Finesse, My Dear Girl, What You Need is Finesse

Last time we were at the hospital for x-rays, we met a woman there who took quite an obvious shine to Demetrios, and who wrote down our phone number  Two days ago, she rang, and Demetrios announced he was going to meet her at a coffee shop nearby.

"Am I invited?' I asked.

'Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you were to come along..."

"That's okay," I said.  "I wasn't invited, i won't come.  Just be aware it's not politics she's primarily interested in."

"You don't mean..."

"Yes, I do mean.  It's you and don't look so shocked."

"How do you know?"  He is so incredibly naive.

"A woman always knows these things.  And by the way, how would you feel if I had recently met a man who wanted to see me again, and I went out with him for coffee some evening?  It's just not really kosher, you see.  Inappropriate and all that."

"Come with me, then."

"No, thank you.  I don't fancy an hour of her company.  You go, and when you get home, tell me if I'm wrong."

"Okay, then.  What do you want to do about supper?"

"To have it with you, quite soon."

He was back in 45 minutes.

"She wanted to take me to meet a politician," he said.  "And we are invited to her house some time."

"We?"

"Well..."

I said nothing, only smiled and nodded.  She's a faster worker than I thought.  Other women who  have been attracted to my husband have had enough subtlety not to scare him off right away.

Catching Up

I've been neglecting my blog, not so much for lack of things to say as for not supposing them to be very interesting.  In a way, life has been pretty boring, with my broken foot limiting what I can do, but in some small ways, life is still full of interest, even though I spend it mostly in one small room.  There is still the life going on all around me.  I can hear Lorraine's broom as she sweeps the pavement outside her shop, and smell people's midday meals cooking all morning, and see the sky and the treetops and women on balconies hanging out their laundry.  There is a parade of street vendors, crying their wares, fruits and vegetables and flowers.  (This is something I never saw here in previous years, probably a sign of the hard times.)  We buy from them sometimes; it is the only remaining alternative to supporting the big, multinational grocery chains. There are buskers (street musicians) singing and playing accordion, usually.  There are the gypsies coming around to haul off your junk for repair and resale, or just for parts.  And there are the birds, come to eat the food we put out for them every day.  

Lately a pair of pigeons has found its way to our balcony.  They usually come when all the other birds have had their fill and gone elsewhere.  This morning they came right along with everybody else.  The doves sent out their champion against them, but the pigeons won the battle and a place at the table.  Now they are all eating together in peace.  We do not put out anything for the crows, but they, too, are very active in our vicinity.  

I do get out.  I go see Lorraine and chat with her for an hour here and there, in between customers.  She is fortunate enough to have a good number.  I noticed recently that she buys her things from - guess where? - those big, international grocery chains.  I go to the Drunken Duck now and then mainly to use their wi-fi and avoid using the cellular data card I pay for, and I drink a tall glass filled half-and-half with cherry juice and banana juice.  Yum!  Demetrios takes me out two or three evenings a week, to some coffee shop or cafe, usually by the sea.  Last night we went out with Leonidas and Ianna.  

Thursday we met with the friends for that theological discussion they began last year; more on that in another post.  I really prefer just being with our friends, because then we are doing the theology instead of discussing it.

My splint came off two weeks ago, and I graduated to using both feet, but still walking behind my rolling chair or else using crutches.  Yesterday I was able to shower standing up, for the first time in 8 weeks.  Sweet!  And I began walking unaided (except by Demetrios' arm) outside the house, although indoors, I still use the "walker" wherever it is not inconvenient.  But the nice thing is, I can abandon it briefly when it IS inconvenient.    Getting there!

Christos is still in very poor shape and the cause of it does not appear.  At one point it seemed to be hypoglycemia, but blood sugar tests show his sugar to be in fact a wee bit high.  He is up to a full dose now of his anti-depressant, and it does seem to have helped his sleep and his attitude some, but his overwhelming exhaustion continues unabated.  He does not walk more than 10-20 paces before sitting down.

So we still are not sure when we will be able to go to England.  Demetrios is not yet perfectly at ease on whether or  not Christos can survive on his own.  

