Drawing a blank. It was an okay day. I was and am seriously sleep deprived. I can’t go on writing essays at midnight and getting up at 6 the next morning. Well, that only happens two days a week, and the rest of the time, I get up at 8 to feed the doggie.
I’m okay today. I did okay things. The sun was out, the air smelled really good. I was hungry at times, but I enjoyed chewing gum while driving all over the place seeing home care patients. Because I’m a per diem, they tend to throw me great distances. I don’t mind. I like to chew and drive. Yesterday, I chewed and recorded ideas for my essay and drove. You could hear me smacking my lips and chewing my gum while I talked. Spoken English, while endearing and mesmerizing, is not written English. I love them both. Natalie Goldberg is famous for a book called Writing Down the Bones. Check it out. She also wrote a book called Wild Mild, and it’s enough just to read the title. I have a wild mind, like everybody else. I like to let it rip and just unwind that thing sometimes when I write. It lets all kinds of things out, including the things I’ve been trying hard not to say. I am not going to edit or try to say much of anything, but rather give you a flow, a cup of my mind, served up with a dollop of potato chips in my p.j.’s. Yeah. So. I love one word utterances. Huh. Really. There. People in Maine love to say, “There!” I met a lady in an assisted living who was bedridden. She couldn’t get out of bed without getting so out of breath that she’d start gasping for air and couldn’t talk any more. She lay in bed with boxes of crackers, candy and the like in the bed with her. She told me that she’d worked hard all her life, doing for others, and I said, well, you have an illness that won’t let you out of bed, and everybody has to do for you, now. And she thought about that and pronounced, “Well, there!” and that was that. I used to want to be a “gypsy” fortune teller and card reader but the one time I did it, for some very indulgent, willing, and trusting people, I hated it and got a big knot in my stomach and came home beating myself up for doing such a bad job of it. I like the person I saw in the mirror today. We didn’t speak, for the record. We didn’t need to. I like to think she looks like my Grandmother, Angelina, but I don’t know. Seems to me, Angelina smiled more. She also made killer bread and transcendent pizza. She was the one person who’s eyes lit up with delight every time she saw me, even just around the house. She taught me the whole system with Jesus, the saints, and the angels, Mary and the rosary, and asking for things when you pray. She created fabulous malapropisms, like the “pasteur” of the church. She told us the word for “fork” in Italian was “forka.” One time she showed up in a dream wearing a tight-fitting dress and luscious red lipstick. I think she was trying to tell me to loosen up and enjoy. Go figure.