Month: December 2018

I told you many things had happened. After fighting pneumonia off and on for most of last year  my canoeing buddy Clark’s mother passed in September. My granddaughter Alex caught pneumonia in late October which drug on. She could no longer fight it off either. Though she was only nineteen her body had degenerated as much as Katherine’s ninety-two year old body. She is now gone too. My aunt Connie passed the next day. So there you go. I didn’t feel like writing.

 On another note, I got injected with Hep B vaccine today. A precaution. I start on my eight week regimen of Hep C killer next Monday. >(Note to Baby-boomers, get tested. We are all high risk.)< No alcohol for Terry during the holidays! Oh my. I can’t take my atorvistatin while I’m on the Hep C meds either, but I’ll be damned if I won’t eat Wolf’s barbecue if Paul insists on catering.

I have mentioned in the chapters of Harold’s Room that this is just such a burden! We don’t have to screw with a turkey, prep giblets for gravy, smash taters, or eat green bean casserole and Jello molds… Barbecued ribs, pulled pork, barbecued chicken, American and German potato salad, Wolf’s barbecue baked beans, German rye bread and dill pickle spears… Did I leave anything out? Oh! PIES! They bake pies, too. If you don’t feel like that’s festive enough I can whip you up some Stove Top Stuffing if need be. When you bake it, it’s pretty darned good. I can even throw some oysters in there if you like. I have some football to watch now. It’s Thursday night: Jaguars and Titans.

It is early December as you can obviously see from the post date, but yes, this is the first time I have written anything other than Tweets, Face Book posts, and thousands of texts. Many of those I likely should have used as inspiration for Harold’s Room posts, and I often chastise myself for not having done so. A lot has gone on, which I won’t go into now, nor will I use any of it as an explanation or excuse. I did not write. Period.

The cats have been bugging me all day, but have for now all disappeared, so I am watching squirrels and listening to Golden Earring’s Greatest Hits.

Harold has been in and out of his Fortress of Solitude since Halloween. He is in at the moment. The temperature has dropped into the twenties at night since Thanksgiving, the house is very dry, and I was concerned he might be getting dehydrated. He has drinking water available, other than those occasions when the cats drink his instead of theirs, but ninety-nine percent of the time he has water. He quit eating weeks ago to prep for hibernation mode, and he has been very lethargic even when he is out of the Fortress.

He lies there in front of the Fortress door listening to music and snoozing, but the humidity wafting out of the doorway from his dampened shredded paper bedding is not sufficient to keep him moisturized, so when I feel I need to, I toss his bedding, mist it, and stick him back in there. I did that yesterday afternoon and he has chosen to stay.

I spent the last several days jabbering and posting music, clever quotes and placards on Twitter instead of adding to this. I am now listening to The Wall in its entirety for the first time in years.

One forgets how extremely thought provoking it is when the songs are presented in sequence, rather than enjoyed and analyzed as solitary gems.

I’ve been thinking about a small Twitter dialogue project. I thought I might snatch and grab my Tweets, posts, and some of my Tweeps’ responses from a short period of time; possibly one morning sequence. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I am wishy-washy that way. I need to go put RuPaul the peacock back on top of the entertainment center and re-attach the left side of the garland. One of the cats had mishap around 1:30 AM, sending RuPaul head over heels taking half the garland with him, and jolting ma and myself out of our winter’s nap. Unfortunately for you, I shall return. The Wall should hold you while I’m gone.

(Of COURSE the pun was intended!)