Our Doings

The big news is, day before yesterday, my splint came off -YAY!  I am still not allowed to put much weight on the broken foot, as it is not yet entirely healed.  But I can use it for balance, can wear a shoe on it, can walk, on two feet, plus either crutches or my rolling potty chair.

I've taken the pillow off the top, upon which I used to rest the bad-side (left) knee, pushing myself around with the right leg.  Now I use it the same way one uses a walker (Zimmer frame, if you're in the UK).  I walk behind it and transport things on the flat lid  Crutches work well, too, now that I can use both feet, but do not leave your hands free for carrying anything.

The broken foot is now washed and scrubbed, shaved, dried, and moisturizied with creme.  Ahhh! 

Everything is easier.

Tuesday we celebrated Phideas' 23rd birthday (our nephew) by hosting him and Christos, his father, at the taverna across the street.  Phideas is taking night classes to finish up high school; this is a huge relief to Christos, who had been after his son night and day to do this.

Christos is also much relieved to be living here instead of Katerini.  He said he couldn't believe how bad it was for him there and that he would have just died if he had stayed there.   So Demetrios' insistence upon the move has paid off.  

He still looks terrible, all skin and bones, so small he has to wear boys' clothing.  Once he laid his head on the table and began making those horrid grunting sounds of his, but Demetrios and Phideas got him to stop that.  He says he doesn't know why he does it; it feels as though it were not himself, but someone else doing it.

All his physical tests have come back normal.  There is noting physical to account for his terrible fatigue.  Nor is it psychiatric, or his brother could help him.  Demetrios says it is a matter of solving his psychological and/or spiritual issues.  Well, with the move here, and Phideas back in school, and with much encouragement from Demetrios, some of those issues have been put to rest.  He now has hope that he may get better, and with great struggle, he does mostly maintain a positive attitude.  He gets out of the house almost every day and indulges in what he says is life's greatest joy:  sitting alone by the sea drinking coffee and smoking his pipe.

And here comes the corker:  now that Demetrios' two patients are both significantly better, we are free to make plans for England! we only have about two more weeks of perfect weather before the oppressive, sweltering summer closes down on us.

Miscellaneous Photos to Share With You

Scarf for my Friend Anastasia

 

Treetop View From my Bedroom (Sickroom) Window

 

Fractured English, Leaflet that Came With my Rolling Chair

Jackson With his Friend at the YMCA

Sydney During a Recent Facetime Chat with Her

Not Yet

The doctor had hoped we could remove my splint today, but no.  The break is at the bottom of the picture, at the base of my small toe and as anybody can see, it has some mending to do yet.  We are to go back in two weeks.

Meanwhile, Leonidas said my bandages were ugly, and I decided he was right.  So I knitted a big sock from a Christmas stocking pattern but custom-fitted, to cover the splint and bandages.  The sock keeps the splint clean and in place.  (Sleeping in bed was causing the bandages to slip and loosen.)

Meanwhile, Demetrios has been a saint, never once complaining of having to do the housework - and, I venture to say, getting quite a education from it.  I feel bad he has to do at least two more weeks of it, though.

I am more mobile than I used to be, on account of having learned quite well how to use my little rolling chair, and on account of hurting much less than I did at first.  

Does This Make me a Heretic?

Demetrios brought home some Greek yogurt.  Not the stuff labelled "Greek yogurt" in America, but the real deal, thick and creamy.  So far, so good.  Then he found by far the world's best honey.  The brand name is "God-Pleasing".  Oh, yes, any god or goddess would be out of his or her mind, I said, not to be pleased to death with this stuff!  (It is made mostly from thyme and pine pollens, says the label, with assorted other flowers.)  It has such an exquisite fragrance!  So then, per the Greek custom, we mixed the yogurt and the honey, and closing my eyes in rapture, I said - here it comes - I said:

"This
just
may
be
as good
as
chocolate!"

There, I've confessed it!  (Don't condemn me.)

Open Windows

Now is perfect weather:  bright and sunny, warm, slightly cool breeze but not cool enough to call for a sweater, azure sky, and long hours of daylight.  Now is the time we leave every window and door to the flat wide open.  I love it.

