Diamond Heights

The next time my wheelchair nicks the lid flap of an open carton...I will do exactly what I'm doing now...keep going. It's getting to me. Whatever 'it' is. My life is still in disarray. I can't find the book I purchased about how to grow tomatoes in San Francisco. I can't find anything...everything is lost. I am lost. Which is ever so slightly dramatic for a fine Sunday morning in this most beautiful city. I am alive, not lying dead in a Berkeley street. And let us say hallelujah. Jane's congregation Read more [...]

A Blustery Day

This is the age of discomfort. This is age period. The discomfort is bodily, although it feels situational. One must go down to the shops again. The morning has been full...waking too early and worrying about my van...then a visit from Perry, home physical therapist. Why worry about the van? Because in the midst of all this flux, worry is what's happening. The target doesn't matter. The background level of fear remains constant. I fear driving the van...and I fear not driving it and, as recently Read more [...]

Back in the Saddle

I am being difficult. That's because things are difficult. And I find it difficult to be otherwise. Take my recent 'van breakdown.' Nothing actually broke down, making a difficult situation, more difficult. The most difficult thing proved to be collecting the car from its repair site in Fremont. You will recall that this van has no driver's seat. So no one can drive it to me. And with my car currently in the repair garage, I have no van to drive. 'Can't you get here?' This from Access Options, Read more [...]