Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my birthday. I began the day with a nice breakfast made by my husband, and a beautiful gift of Indian pottery. Then I went to my driving test, and waiting in line in my car for an hour because something, I don't know what, happened. I thought I was driving well, but at an intersection a bunch of teenagers were on the median and crossing when she told me to make a left turn. I asked her if I should, because they were bouncing around and goofing, but she failed me right there and then because I didn't proceed quickly through the intersection. The high school was a quarter of a block away, and I know those kids like to tease drivers and walk against lights, so I was cautious. I guess the lesson is to plow through pedestrians. She made me another appointment, December 7, which seems ominous, as the Japanesse bombed Pearl Harbor that day, but anyway, these tests are so subjective. The testers were clearly having a bad day and backed up, and she dispensed with me quickly so she could move down the line. Amazingly, I wasn't too upset, I mean I could write a book about these testers, and I had one that was sadistic back a few years. This one was polite at least. Anyway, my husband and I went out for a nice lunch, I took a walk with a friend and instead of cappuchinos we had Lemon Drop cocktails, and then I played Scrabble with my husband and he won, but not by much, so that was fine. We're ordering dinner to be delivered, and we will watch a movie and it's all good. If you think I'm overly mellow, it just might be the Lemon Drop.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My cousin texted me that his mother, my aunt is dying. She was a firecracker, and political, the right wing kind. But she had a huge heart, and when my brother died, she called me in Texas and her conversation comforted me so much. Her son and I are close, and he and I have visited many times. He and his wife flew out to my younger daughter's and then younger son's weddings. He is an amazing man and that is partly his parents. His dad was my mother's favorite sibling, except for an older sister. My aunt has had a life of blessings and joys, and her joie de vivre animaated everyone around her. My cousin and I start talking and cannot stop. We laugh and tease and he is the best of my mother's huge family. Our politicas even align. I think he's ready to let her go, but that doesn't mean he won't be sad. He was a great son, and spent every Friday night at her house and took her out to dinner, then drove home many miles the next day. A devoted son. And she will live on in him, his three children and seven granddaughters.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Two neighborhood friends visited me this afternoon, bringing back the novel I'd lent them which I wrote and was published in 1993, a lifetime ago. I feel quite distant from who I was then, just having moved back to here and having suffered the death of both my parents in a 10 month period. That was a long time ago. It was good to see them again, and they brought their little dog with them. She was very well behaved. We talked about books and finally about my daughter's virtual service and my friend's wife's death. She has moved on and came with her new partner, and I am trying to do the same. Her new partner is delightful and gave me some recommendations of books by authors I'd never heard of, which is always a treat. There is sorrow, there is joy and both are so interlaced that they hold us up and keep us awake and in the present. I showed my friend my first edition of Gerald Manley Hopkins' poems. A few years ago we discovered that as children we had both memorized "Spring and Fall to a Young Child" and could still recite it from memory. We have a heart connection, my friend and I.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a sunny day, but the air is "unhealthy for sensitive groups", which undoubtedly includes my husband and I. Should we walk and breathe it in, or stay in and get fatter? That is a question. I believe I'm going with the bad air, as my friend and I will walk later today. In the meantime, I can clear out my car before I have my Tuesday driving test, wash the windows, and obcess about where the lights are and the defrost. It's the little things that trip you up. I will swivel my neck around to show I'm a watchful driver, and pray I don't drive over curbs or do a rolling stop at the stop signs. There are worse things I could do, as well, but hopefully won't. Basically, I have all the long weekend to worry about it. Luckily, I am reading a riveting legal thriller by Karin Slaughter, "The Good Daughter", which I found in a Little Library cabinet, and that's taking my mind off the DMV ordeal. I'm still managing to avoid organizing my photos, but I'm circling around the idea, have the plastic bins out and ready, and am visualizing two organized bookcases instead of a daunting array of falling appart photo albums. See? I'm trying to motivate myself. It usually works, but after a great deal of time goes by. Oh, right. That has already happened!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my husband's birthday. I made him his favorite breakfast, walked around his favorite reservoir with him and we are ordered a favorite meal to be delivered tonight. I grumble about him a lot, but after 47 years married, it's basically about his being a man and all the habits and behaviors of the species, and since I seem to be heterosexual up until now, that's what I'm attracted to. He has disappointed me, angered me, surprised me, amazed me and been my faithful companion for over 48 years. He protected me from my first husband, loved my children not immediately but fairly quickly, has never intentionally hurt me, stuck by whatever hairbrained scheme I was embarking on, taken care of the kids so I can write, visit friends, etc. We don't share interests except for a couple of big ones: faithfulness (we'd both been cheated on before), passion for art and travel, and the kids and grandkids. That's been more than enough. We analyze movies, he tells me the news in agonizing detail, I like to discuss Buddhism with him ( I mean lecture). I need a lot of space and am other oriented, he is an introvert who loves Suduku and puzzles, which I hate. I read, he doesn't. I loved him from the first time I saw him, and an old photo of him still tugs at my body as well his current state of advancing age. We shouldn't work, but we do. It's laughable, but I don't regret a thing, not even the habits he has that annoy me. He's my steady champion and admirer, and I am his.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm feeling secure as I just purchased books for my bedside supply. I read the reviews, and my choices look good on paper. I have a long weekend to get through at the end of which is my driving test, so I need fortifying. I was surprised yesterday when I realized that somehow I was spelling my youngest grandson's name incorrectly recently. I checked my birthday book. It was spelled correctly, but somehow I'd got into my noggin that it was a different spelling. Both spellings sound identical, and I realized the one his parents chose I do like better, but I have been spelling it the old fashioned way. Well, I'm nothing if not old fashioned, or rather, ancient. It made me feel feeble minded, and the tension of turning another year old in a few days has evidently scrambled my brains. I guess I've been in isolation too long, and nobody has seen me write his name. It was seeing his cubbie at preschool that made me realize my mistake. Oh, dear!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had written a letter to Moms Rising about childcare issues, and last night a person from the organization called from New York to ask me if I'd be willing to be put on their speaker list if somebody wanted to hear a personal point of view about child care. I remember many times when child care was critical for me with my kids and now I'm seeing how the more things change the more they stay the same, as my grown kids are struggling with the same issues I faced. Each of my four kids has one child, except for the youngest, who has two, and I am a witness to the costs, the fight to be put on a waiting list for a preschool, what to do when you lose your daycare and how much it stresses the parents. I feel I'm ready to talk about these stories now, as time and distance have given me a perspective I didn't have before. If it helps in the fight for daycare, paid leave and support for families, I'll do it.