Yesterday it snowed and snowed and then it snowed some more. This morning all that snow was the perfect "packy" consistency so I bundled Lincoln up into warm clothes and wheeled him out through the dining room door into the courtyard. He snoozed while I made a snow person, a tilty, lumpy, big-nosed being with pebble teeth. He/she stands in front of the big windows that flank the door, easily seen from inside the cottage.
Read MoreI don’t know many people yet in our new town. A steady, nurturing stream of friends from home has wound its way to me, so I should not feel lonely. Our girls and their families live here; I see our grandkids almost every day. That feels so amazingly, incredibly good. Sometimes, I catch myself in the midst of laying yet another mile of Brio train track, or the 100th reading of The New Baby Calf, or remembering which voice to use for the packrat puppet…I catch myself thinking, “We’re here. We did it. This is real.”
Read MoreOne day, in the liquor store, I found myself juggling more bottles of wine than I could manage. A nice, youngish man came to my rescue. He swooped in and grabbed the bottle that threatened to wobble its way out of my left hand. However, the Parkie brain is a funny thing and often there is a disconnect between the intention and the message that miscreant neurons send to the rest of the body. It’s called dystonia and it is not cool.
Read MoreMy husband and I are in a relationship that has lasted over 40 years. I love him still. I believe he would say the same, if only he could.
We are not alone, however. We have company. We go one better than a triangle — we are a foursome. Sadly, there is nothing even remotely kinky about our living situation. We share our beds with his and hers neurodegenerative diseases. Parkinson’s Disease and Lewy-Body Dementia packed their suitcases full of misfolded proteins and dying brain cells and, without invitation, just moved in.
Read MoreI couldn't sleep last night ... too much sampling of the Hallowe'en treats and red wine to wash it down. Searching for something else, I found this from over a year ago. I found it comforting.
Summer, 2014:
We aren’t sleeping in the same bed tonight. I will move to the home-office, right next door and sleep on the futon. And perhaps, probably, we will not share a bed ever again.
Read MoreMy first book will be published in the fall of next year, just as I am turning 65. Milestones of a kind, I guess. The book is a picture book and its working title is In The Red Canoe. I am excited and look forward to seeing the illustrations. I think they are going to be beautiful. There is more to it, though, than finally, after rejection letter upon rejection letter, being able to say “my book”.
Read MoreI now own a lot less stuff. Even in my small, new living space there are empty drawers and unfilled shelves. I am proud of how effectively I down-sized. There is very little that I miss or regret but, if I had to do it all over again, I would not get rid of nearly so many books. I miss them, the physical presence of them, and the warmth they give a room. I miss standing at the bookshelf, side by side with a friend, talking about books, being able to pull one from the shelf and say, "You will love this! Please take it."
Read MoreOur house is for sale and we are moving to be near our children and grandchildren. I have just finished cleaning out the little building at the end of our driveway. It isn’t a garage but more of a shed or shop, complete with a workbench and an ancient wood-burning stove. It has been a catch-all for our active family’s outdoor stuff - gardening implements, sports equipment, woodworking tools, and camping gear, all in multiples, because my husband, Lincoln, never threw away anything. When a ski pole broke he kept its partner, “just in case”.
Read MoreMy husband has Lewy Body dementia. Probably. No one knows for sure but we are losing him, our daughters and I, we are losing him to a disease that erodes his reason, silences his voice, and plays havoc with his physical abilities.
There are not conclusive tests, except post-mortem, for the diseases that steal cognition. So we think that my father died of Alzheimer’s and we think my father-in-law did so, too.… good, smart, hardworking men whom we loved very much.
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