We live in close quarters here with our neighbors.  When the windows are open, we not only see, but hear everything:  the workman tapping with his hammer, the children at play, the clinking of cutlery as people eat their meals, arguments, conversations between people from balcony to balcony, cats yowling, dogs barking, cars passing, laundry (or our Greek flag) flapping, birds chirping.  I've become more than used to it; I have learned to love it and miss it when the windows are closed.  Why do I love it?  Because this way, we get a real sense of the whole neighborhood, and by extension the whole city and the whole world, living one, single, common life.  We are all a part of everything, all in it together (even the cats and birds), and together making up one breath-taking tapestry.

In some parts of the world, this sort of thing is a profound mystical insight, a debatable  philosophical proposition or a doctrine taught in books of theology; but here, it's just everyday experience, normal living, something so obvious as to be taken for granted.

To my Mini-iPad

How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways...

Thou art my word processor,
calculator,
spreadsheet manager,
world clock,
alarm clock,
camera,
videocamera,
reading library,
dictionary,
phone book,
address book,
encyclopedia,
knitting and crochet pattern book,
tutor on any subject,
newspaper,
television,
map,
GPS (sat nav),
blog,
filing cabinet,
face-to-face telephone,
travel agent,
cookbook,
calendar,
appointment book,
day planner,
shopping manager,
restaurant guide,
movie guide,
home theater,
messenger/post office,
home security system manager,
game box,

and infinite other things.  And thou art wireless and fittest into a side pocket of my handbag!

This and That

Wednesday 01 May

Today is moving day for Christos, my brother-in-law.  Two men and a truck have been hired.  Demetrios will help however he can, and Christos' friend from childhood, Chara, has volunteered to help, as well.  We hope Christos will be more nearly happy here in town, where his friends and family can see him more often, where he can live more cheaply, where his doctors are.  We hope this will help to lift his spirits.

The latest guess as to his diagnosis is Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, made significantly worse by depression.

I'm just over halfway through with The Brothers Karamazov, and so far, what has struck me most is one sentence:  "It only takes one day for a man to know all happiness."  !!!  All true happiness, of course, flows from one Source, one infinite Joy, and having encountered Him, you have encountered every real joy there is.  (And conversely, no matter hat your religion is, any time you encounter a deep, true, abiding Joy, you have one way or the other encountered the Source of it.)

In spite of the wag's remark about something being as depressing as a Russian novel, I discover that this novel is mostly about Joy.  But Dostoyevsky has to bring in great sorrow and suffering to illustrate his point:  that Joy shines through sorrow, shines on with or without sorrow, and conquers sorrow.  I have often emphasized authentic Christianity as the religion of Love, but yes, it is also the one and only religion of Joy.

I went to see Lorraine on Monday.  She's the En glishwoman who runs the Mini Market across the street from us.  It was my first solo outing.  I can get down the curb just fine, but still needed he help getting up the curb on the other side.

She has very little use for Greeks in general (except, presumably, the one to whom she is married) or anything Greek.  She doesn't like the way they tend to be quite familiar with you on first meeting.  I said, 'They want to be friends with you right away.'

'Yes, but that's a false friendship, isn't it?'

???  It is?  How could one tell?  Why should a quickly-formed friendship necessarily be false?  I have made intimate friends here in one evening, and the years have only added more proof to their true nature.

A customer came in while we were talking and, hearing us converse in English, joined the conversation  He had no use for Greeks, either, and was thoroughly disillusioned by he country to which he had fled, hoping to find freedom.  Of course there is no more freedom here, only the semblance of it; I understand that, but it doesn't mean the Greeks are bad people in general; it means they've been had.  I didn't say much, as neither of the others seemed ready to hear a different perspective.  Ali, who it turns out is Palestinian, ended up inviting Lorraine and me and our husbands to dinner; his wife would be very happy to cook for us.  I would take him up on it, too, but he lives on the 7th floor of a building without elevators.  I gazed down at my foot and said, 'Well...'

