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Really, a blog (or a journal) should be updated in a quotidian way. I sometimes feel like people are looking here for me and I'm missing. I read other people's journals and the ones that update faithfully, well, it's hard to miss what's going on with them even if they don't say it. [I missed that a blogger I regularly read had split with her husband somehow. Hmmm. Well, we've no such news here you'll be glad to know.] And, of course, without a record I lose track of myself, disappearing as in the above (aren't you sick of them?) reflection picture.

So, I woke up this morning having dreamed of bacon the size of bath towels and wondering about the pig. The thing about dreams is you can't make that stuff up! What's more I think I dreamed of giant bacon before. I was thinking it was Thursday, too, instead of Tuesday. I'm mixed up and confused.

Yeah, we've watched stocks plummet the last few days. Worldwide financial news is so bleak it makes our losses look minuscule. We have started looking at stores, restaurants, banks, building projects and businesses and wondering which ones will go feet up first. I feel like I should be like Warren Buffet, cash rich and bargain hunting. But, yeah, not.

I am still cataloging things. I'm still not doing any real projects. A short story I had in my head that evolved into a novel started merging with another novel. I think this is fine as long as they just stay in my head, don't you?

I've been looking all over for a little book I bought in Paris, A to Z of French Food. I'm not sure why I'm looking for it. I just saw it in my catalog of books and wondered where it was. I had a box of books at Dad's labeled Paris/France but it was not in there. I went out there and looked through it today. I did decide to bring a few books and maps from that box to the condo (although they are still in my car) because I'm noodling about planning a trip. Only maybe a trip to somewhere in the U.S. where we can stay with friends is a better idea.

Yeah, my mind is all over the place. I got a call from my dad's doctor, too. He didn't get the chest xray we had done, he did get the ultra sound of his leg (no clots, the technician had already proclaimed) and he got the blood test for peptides. It is high. Maybe. There is normal and then there is 'adjusted for age' normal. But the GP thinks a trip to the cardiologist for an echo cardiogram is in order because high BNP might mean CHF. (Congestive Heart Failure.) Only one wonders how one treats a 92-year-old man for CHF. Or anything else for that matter. Drugs, I suppose?

We went to a party tonight for people who had donated to Hospice Austin. In spite of the financial meltdown, people were cheerful. Compared to death, yeah, not so bad. Some were sneaking out to hear the debates. I'm sorry, what?

Oh, well. I'm here. Nothing new, really. We are not trying to slip anything by you at Visible Woman.
Posted by Linda Ball at 5:32 PM Labels: Dad, finances, medicine, reflections, shop windows



