the final Friday

These days I seem to be dragging out longer and longer between posts, but then, I am dragging, although that is about to come to an end, thank goodness.  I am a hop, skip, and a jump from being back on the road again and exploring the heights and depths of Mississippi and beyond.  Since my Paddy's Day post full of green wishes, a lot of my view has looked like this:

  Although still doing great (and a great 30-day check-up yesterday that had me walking on air…almost…) I have spent a lot of time with this vantage point in the last two weeks.  Primarily, grading clinical comprehensive exams for graduate students which is tedious and time consuming.  Sitting at the desk puts pressure on the hip, and using my bed-desk I got for the knee is so much easier…and, I can ice at the same time.

After my early morning doctor visit, I stopped by the Lusa bakery to pick up some breakfast pastries--it seemed like a good day to celebrate!  A cherry turnover is a cherry turnover, although I will say this one was super flaky and the cherries were superb--not too sweet, and cherries rather than just cherry smash.  The cute little muffin in the brown paper wrapper is blueberry coffee cake, recommended by the bakery attendant.

She was so right.  I am not sure I have had anything quite so delectable in a while.  It was softer and more moist than your usual coffee cake, with a melt-in-your-mouth flavor and swirls of blueberry (sauce? preserves?) in tiny doses.  (Note: for me, a little bit of blueberry goes a long way, so this was perfect).  The whole thing was not too sweet, kind of like a muffin, only with a more moist and smooth texture.  It is a keeper and perfect with my pot of Earl Grey tea.

I sent Sis a message to update her on my check-up, and she sent back a message that Dad had been "on a roll" all morning.  He was insistent to put on his hat and boots and that he planned to go mow the grass.   The day before, he had Sis looking online to price chain saws as he decided he needed to go cut some firewood he had "stashed and curing" for my Bro.  It was in regard to raising children, but a wise person once said, "Pick your battles."  The same is true for a parent (or anyone for that matter) with dementia.  If Dad even remembered he was on his way to the barn to mow or use a chain saw--highly unlikely these days--he would not have the strength to get there, nor the strength to pick up a chain saw and start it--if he had one.  It's kind of like wearing your hat and boots in the house with your pajamas--what difference does it make?  Yes, that's right--None.  Fortunately for now, Dad is in pretty good humor most of the time, but the surest way to cross him is to tell him he "can't" do something.  It is a delicate balancing act, because no one wants to see him fall again, or injure himself in some way.  It is doubtful if he would come back as well as he has from the broken hip.  The best thing we have learned though is patience--if you wait only a few minutes, it will pass.

Meanwhile, Libby is espousing my sentiments exactly--get that light out of my eyes!  It rained and stormed last night, and I went to sleep with the sound of the rain hitting the little porch outside my window--a pleasant and soothing lullaby.  It is overcast, but pleasantly warm today.

Let's get those last two comps graded and move on to things that are more fun--like my new exercise regime the doc started me on yesterday.