Lorraine has no use for Orthodoxy, either.  He first encounter with it was quite unfortunate.  It was at her wedding in a Greek Orthodox Church; the priest wouldn't let the bride and groom or any of the guests into the church until he had been paid, until he had 150 Euros in his hand.  I observed that this was not Orthodox, nor even Christian.  At our wedding, the priest never mentioned money  We slipped him a gift after the ceremony.

Lorraine is also incensed (pun?) by young children being "forced" to cross themselves and kiss icons, even when they are too young understand what they are doing.  I don't remember what I said in reply, if anything.  I suppose the real issue is whether these things ought ever to be done at all, by anybody; otherwise teaching the children to do them wouldn't be an issue.

Well, we may have some interesting conversations ahead of us - or not, if her mind is made up.

Anyway, I enjoyed the hour I spent with her and hope to repeat the visit soon.

Here's a moebius scarf I knitted.  The sparkles don't show...

Birthday

Demetrios bought me crutches, and I am practising with them.  In a way they are easier than the rolling chair, but in another way they aren't, perhaps because I am not yet adroit with them.

Friends who see me scoot around on my little rolling chair are appalled.  Ianna crosses herself.  Thomai wails, and when I told her of my plan to go across the street to visit Lorraine, the Englishwoman who owns the Mini-Mart, Thomai turned to Demetrios and said, "Don't encourage this in her; oh, please don't encourage it!" I feel very at ease getting around this way; it  apparently looks more dangerous than it is.  Katya and Tassos, who are Ianna's sister and brother-in-law, repeatedly begged Demetrios and me to get crutches and use them instead.  So, I have crutches.  They are an alternative, not a replacement.

Demetrios also sneaked out of the house for half an hour while I thought he was napping, and came back with this.

Then we went, by cab, to Aristotle Plaza, where I rolled into the nearest place to sit outdoors and have some refreshment and enjoy the view of the harbor and do some peolple-watching.  The place turned out to be Starbuck's.  So, the best spot (nearest the sea) on the main plaza of Thessaloniki is no longer Greek-owned.  A multinational corporation has it instead.  Signs of the times.

Anyway, we sat there an hour and a half enjoying the cool evening air and the surroundings.  As it was a wi-fi hotspot, I tried to Facetime my family, but was unable to reach anyone, much to my disappointment.  I forgot to take pictures while there, but as Demetrios seems eager for us to go back there from time to time, I'll have other chances.

Oh, and my other birthday present from Demetrios was a Greek SIM card, to provide Internet access from home, finally.

Best gift of all:  Facetime with some of my family!  They were able to reach me later.

To occupy my time, I'm reading The Brothers Karamazov.  I'm on that most famous chapter, that ferocious indictment, entitled,  "The Grand Inquisitor".  It's the one you study in high school and/or college if you don't read the rest of the book (and you don't).  I wonder how Catholics think and feel when they read it.  When that's finished, War and Peace waits me, already downloaded. (I keep thinking of an Englishman's wisecrack when he said something - I don't remember what - was 'more depressing than a Russian novel.' !!  So, as I do not need depressing just now, I have also downloaded some P.G. Wodehouse, one of my favorite humorists.

In the knitting department, I have been working on a design of my own and am using it in a scarf for my friend Anastasia.  Here is how it will look when blocked.

Feeling Blue

I'll tell you one thing this experience of being laid up is teaching me:  that I am a spoiled brat!  That has to be a good lenten lesson.  I've often said I love staying at home, being in my house.  I've told Demetrios, who gets cabin fever very easily, that if you give me a book, some sudoku puzzles, some knitting, and Internet access, I can be happy for days on end without setting foot outside.  I would do well in prison.  So here it is only two weeks and why am I in tears?

And it's not even as if I'd been exactly imprisoned, either.  We went to Mena's on Tuesday night. She is suffering much more than I, having been laid up since her hip replacement surgery a few days before Christmas.  She wasn't allowed out of her house for more then three months.  Now, yesterday, she has had a knee replacement and will be house-bound again for I know not how long.  Thursday we went to see Leonidas and Ianna.  Ianna is recovering from surgery to correct a slipped disk.  She was not only housebound, but confined to her bed, for weeks.  My dear neighbor Frances, in Richmond, is back in the hospital with multiple issues.  She has something called reversible posterior leukoencphalopathy, which according to Wikipedia is a swelling of the brain.  She has an infection I don't know where that the nurse said is "worse than MRCA" and is resistant to ALL antibiotics.  Her blood pressure fluctuates wildly.  She has a gallstone.  Her kidneys aren't functioning properly.  She is unresponsive.  Now Dickie, her husband, is also in the hospital, having had a stint put into one of his coronal arteries today.  Poor Christos, my brother-in-law, can hardly move, from fatigue.  (Physical strength, ti turns out, he does have, but he feels too tired to use it.).

