Degas ‘Little Dancer’ at the National Gallery of Art
Early here. It’s 6:28 AM and I’ve showered and dressed; made my bed; let the dog out and given him his daily vitamin; made my self a cup of tea and turned on the light over the plant stand. Now I sit down to write a post and/or read one of the six books I’ve begun.
Meanwhile the trash removal and recycle crews have traveled up and down the street crashing and banging bins left and right. Those boys are up early.
Friko wrote the other day she hoped I was not running around like a demented person, and I hope I am not, but December does get busy. David replaced the batteries in our window candles, but I have yet to hang a wreath on the front door, set up my little tree, and unpack the “manger scene.” This weekend, I promise.
Kathy is talking to me about attending mass with her Christmas morning over at the Fort Myers Chapel. I haven’t been in that chapel since Bill’s wife died of an aneurism. Like so many old friends, Bill, a former Navy Captain retired and moved to West Virginia with his second wife. When he dies, his sons will bury him next to their mother at Arlington Cemetery.
Old friends and missing relatives..we think about them a lot around this time of the year. This week, I read an obituary notice for yet another of my “younger than me” male bosses.
Yesterday, David drove me to the Happy Tart Patisserie in Del Ray which sells gluten-free goodies. I’m back on a gluten-free diet…what a pain in the gut. Actually, it was a constant oppressive pain in my stomach that drove me back on the diet. The genetically modified wheat of the twenty-first century apparently does me in. So, I bought gluten-free macarons and a lovely loaf of brioche. I like the brioche best..sliced, toasted, and buttered. I’ll have some this morning with my Dundee marmalade. And a boiled egg and half a grapefruit…unsweetened of course.
I’ve acquired a taste for orange marmalade. Most jams and jellies are simply too sweet for me, while the marmalade filled with bitter orange rind is better. Those macarons are too sweet, but David will eat them. David will eat anything.
This morning, we’re off to Trader Joe’s to stock up on vegetables and gluten-free stuff.
I’ve been reading another Of Atul Gwande’s books on medicine….The Checklist Manifesto. Very interesting. Basically, Gwande argues, and I think rightly so, that society’s systems, medicine in his case, have become so complicated we need “check lists” to make sure we’ve done the simple things while in the process of doing the larger things.
Simple things like washing your hands can save lives he says, and yet 50% of the time, medical personnel forget to do this when they should. As one who suffered a urinary tract infection both times I underwent major surgery this past year, I wonder if hands were washed when they should have been. It’s difficult to say “Did you wash your hands?” when you are semi-comotose, however. Why a patient needs an advocate with her.