Thursday, October 29, 2015

Finding People

When you get to be my age (VERY OLD) you tend to lose friends, family, people in general. The only people you see or talk to are your doctor, well, doctors now, they're all specialists, your dentist, the people you make appointments to see, your hairdresser (or barber), the people who come to clean your apartment, but not very many others. Old people become invisible to others on the street, particularly ones with my problem... I use a walker, so I guess younger people think I am beyond bothering with. I even notice that the little girl who is our building's 'program director' tends to talk to me the way one talks to a three year old... I'm THAT old. Unfortunately, I cannot put a sign around my neck, explaining that I am a 40 year old living in a 90 year old body. I can still understand a lot more of the English language that most people. I can still read... and write, using my computers, and carry on an intelligent conversation... well, that is, if I can find an intelligent person out there. They seem to have become one of the lost races on this earth. All but about two or three of my old friends are either dead, have moved in with their children back East, have just about lost it to some form of Alzheimer's or taken to their beds for good, something that doesn't interest me at the moment. 

So, I must begin a search... a search for younger friends obviously. I'm almost there. I joined my local 'Nextdoor.com' ... a lovely way to meet neighbors. I put two comments in... first one mentioned that I was a old woman who needed help with my new Macbook Pro, and getting a website started to put my podcast online, and made friends with a darling girl named Allie, who turned out to be a knitter and craftsperson like me... we had a lot in common to start with, and have discovered more as she helped me... I'm learning!! Then I commented on another note... and had several people get in touch with me... had a wonderful time last night... on of the young men and his girlfriend came over, bringing me dinner and stayed to talk... much fun. They promised to come back and bring yet another young man with to interview me. Plus... heard from some other charming girls... one coming for tea on Sunday, an older woman who invited me to come and see her California plant garden, and a dear girl with a baby who is coming to see me after her mother's visit. I do have neighbors... and looks like we will get to know each other. Perhaps I shall even get my Sunday in the Garden conversation meting I had thought about started. This is a great neighborhood... I do hope we all get together to talk. Now all I have to do is find wher the gals hid my Red Rose Tea. We were stuck having white tea last night, as it was all I could find. I love the idea of having neighbors again!

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Talking to Myself Once More

Well, since no one ever reads this, I guess it is simply me talking to myself... so me, how's the neck? Don't ask! Why do I continue to exist in this terrible shape? I suppose because I don't think I could haul myself up over the edges of the GG bridge... and besides, I hate being under water... just brings back the remembrance of the horrible waters of Lake Minnetonka where I almost drowned the one summer we went there instead of up to the cottage, where we had beautiful Lake Huron, clear and clean and lovely. Few lttle stones as you walked into the lake, but then back to the singing sands of Michigan underfoot. On shore, hot sand to sink into as you ran to keep the feet above the broiling hot sand, heated up by the hot, hot sun, so it was either run up to the right and into the shade of the birch, beech and fir trees that grew there, or into the water and run on the tiny stones. Always running down to the public beach, as the lake behind our cottage was shallow and a long way to fight through the leg length water to a place where one could swim. At least at the public beach one could get in, walk a short distance and swim... swim around the big round logs of the pier, in and out, out to the last ones, where it became over the head finally.

How I miss the cottage... and all the relatives. Useless and alone in California... well, my dear son always says, "You're the one who wanted to live in California. Yep... it's always my fault... everything... forever. Well Mark et al, California has been good for and to me. Look... I'm living forever... I have help with my housework... I have a selfish roommate named Sylvia, who is now telling me to get the hell in there and clean out her litter box... must go.......... bye me, bye!