Purpose of This Blog

I've created this blog to inspire myself to continue to draw and write. Unlike Nora Ephron, I'm not writing about my neck getting old. I'd rather write about being alive.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012


Marcia, my sister, was off to line dancing this a.m., so I went to town before more rain fell.  Rain on the bottoms of my rubber crutch legs can end up in disaster as one fall could make this titanium hip pop out of place!  One of the visiting nurses told me horror stories which properly scared me--people cutting their toenails three months into healing and POP...out comes the hip.  A woman flouncing down on a low sofa and SPROING.  One nurse who came here to the house heaped tale upon tale, wagging a finger in my face.

Anyway, I was thinking today of two very good women who recently went through cancer treatment, and how I have no right to complain.  Noble thoughts last about one minute, then I'm off on my grouchy riff, but nevertheless...this is the life in comparison.  I just need to get used to my new life of spiced tea lattes at LaLaJava after a ride to the library where I nab some great books.  Once or twice a week, I pop into the second hand clothing shop, and the woman who runs it tells me I'm getting stronger.  She also gave me a dead cheap price on a brand new Coach bag.  Hey, I like this--attention!  Up at Wegman's supermarket, check-out folks tell me their own horror stories--broken ankles, broken foot.  For once, I'm not in a big rush to get out because I currently have no job, and this is my strange new social life.  I like talking to strangers, holding up the line, fumbling with keys and crutches and being brave.  I give the poor shoppers behind me a big smile with slightly trembling lips, the martyr. 

When I moved here three weeks ago, I left behind Hardwick, such a beautiful town in Western Ma. I moved back here to Northboro, which is closer to Boston and where my sister and I grew up. Of course I miss the Hardwick cows grazing on the hills, the smell of manure (yes, you really do develop a kind of enjoyment for that), those big old farmhouses that sprawl out in every direction back from the time when generations lived together.  But, I would be going mad there now in my current state.  I'm still in wonderment that any store I want is so close.  Despite our proximity to malls and box stores, there are blueberry bushes behind Marcia's house, and I went out and picked some the other night to eat on cereal.  Marcia hangs out her clothes in the summer, and they smell so fresh, even if there are those peaked shoulders from the clothespins.  After my nephew mowed the overgrown lawn the other day, this left the delicious smell of hay flowing through the open windows.  There are fields of wildflowers floating in the breeze behind the house, all the way down to the edge of the woods. There's so much you can name when you're home--black-eyed susans, Queen Anne's lace, red winged blackbirds, and wood turtles.  You don't feel that ease of familiarity in other parts of the world.

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