1. Ming finally passed his driving test!
2. Someone wants to buy our old car for more than the price we wanted!
3. I got my new bike!
4. A blog friend is sending me a gift!
5. Ming and I saw Anthony this morning (after two days of not seeing him) and he didn’t get all down in the dumps when we had to go!
Details to be blogged soon – I am too busy grinning!
Oh yes, and Gutsy9 (baby peacock, for those who don’t know) is thriving!
It is nearly 1.30 in the afternoon and I haven’t yet rung Anthony. This is very unusual.
Usually, I ring him multiple times per day beginning with the morning phonecalls. When I say multiple times, I mean multiple attempts. The big, easy-to-use mobile we got Ants goes to message bank after exactly 13 rings, so my system is to let it ring 12 times, hang up, and do the same thing a couple more times. I usually get him on the third try.
But, even when he answers the phone, he often can’t hear me because he is forgetting how to hold the phone to his ear, so I have to yell my side of the conversation. And sometimes, he starts pressing numbers on his phone and unintentionally cuts me off, so I have to begin the whole ritual again. I often have to ring the nurses to help Anthony answer his own phone.
I do this phonecall thing in the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening regardless of whether I am visiting him or not (an average of every second to third day now).
When it works, our morning conversations are light-hearted (Ants is lucid), our afternoon conversations are mournfully hopeful (he is sad and wants to come home), and our evening conversatioms are bizarre (he is confused).
It is nearly 1.30 in the afternoon and I haven’t yet rung Anthony. I will wait, with my hand poised near the phone, with his number carved into my brain, with my heart splintering, until 4pm.
Why?
Because otherwise I will go stark, raving mad.
This is a very heavy love.
Yesterday afternoon, around 12 of our friends and relatives arrived here at 5pmish to see Anthony. I had ordered the wheelchair taxi to pick him up at 4.30 from the nursing lodge so, by 5.30, I was wondering why he hadn’t arrived.
Long story short (after I made numerous phone-calls) it turned out that the taxi had arrived early and didn’t wait so, by the time a nurse had Ants outside in a wheelchair, it was too late.
When I got to speak to Ants on the phone (6pm), there was a bit of a party happening here but with the star missing. The disappointment in his voice was devastating for me because I had organized it all for him and the stupid mis-timing of the taxi wrecked it.
I was supposed to leave for my little holiday this morning, but have decided to go this evening instead because I must see Ants first.
When I first began blogging, I had no idea that I would begin to care about people who I may never meet face to face.
As a newbie to the world of birds, I was drawn to blogs about birds, then drawn to blogs about photography.
As a carer for a husband with Parkinson’s Disease, I was drawn to blogs about PD, nursing homes, other people’s experiences of other illnesses.
As the mother of a teenage son, I was drawn to blogs about parenting, children and Erma Bombecky humour.
As a writer, I was drawn to blogs written by an array of different people – all ages, all styles, all genres, all fantastic.
As a woman battling grief, I was drawn to blogs about grief and blogs about inspiration – a good mix.
Tonight, I am drawn into the blog of a woman who has become my friend. Her daughter died today after a gruelling battle with disease.
I care about you.
This morning Ming had to put our beautiful Malay rooster out of its misery because it had been injured by one of our dogs who somehow got to him despite pen arrangements.
Malay was one of the chicks that hatched here under a shed and grew up to be majestic, proud and confident. He was able to fly up into a tree if he sensed danger. He must have been taken by surprise and I feel a sense of devastation and guilt.
Blaze (miniature dachschund) and Jack (Irish terrier) have never attempted to kill any of the peafowl or guinnea fowl, or even the geese. They go for the chooks, so I have decided that it is too risky to have chooks anymore. The wild foxes get them too despite all my protective methods (fox lights, sturdy yards etc.)
I am learning a lot about loss lately.
http://www.mamamia.com.au/social/i-am-a-murderer-but-i-do-it-for-love/
I cannot stand the media’s insatiable hunger for grief.
Misinformation and appalling inaccuracies are rife in the ruthless hunt for drama.
Tears are vultured into the camera and disseminated via a thousand sites.
This ghoulish gobbling of grief makes me sick, but I still watch and wait and wonder.
These two guys have a lot in common.
They both like to show off.
They both like to dance on the roof.
They are both gorgeous.
However, the second prince, despite all appearances to the contrary, is much more interesting!
Conversation between Ming and me this afternoon:
Me [timid]: If you could just stop being so angry – please! I think we need to go back for counselling.
Ming [sarcastic]: Oh, of course, counselling because I am a psycho and I need help.
Me: Everything seemed okay until a couple of days ago and now you’re angry again – I can’t stand it and I want it to stop.
Ming: But I am angry. I AM ANGRY!
Me: So what do I do?
Ming: LET ME BE ANGRY!
Okay.
That angry angel has a good point!
jmgoyder 
Negative comments
by jmgoyderIn over a year, and hundreds of posts, I have been fortunate not to have received any negative comments on the blog. Until today.
The negative comment was uttered in response to my post about ‘doing the right thing’ yesterday.
It was personal, exclamatory and gave me a bit of a shock because I am so fond of this person.
Strangely, I welcomed the comment (better to get a negative comment from a friend rather than a stranger I guess), and, instead of deleting it, I decided to respond and make both comments public.
This has made me very curious about how other bloggers respond to negative comments. Do tell!
blogging Family Friendship