Now I think of it, maybe it would be very strange if I weren't in tears!

Visitors

19 April, 2013

Spent the day the same way you did:  watching the Boston manhunt.  We now get the BBC, so I was able to follow it all in English.  So relieved it's over!  For most people.

20 April, 2013

Stelios and Anastasia came to visit us today.  They've been friends of Demetrios for decades, retired schoolteachers and near neighbors of ours - and more wonderful people you will never meet.

Here is Stelios with Demetrios.  That's Demetrios' new desk.

And here is Anastasia.  This angel brought us enough shrimp-and-macaroni casserole to make 5 meals plus a box full of chocolate-covered pretzels.  Cooking is very difficult for me, so this was a hugely welcome gift!

I'm hurting a lot again, because of having spent the whole morning trying to help Demetrios clean and tidy our apartment, in preparation for our guests.  Didn't do much; just washed the breakfast dishes, dusted a bit, took in some laundry from the line and folded it and put it away.  Tried to make my (separate) bed, but couldn't make it look decent.   That isn't a great morning's work but together with getting dressed, brushing my teeth, combing my hair, and putting on a dab of make-up, it was exhausting!  It's of course the moving around on my "scooter" that is so tiring.

Still Recovering Gradually

Monday,15 April

(Something familiar about that date .. oh, yes, it's tax day in the U.S.!)


Demetrios bought me a rolling potty chair, not to be used for that purpose.  The idea is to rest my knee on the seat (with the lid down!), hand onto the sides, and use the other foot, the non-broken one, to propel it as a scooter.  But it will also fit into the shower, making a place for me to sit while washing.  Or I can sit in it and be pushed, somewhat as in a wheelchair.  Notice, it also has a "compartment" underneath for me to put anything I need to take from room to room.  (All except my water glass...)



I have a lot of ugly bruises.

Recovering, Gradually

Tuesday, 16 April, 2013

News of the Boston Marathon bombings only reached us this morning, via the pharmacist.  As it is to much later here than there, the first news of it came after we were already in bed.  Well, what's to say?  These tragedies are going to continue and innocent people will suffer, but this is not a political blog (at least regarding American politics), so - no comment, only prayers.

I hurt a lot less today.  I've resumed some of my household tasks, no doubt to Demetrios' relief.  He has been wonderful through this.  My only problem is going to be convincing him to get my some crutches.  I CAN get out of this apartment on crutches and do it safely. "Take me to Mena's house," I said, "And I will use her crutches to demonstrate my proficiency with them!"   My chance will no doubt come soon.  So far, I keep busy reading, writing, knitting, watching the BBC, and doing my Greek lessons, but no way am I going to let a tiny break in a small bone keep me siting around in this wee flat for six straight weeks!

Dr. Theo's other and primary patient, Christos, says he has begun to drink more, is trying to eat more, and is taking his medications and dietary supplements.  He says he has stopped smoking, too, but by that he means he only takes a dozen or so puffs a day on his pipe (having no strength to puff more).

We have the results from the slew of tests he had, and so far, no physical thing appears that could account for his overwhelming weakness.  So as of today, he starts an anti-depressant, which we hope will lead to improvement.  It will take perhaps a month for the medicine to take full effect, so we wait to see.  It's only a guess, but it's the only guess.

He is also proceeding with some alacrity to move back to Thessaloniki.  He has the key to his flat and has lined up some men to do the work.  This alone, being back among people who care about him, should improve his spirits.

Thursday, 18 April, 2013

Thought you might like to see  a bit of the inside of a Greek hospital.  The first photo is the emergency room lobby.  You take a number from that tall, white box and wait to see your number flashing at a window.

