The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

When I moved from the Gulf Coast to the Hill Country of Texas, I was greatly relieved to be rid of the threat of hurricanes and tropical storms. Now I find myself yearning for them because it’s one of the ways we get the big rains that fill creeks, rivers, lakes, and aquifers. I say this because it looks as though one might be heading our way coming out of Mexico of all places. Hurricane Polo.

Yesterday afternoon, as I was walking through the front room, I said, “I feel like a cup of coffee.” Then quick as a wink, I said, “But I look like a normal human being.” Then I laughed. Because some people might dispute the idea that I look like a normal human being, but mostly I laughed because I liked my own joke. And in your own house, it’s okay to laugh at your own jokes and the idea that you’re a cup of coffee. Although, truth be told, I laugh at them anywhere.

There was a roadrunner in my driveway as I arrived home yesterday. I took it as a good sign for no other reason than I like roadrunners, and I consider having one visit my home to be a good thing. It’s right up there with the foxes who come at night. And the tiny wren who sleeps in a nook on a cedar pole on my back porch. They’re little things and I’m accommodating them.

As anyone who reads this blog knows, I talk about what I’m doing and how I feel. On two occasions that sharing has proven beneficial. The first instance happened when I shared initial steps toward a possible surgery to repair my abdominal aortic aneurysm. A friend recommended a surgeon. That surgeon found I didn’t need the surgery at that time. So, I ended up with a more accomplished surgeon at a later date.

It rained last night, and now the morning air has a cool wet feel to it. More is promised today. I watched yesterday’s thunderstorms on radar. They were sparse, but I was pleased to see some of them lingering over the local river valleys, promising more water for the lakes downstream. Perhaps this is the start of the wet weather pattern promised by the super El Ninõ.

I always enjoy true love stories containing the phrase, he or she was married at the time. It’s mostly Hollywood star stories where I see this, but I suspect it’s more common than I think. And I’m not real sure I care. It just seems funny in an odd way and proves that love is a tricky devil. Because I’m fairly certain the relationship that proceeded the current true love story started out as a true love story as well. So, I’m not sure if the first relationship went wrong or the second one just felt like a better deal.

Yesterday was bulky trash day and I had a touch of bulky trash. So, out it went. I still have a lingering brush pile, but the thing about brush piles is that they decay. So, over time my brush pile will eventually become organic matter. It’s not the tidiest way to keep a yard but I don’t really consider my little plot of ground to be a yard in the traditional sense. Although, I have decided to buy a small mulcher to help keep the brush pile from growing.

It’s late in life to find my way west, but that’s what I’ve done. In the last six years, I’ve spent more time in West Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado than in the previous 74 years combined. I wonder sometimes how I missed it, but there’s no point spending too much time pondering why. It was just a thing that happened, in much the same way that I missed a lot of musicians I’ve come to enjoy late in life. Our paths just never crossed when I was young.