called friends would demand waaaay too much of myself.
Here's the quote:
"She was not a loner. So could she be blamed for not always listening? For trying, sometimes, to escape? But she always came back although sometimes not right away. I made a good choice in her. Fine investment, as an investment, for loners, friendship always is. We are still friends. We have laughs... Even so, I do not seize the phone and call her, or anyone, when I feel miserable. This is one of those acid tests that separate the true loner from the person who is alone but would much rather not be: even in the gloomiest gloom, it is not my instinct to talk it over. Not that I am sufficiently brilliant as to console myself every time. It is more of a wallow. But instinct is instinct, and instinct will out."