I am just trying to regroup this morning and get my ducks in a row.
I don't know exactly what that means, but...
I am planning a trip to Texas in two weeks, a bit more.
Have to get medication lined up, in order...and figure out what I
need to take for us all to do, if anything. I'll have to see what my
grandkids have. I am looking forward to seeing those kids.
My book on the Grand Staircase needs what? We are on our last look through, I hope. I am looking forward to publishing. People are calling
to order the books I don't have. Camille called and said two guides ;
from Wayne County want one or two. Mala called and said she wanted one or
two for teachers. A few people have asked me. But I've got to get them
done..ready to go. I keep thinking I should include an index. Cover?
Spiral or not? Color pictures or not?
What else? Shall I keep going through the Clyde King book, correct errors?
Maybe so. I am also including a paragraph on Grandpa King's brothers and sisters.
What about all the kids? Enough?
What next? My own history? Oh my what a lot of stuff! Gerry is doing hers, polishing as she goes. It's something of a miracle! She is writing down her story
that many don't see the same way...but she is writing it down. It is happening after so many years of thinking and thinking.
Marge's death tugs me in unexpected ways. I am still trying to recover from the suddenness, not expecting death for a foot surgery. If she would have stayed overnight in the hospital, she might have been saved. Who stays overnight for a
extended-day surgery anymore? But if she had a stroke, the saving might have been hard too. So a quick death might be better for her. Who expects a quick death anymore. When a sister goes, she leaves a hole...that's for sure. I am not ready to ask her what she is doing over there when I am not sure what I am doing here.
I feel it is important for me to take direction for myself. I do hope my sister LaRae is looking after her. I hope Floyd, her husband who died the next day, is finding himself too.
Tom is walking around with his wound-vac. It's a machine that vacuums out the drainage and closes up a wound. He found a belt so he can carry it around and said he would find a peice of baling wire to tie the tubing to his leg so it doesn't flop around. He said, "I'll look like an old farmer tying himself together. If I didn't have a bad leg, I couldn't do all this." I had to laugh. Is that positive thinking about your bad leg or what? Well, maybe not exactly positive, but funny.
Our son-in-law was here yesterday...attending a funeral of a young friend only 27, who lost a leg in a mower accident. His nickname is Legger. They don't know what actually happened to him. His Dad Kyle is also in bad shape. When severe accidents happen to the very young, it's tragic. Helps you put your life into perspective. Lynne took some time to spray weeds. We appreciate that.
This is a blog trying to regroup and move along. Slowly.
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Enjoyed this entry. Wondered where you were writing, and found some on your blog. That's good. That you are writing. I have been busy today, too, doing another memoir chapter. Soon I am going to be writing new chapters after having gone through all the ones I have written on the new version. I don't have many more to post that are already written and I just have to polish a little. After they are posted, I will really have to work! Sounds like a sad graveside service. Poor guy. Sounds like losing a leg might have done him in eventually. He was too young when it happened. "Legger" is gone.
ReplyDeleteI didn't tell you that when I left Panguatch, I stopped to get something for Clarke and Jed at the Flying M and I said to a woman there, I am Ann Reynolds sister. She said, "Oh, I love Ann. She helped me so much with my book." As we talked I found out she was the one with the book TWICE A MIRACLE. I told her I had read her book and it was amazing. She was so pleased. Said she had thanked you in her book. So there is one woman in town who might never have got her book done without you...she said.
ReplyDeleteJust keep writng those book and encoraging others to write theirs.
I have had a hard time getting going again too.
Camille said yesterday when I went up to help her, "Now what were we doing?" (before Aunt Margie's death). It is hard to get back at all the life stuff after such a sudden death.
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