And here, if it comes out, is a short video showing you the outpatient area.

Out total costs today (as I have no Greek health insurance):  8 Euros; 5 for the hospital, 3 to have more x-rays taken.  So, about $12 in all.                    
             
Oh, and the shots I take in the belly cost 6 Euros for 4 of them.  They're the same ones my neighbor Francis takes, in Richmond; she paid $96 for four of them.

The verdict today was:  no cast after all; the splint will do.  I must never put any weight on it.  On Holy Thursday, we are to take more x-rays to see if healing has begun.  If not (because of the crack being wide), surgery.  The surgery is tricky, because when you try to screw such a tiny bone together, the screw itself can split the bone.  Please pray for me; the very last thing I want is surgery in a Greek hospital!!!

Falling and Falling in Love With You

14 April, 2013

Today is our 22nd wedding anniversary; that is the good part.  The not-do-good part is that I took a spill.  We were on our way to church, walking.  I had on new shoes, wedgies with medium-high heels; that was my first mistake.  The sidewalks here are broken, rough, uneven.  Really they only suitable for flat, preferably sturdy shoes.  It began to rain, lightly.  So I made the second mistake of, well, looking where I was going.  Around here, you need to look where you ARE, not where you are going.  But eager to get out of the rain shower, I fixed my eyes on the church, half a block away, instead of on the sidewalk below me - and down I went.

I am a very lucky woman; I do not have osteoporosis and did not break a hip!

Two passers by stopped their car and sprang to our assistance, holding out their arms to me.  I just sat there crying like a silly goose.  "Get up," said Demetrios.

"No!  I'm not getting up!"  Some instinct, it seemed, was just telling me not to move.  But a moment later, common sense overruled that feeling.  I couldn't sit there on the sidewalk all day - in the rain, yet!  So I let them pull me up and thanked the women with all my heart.

"I've broken my foot," I told Demetrios.

"Where?"

I pointed to the general vicinity.

"Not likely," he said.  "That is a difficult spot to break."

I elected to continue to church, where I managed to do rather a lot of standing without great discomfort.  But you know how it is with fractures; they worsen over the first couple of hours.

On our way out of the church, suddenly somebody grabbed me, hard, from behind.  "Oh, excuse me, so sorry!" said someone over my shoulder.  A woman had stumbled on one of the stairs and had, as a reflex, grabbed onto me.  It somehow gave me inordinate joy to know she had been spared a worse fall than my own!

We limped slowly home, removed my hose, and had a look.

"Yes, it looks suspiciously like a fracture," said Doctor Theodoridis.  "The knee on the other leg is abraded, too."  It was also beginning to hurt a LOT.  I'm pretty bunged up all over; several places are quote sore.

I burst into tears again as Demetrios cleaned my knee and applied the band-aid - not from pain, but because I suddenly had a flashback; I was back in "Doctor Jones' Bleeding-sore and Band-aid Clinic", as our family bathroom became whenever Dad set up shop there after one of us children had scraped a knee or cut a finger.  (It had to be bleeding for you to qualify at this clinic.)

So off to a hospital in a cab, to add the experience of a Greek hospital to that of an English one; and even I could read the radiologist's diagnosis: a 'katagma, basis 5ou metatarsou.'  (Those ou endings make it the genitive case.)

Today, a splint.  Thursday, a cast, after the swelling has subsided.  Tonight, a good sleep with the help of Ambien, and tomorrow we shall figure out how I shall manage.

Day of the Wolves

When Spring is almost here but not quite, when you can go outdoors without your winter coat but you still need a jacket, when the sun shines bravely but giving weak warmth, when tiny, bright clouds like toy sailboats fly through the ocean overhead, I'm reminded of a special day when I was a toddler.

We lived In Ford Ord, which was near Monterey, California. Mom, in her pinafore, was hanging out laundry behind our quarters. I, in my pinafore, was sitting on a tricycle, watching.

(You do remember what a pinafore was, don't you?)

From over in some far hills was coming a sound like growling. Mom had already mentioned to me that wolves lived in those hills, so I asked her if that’s what the sounds were. “Oh, no,” she said. “Those are bulldozers.”

