Sweetie keeps asking me what I want. Unfortunately, what I most want, only one person can give me. (her friendship once again—and I doubt she ever will) I can’t think of any thing I want. I’ve a couple wishes for the world and our country, though.
My lady Steph is mildly numb. Two & a half years ago her mom passed. Six months ago, her dad did the same. Neither was at all tragic—mum, a go-go-do and do more person, had a stroke over 3 years ago, and after a time realized she’d never be able to live on her own, and willed herself gone. Dad had been in a Memory Care facility since before mum’s stroke, so he really wasn’t there.
But. This past Saturday she got a call from a police officer in Salem (OR)—they’d been called to do a welfare check on Steph’s brother and found him gone, evidently in process of donning a pair of sweat pants. She’s on her way to Salem as I type this—and I’m under severely strong orders to remain well, not get injured and especially stay alive. She has no family closer than an uncle or two now—except of course that paper or no paper, we are one another’s family.
Sparky, I know from past experience it’s a one-day-at-a-time thing. Keep on keepin’ on, OK?
Being in the Seattle area, I don’t notice them unless 5.0 or greater, and the most recent ‘noticeable’ one I slept through—in my waterbed. The one on April 29, 1965, I noticed. Though, at first I thought it was a very low-flying Boeing jetliner, as my location at the time was very close to Boeing Field. We got quite a few rumbles—but none of the others made the power and telephone poles outside dance. That one was 6.7.
There’s another one under his left eye. Somehow, I don’t think his mouth is that far off-center. His mind, maybe.