Out of focus
Our record setting heat spell is finally over, along with the hazy bad air quality conditions from wildfires ranging from Canada and Washington and here in Oregon.
I hope that 20 year old man (kid) is happy that he just fucked up his young life because of his hatred.
Mom's house hit the market mid week. Now we wait.
Been having a hard mom week, but better now. That, and Larry's decline...
Burger week in Portland ended yesterday. TJ and I had Nick's version for lunch yesterday.
Happy birthday, Tori
Your Mustang rides
It's interesting. Over the past year Clyde has taught MauMau that kitty interaction needn't be dire defensive/offensive hostility, the way it was with Mu Ch'i for all those years. In the above pics, they are maybe 18 inches apart; something that would absolutely never happen with Mau and Mooch. And, Clyde can romp about and lunge and retreat playfully for a little while before Mau screams and runs to her safe spot. They eat inches apart. She's now, for the first time ever, head butting against me. I never saw that this transformation was possible. It makes life much more pleasant for all of us.
I was eating wings yesterday afternoon while watching a Mariners game at home and bit down wrong and cracked off part of my front tooth. Good god. My smile will now be closed until something can be done about it.
I spoke to Larry on the phone last night. He has a friend with a medical card, and Thursday will be getting something to help with discomfort and appetite. He knows things are winding down. No illusions about it. Me? I keep thinking that things will improve with treatment and allow him several more years. This is not going to happen, as I realized last night with our parting words. We always say, talk to you soon, love you, bye. Last night he paused and said, I love you very much. I hung up the phone and sobbed. My sis called shortly after and we had a comforting conversation. She is well versed with impending loss and coming to terms with it, and the aftermath.
I picked up the guitar yesterday afternoon for the first time in over four months. I've got the bug to learn the Go Go's song, Our Lips Are Sealed. Learn it good and smooth and sweet, and play it for the boys and have them join in if we ever play music together again. It's been that four months long.
I keep thinking I am going to get better at life, but I never do.
I guess that's alright, in the end.
Street Fair, 2017
all the way down to Fremont
Sis and me, hee
Ear worm for days, now
With their Supemes cover of
You Keep Me Hangin' On
Was a staple for me and my friends, '67 & '68. So, you have to feed an ear worm, and YouTube to the rescue with the longer studio album version, plus a live shorter vid from 1968. :D
And, YouTube to the rescue again with a video of how to remove the turntable from an old Zenith am fm stereo, very similar to the one I'm getting soon of my mom's. The turntable needs servicing. It's very sluggish and needs encouragement to turn at all. I might be able to pull it off. The am/fm radio part of it works and sounds fabulous. I'm quite excited about it.
4th of July, 1983 (or '82?)
Larry Frogge, Phoenix, Arizona
July 3rd afternoon/evening
why I oughta...
Larry, still in Arizona
He had an uncomfortable lump in his left armpit, pressing against a nerve, now I don't remember when...last summer? Fall? Later? And eventually had it removed. Malignant. Stage 4? Time passes, courses of action discussed, and another grows in its place. No surgery, as he would in all likelihood lose the use of his left arm. Our monthly/bimonthly phone conversations increase to almost daily as he prepares for, and begins, radiation treatments. Aggressively. Too much. Knocks him on his ass. His housemate says she can't get him to eat or leave the bed, refuses to continue the treatments, can I help? He gets them to back off on intensity, and he continues, with better results, though still weak. Last week they start a drip of a newer and successful drug, not chemo, and continue radiation.
Roomie answers the phone for him last night, passes it to him. He's exhausted, weak, taking two oxys for pain instead of the usual one. He never takes stuff. I say please don't give up, keep striving for eventually feeling better. He just wants to get back to his old self, but figures he's most likely done. He'll keep going for treatments, keep trying to eat, just keep living for as long as he can.
Me? Just fucking distraught as all hell. What are ya gonna do.