I decided, however, that it was definitely wolves growling. And this evidence of distant but real danger added a certain tang to the day I’ve never forgotten, that thrills me even now, on days like that one, like this one.

The Living and the Dead - and the Living

The living: Saturday night at a party, my daughter-in-law suffered a bad accident. Leaving the details and cutting to the chase, Katherine was sitting under a granite shelf when it fell. It came tumbling down, end over end, and the first end struck her hard in the head. She ducked, and the second end struck her hard in the neck.

Now Katherine was already in constant pain, day and night, from her neck. She has degenerative disk disease. She's still in her thirties, and this is an old persons' disease, in which the disks of the spine degenerate. So her already-damaged neck was the last place in the world she needed to be injured.

X-rays have revealed no fractures; that is the main thing. Her muscles, though, are all knotted up and traumatized, and she is in a great deal of pain.

I came down to North Carolina today to help her with the three children.

The dead: Tonight Demetrios called me to report that our dear friend Vada is dead, just a few weeks short of her 93rd birthday. Apparently she took a fall in her back yard yesterday afternoon, and died yesterday evening. It's ironic, because falling was something she always feared, and about which she was always extra careful. Her motto was, "Safety first."

She was definitely not a Christian, but in her own fashion, she did believe in God. She told me not long ago she had always tried to find God, and never had, but now she felt certain He had somehow found her. I think she knew Him in her spirit, although she could never reconcile Him with her cognitive thinking.

She has been a close friend of Demetrios' since the early 1970's. When Demetrios first came to America, it was Vada met him at the airport, drove him to his new home, lent him $200 until his first payday. When we became engaged, Vada and her husband were the very first people we told.

I need to be at my husband's side at her funeral. (I couldn't make her husband's funeral, due to family obligations.) AND I need to be by my daughter-in-law's side...

Advice gladly accepted. Prayers requested, for wisdom in this double emergency.

Anniversary

Yesterday was the second anniversary of the death of Barbara, my youngest sister.

Mom called, a bit teary, saying she just wanted to talk "with my remaining children."

I did alright during the day, but fared less well in my dreams last night. I was at some large family gathering and there, in the middle of everybody, towering over them, was my sister. (In real life, there are several members of our family she wouldn't "tower over"; she'd just be a couple of inches taller than they.) I exclaimed out loud, joyously, "There's Barbara!"

But I knew, before the words were out of my mouth, that she wasn't real, that it had to be some sort of illusion or delusion. I wasn't interested in investigating further; I didn't even go up to talk with "her".

May God keep you in His eternal memory, Barbara, and all of us with you, because that's the living Mind keeping us alive within Himself.

"Snow"

The weatherman says our chance of snow is only 30% Friday, much higher on Saturday, but the "main event" will be on Monday. I don't like the sound of that. I'm ready for it all to go away.

One nice thing about it is that the reflection from it really lights everything up. Our house is light and airy anyway; we've worked hard to make it so, even adding three windows and making liberal use of the color white inside. With the light reflecting off the snow, everything looks VERY white.

So today I was inspecting the image in the mirror. With glasses on. (And I am sorry to report that my mirror's strange ailment has not cleared up; it reflects a worse and worse image as time goes by.)

Time to color my hair again. Cover up the ugly, dark gray roots. Wait a second. What gray roots? I don't see many. Most of my hair looks blonde right down to the scalp. In fact, brighter than blonde. Well, that's weird. Oh, of course, it's the reflection from the snow.

Isn't it? Look again. Part the hair frantically with the fingers. Oh.my.goodness. How in the world???

Flashback: Grandmother A to Grandmother B: "So what color is your hair, really?"

Grandmother B to Grandmother A: "How the heck should I know? I've dyed it red about as long as I can remember!"

Never mind. The hair color will cover up the snow-white roots just as well as the gray, or even better.

My Current E-mail Address

Several people have said they couldn't get in touch with me, so my new e-mail address bears repeating:

anastasiatheo001 AT comcast DOT net

That's my first name, first 4 letters of my last name, zero zero one...