If you read my last blog, you may have guessed why I haven’t blogged on time. Yes, before we woke up on Tuesday, Gerald and I had caught the family flu. He dressed, however, although he reduced his level of activity. In fact, at the end of Tuesday, he said he had managed to do the most important two things he meant to do that day. He told me what they were, but I can’t remember since I heard them through the fog of spending the day sleeping in bed. I assumed food was no more appealing to him than me, but knew he could open a can of soup if his extra activity had created an appetite. Yet that evening when he carried down a small bowl of cream of chicken soup to the family room where I was semi-passed out in his recliner, I welcomed it and felt a little energy returning with the warmth of the broth. Enough energy I could get myself ready for bed and another ten hours of sleep.
On Wednesday although I was still less than energetic, I finally got around to finishing the holiday de-decorating that I had started on Monday. I had meant to phone a friend on Tuesday and see if we could meet for lunch before I shopped for groceries at the monthly senior citizens day. Of course, I hadn’t. With the prediction of wind and three to five inches of snow Wednesday night, I decided we really needed to stock some groceries since I had not shopped since before the holiday crowd had joined us. And we were almost out of gas. I decided to write some thank you notes and wait until late in the afternoon hoping my energy level would be up to grocery shopping.
Gerald must have sensed I was not looking forward to that trip to town, and he suggested he take me. He said if I’d make him a list, he would get a cart and help locate some of the needed items. With snow predictions, the parking lot and the store were filled to overflowing, and maneuvering the aisles was a challenge. Being a duel shopping team was a first for us, and the next day he was proudly telling his brother Garry the difference between cut green beans and sliced or French style beans. It just so happened when Gerald called him that Garry was in his local grocery with a list from Ginger’s aide and was trying to decide the difference.
After he put all the food stuff in the trunk, Gerald filled up gas tank where that lot too was crowded. He pulled into a slot that I’d have never dared try, and I stayed resting and warm. He carried in most of the groceries that night while I put out a bite for us to eat after I made sure freezer and fridge foods were put away. After supper I started unsacking and storing a few other staples. Today I have finally gotten most of those groceries put away.
I had received in Wednesday’s afternoon mail Daniel Coyle’s The Talent Code. I’d ordered it immediately after Gerry told us about it at the supper table on Saturday night. Although multiple sclerosis is only a footnote mention on a couple of pages and the book is about hotspots of talent (soccer, singing, softball) and what made those spots happen, any book that is about building myelin was a must-read for me. Despite still dragging a bit from the flu and being tired from the monthly grocery binge shopping, I started reading The Talent Code instead of blogging. I forced myself to go to bed much too long after midnight but was too mentally stimulated by the book to sleep.
Both of us checked outside when we got up during the night and saw the prediction of swirling wind-blown snow had come true. Gerald slept late for him, and we woke up together with the ground outside our windows covered with angelic beauty. As he does each morning, Gerald walked down our lane to get the paper. I put away a few more groceries while the coffee was making. After we breakfasted together over the paper, I went right back to Coyle’s absorbing book. Stopping for lunch preparation and that light meal, I kept reading until I finished at 3:00 that afternoon. Then I got out of my pajamas and dressed for the day.
Today I’ve been busy finishing reading a short manuscript that a sweet neighbor asked me to write a foreward to. I have never written a foreward to a book. I picked up five books lying around to get an idea of what a foreward is all about. None had a foreward. This writer is someone special that I watched grow up and who courted his girl (also someone special to us) while they fished at our pond. We watched them and their three daughters through the years, and we like it that some of them have also fished with boyfriends at our present lake. His brief life story to be published by a local publisher brought back so many memories. I decided to just do it my way and hope it works well for the book. The foreward is in a folder ready to hand to him despite the week’s sick days. So now I am blogging two days later than usual. And I am feeling good.
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