Saturday, July 18, 2015

Leftovers & Lightening Bugs

Dear John,
This may be my last letter. It looks like the world is ending. The radar shows that the storms are past us, but the sun is setting and the sky is orange at one end and green at the other, and the light is this strange greenish-orange color. Jethro is sleeping from pure exhaustion after surviving all the storms today. And the basement continues to dry out - all those storm didn't bring much rain, thank goodness.
Today I paid for yesterday. It was a day for Fibro's Revenge. All I did was knit, sleep, and get the dishwasher unloaded. Tomorrow I hope to do even less. And maybe, by Monday, I'll be able to work without crashing again. This is irritating.
There are a couple of things I keep forgetting to tell you - it's Leftovers Day.  First, Abby's eyes have turned green. She's almost two years old, which is a bit old for that, but it's not unheard-of at that age. They're beautiful with her black coat. Now I call her my green-eyed lady.
Second, I flunked my mammogram. In all the years I've had them, I've only had two that I didn't have to do over again. So this is familiar territory. I go back next Thursday for a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound. The few folks that I've told about it are in panic mode, but I've done this so many times that I can't get worked up. I never did, actually, not even the first time. I'm dense and lumpy (no comments about my brain here), so what can I expect? I'll let you know it if's anything inconvenient or time-consuming.
Talking about leftovers reminds me how much it meant to me that you liked to eat them. My father didn't allow leftovers at the table, so Mama and I ate them for lunch. But you loved them and I appreciated that. So, thank you. You're so wonderfully practical and grounded - you felt like, if you liked them the first time, you'd love them the second. And there's no excuse for wasting perfectly good food. Remember, during the recession in the '80s and we'd both had our pay cut back, when I got ten meals out of that miserable-looking two-pound hen? My Mama taught me how to stretch food!
I wish I knew how to stretch energy, but fibro is in charge, as usual. It's dark outside now, except for the occasional lightening bug. Maybe the world isn't ending. When the apocalypse comes, I don't expect to see lightening bugs.
Love you forever,
Joan .

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