A Letter to Harry

Dear Harry,

Happy Heavenly Birthday! Mr. Ginley is out taking a spin with with his brother, Michael, so I thought I'd take a moment to check in with you.

First and foremost, I want to say how happy I am that you and Ilene came together. In the beforetimes, I could never have imagined what a lifesaver she would become for me in these dark days. Naturally, you know how amazing she is, but I've been fortunate to experience it for myself. 

As for you, Mr. Shapiro, I know you're around. I feel it when I'm working on Wordle in the morning and suddenly the answer to the puzzle pops into my head. 

Your voice comes through loud and clear when I try to use a clever pun at work. I will ponder for about 30 seconds whether to leave it, sense your disapproval, and change it. I know you appreciated my cleverness, but not always in the line of duty. 

The other day, I told Ilene that I just knew you were rolling your eyes when I used the word "nomenclature" in a client meeting. You weren't big on 25-cent words. However, you did teach this pischer a bit of Yiddish now and again. In your honor, I'm including a pic of my coffee cup (below). 

I miss our group brainstorming sessions. I'm pretty sure you would not have been thrilled with the way AI has changed the creative landscape. Hopefully, the pendulum will swing back the other way. There's already a lot of talk of putting the human in AI. I think we should be putting the human back in human.

But I digress.

I hope you're doing well on the other side. Keep sharpening your word skills. Are there things in heaven that need named? (See what I did there?)

Someday, hopefully, we'll be able to brainstorm once more. 

Flower. Rain. Again.

Love,

Babs

Déjà Vu

I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach when his office told us we had to see the doctor in person to get the results of the most recent round of testing.

"We need to get you out of the house."

So, I had to hire the transport service, and off we went to the urologist's office in Fairview Hospital.

Despite the fact that it's located inside the hospital, and you'd think with all the high-tech whatnots modern hospitals brag about, his office would be ADA compliant. Nope. It's always a struggle wedging Mr. and his wheelchair into the small exam rooms. The only good thing was he didn't have to get up on the table this time. (Our last visit was not fun.)

The upshot is, the tube coming out from his right kidney (where the uber large stone was) is looking a little wonky, and the doctor isn't sure the fluid is draining properly. So Mr. has to go for a test where he's shot up with dye-colored fluid and they take pictures to see how the plumbing is (or isn't) working.

Based on the result of that test, he may need more surgery to clean out the pipe and get things moving again.

Needless to say, we were both pretty low when we came out of the doctor's office. 

I had taken the day off, so I took advantage of the opportunity to drop off more books at Lakewood Library. Then I headed to Heinen's, where I picked up a bag of Ruffles and a slab of tiramisu (aka "dinner.")

Yes, that's how we cope here at the Casa de Ginley, we eat our troubles away.

Otherwise, it was a pretty quiet week. More books have been boxed. We took another trip out last Sunday, and that went well, except for the gully-washer that hit right at the spot we stopped for lunch. We're hoping to venture out again today, weather permitting (or not). 

Thinking about y'all and imagining you living your best lives out there.

Don't let me down!

Boomer Angst

I've never liked it when people start labeling each other. On the other hand, I'm pretty proud of being a Boomer. 

With big sister, Denise, and unidentified nose picker.

My life began in analog and has become largely digital. From blurry baby pictures and television in black and white to crisp uber-pixelled photos and high-def TVs and computers. 

Ironically, my generation is saddled with the same stereotypes as we saddled our parents with. Although we took the internet from its infancy to adulthood, we are still depicted as bumbling idiots who can't use a cell phone or stream a video. 

Honestly, I think a lot of us just don't want to be bothered. After a lifetime of grinding for "the man," we just want to kick back and let our kids manage whatever new gewgaw tech BS comes down the pike. 

Meanwhile, youngsters look at our wrinkled faces dismissively, call us ma'am or sir, and pat us on the head.

I was in the park a few weeks ago, and a couple of 20-somethings were pushing ultra-caffeinated "energy drinks." They worked the picnic table next to mine, which was populated with 30-somethings who were clearly in their demographic. After pitching to them, the pair moved on with barely a sidelong glance in my direction.

Obviously, I was not the droid they were looking for. Perhaps if they'd been pitching Geritol...

But I digress.

I'm not sure where I'm headed with all of this. Maybe it's because as my life edges closer to the end and the beginning has become a distant memory, I'm seeing things a little differently. 

Inside, I feel like I'm 35. The mirror (and my achy-breaky body) disabuse me of this notion. I'm tired. I can't watch the news without a lump in my throat. Caring for Mr. Ginley post-stroke hurts my heart, not because he's a burden (as he says) but because I miss the beforetimes when he could read an entire book in a couple of days or stroll the park with me hand-in-hand. 

My pace has slowed to a crawl. I'm happy to watch other runners pass me by. Perhaps I'll just sit here on the bench and rest awhile.

And sip my Geritol.

Driving Mr. Ginley

Last weekend, Diane and John drove up, and with their help, we were able to maneuver Mr. Ginley into the car. After which, the pair of us took a drive through the Valley, then to McDonald's where we picked up lunch.

It was quite the adventure. Mr. made several calls from the car.

"Guess where I am?" he asked. He was giddy and excited to be out on the road.

"And you know what the best part is for you?" he inquired. "I can't see well enough to criticize your driving!"

Ah, there it is, the silver lining.

Getting out of the car proved easier than getting in. All in all, the experience was a success. Today, we'll see if the two of us can replicate the process. Mr. is lobbying to go to Culver's for cheeseburgers. Then maybe we can go sit in the park somewhere and partake.

A little taste of the beforetimes?

Otherwise, it's been a pretty quiet week. 

Mr. has been sorting through LOTS of books, and now there are about a dozen boxes sitting in our living room that need to be schlepped out.

Good thing it's a three day weekend!

P.S. Mr. wanted me to mention that today is our 14,000th day of marriage. What is the appropriate gift for such a milestone? Cheeseburgers for lunch, you say?