My Vein, My Blood – 1

Wednesday 10/8 or 9/2003:

 How’s your day going?  Don’t dwell on the people who purposely set out to make you feel bad…first thing in the morning by sending you e-mails and overturning your garbage and recycling.  Screw them.  Poor small-minded individuals who don’t have enough going on in their own lives.  I should go the October meeting just to get J’s goat.  Now who’s nasty and vindictive?  Except why would I subject myself to those people and their petty, negative behavior?  If I do, it just makes me no better than them. So I think not.  Good little baby Doritos.  I think I’ll walk the dogs when I get home.  Shake off the way my morning started. And from now on I’ll get up early and take out garbage and recycling and foil those criminals!!

Not dated:

It’s a terrible thing to wish your parents dead.  And I don’t.  Not really.  But I wish they hadn’t moved so far away from me.  What were they thinking?  Back to Missouri they went after Dad retired leaving my brother and me in Florida with our respective spouses and children.  What were they thinking I often wonder as I am now seated in a Jetstream 41 which left from Lambert Field in S.L. a half hour ago and which, if all goes well, will land in Joplin in about 15 minutes.  I am seated just forward of the wing where I can keep an eye on the propeller.  This isn’t as comforting as you might think, for we will know immediately if there’s a problem with the engines for I assume there would be a drastic drop in the noise level and vibration.  An elderly airline attendant, spry though she’s 60 if she’s a day, scampered down the narrow aisle offering us pretzels before take-off.  One bag or two she asks and hands me two which I take.  I’m not particularly fond of pretzels and these are Fisher’s minis, not Rold Gold like the ones on the flight from Fort Myers.  I would have liked two bags of those to balance out the can of Coke, but I didn’t ask and they weren’t offered.  The Fisher’s taste like small bits of cardboard and have a tinny aftertaste which I suspect is due to the metallic packets they came in.  I eat both bags to go with the 7-Up the attendant, who I’ve named Myrna because she looks like she could be a Myrna, brought me as soon as we reached cruising altitude which can’t be very high up because from the window I can see what looks like beautifully symmetrical green fairways but which I suspect is farmland.  The cup of ice Myrna set on my tray began to slide toward my lap until I grabbed it.  I had to hold the tray level with my knees to pour the 7-Up in my cup and even then it slid and spilled a bit.  I don’t care.  It’s 7-Up after all and I am wearing black jeans.  I’ve been fighting a headache all day and though I’d like to read I decide my book, a p.b. by Laura V.W. would be put to better use helping to hold my tray level.  Going home, resentful—Mom? Fell broke hip?  In nursing home.  Dad says ______ died.  Nursing home deaths of people they know?  Maybe one is a cousin or something like Loretta?  Make character a former ? Investigator of some type like for a D.A.’s office.  So she could look into death unofficially.  Not exactly amateur sleuth but similar.

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