Saturday, January 29, 2005
I'm giddy, this morning.
The Christmas card in the middle of which we live is being painted, as I write, by a Jackson Pollack sky god. It began before I awoke.
Snow all day today. I'm not sure whether that means my mother will sleep in or awaken early. I know, either way, she'll be thrilled with the results of our mini snow storm.
The snow is falling straight down in small clumps. It's a wet snow; I can tell because as the tree branches fill with snow they are dropping snow.
Prescott hosts a peculiar native bird, tiny, gray-brown like a sparrow with a top hat like a cardinal and a plentiful down undercoat that makes the bird appear like a butterball when it's cold. This bird goes apeshit in the snow. Groups of them burrow beneath branches of low branched bushes, squawk their plans then head out to harvest the berries that the other bigger birds eat only when it's not snowing. They are active only on the coldest side of the house, the southeast, which also has the most branch cover. I can hear them twirping now. I believe it was they who awoke me before dawn.
My coffee tastes especially good this morning. I'm neither anticipating my mother's late awakening nor poised precariously against the possibility of an early awakening. Whatever she does is fine with me.
Today is day two of my mother's UTI (which may be the same one as before) and administering Levaquin 250 mg x 1/day.
I think I'll take her blood sugar this morning, since we polished off that ice cream last night. That's the last of the formal sweets. If she gets desperate I could do what she did for one of my nephews once when he was in the throes of a sweet fit and Grandma didn't have anything prepared. Nah...if we do sugar today, we do sugar. If not, we don't.
Later.
Snow all day today. I'm not sure whether that means my mother will sleep in or awaken early. I know, either way, she'll be thrilled with the results of our mini snow storm.
The snow is falling straight down in small clumps. It's a wet snow; I can tell because as the tree branches fill with snow they are dropping snow.
Prescott hosts a peculiar native bird, tiny, gray-brown like a sparrow with a top hat like a cardinal and a plentiful down undercoat that makes the bird appear like a butterball when it's cold. This bird goes apeshit in the snow. Groups of them burrow beneath branches of low branched bushes, squawk their plans then head out to harvest the berries that the other bigger birds eat only when it's not snowing. They are active only on the coldest side of the house, the southeast, which also has the most branch cover. I can hear them twirping now. I believe it was they who awoke me before dawn.
My coffee tastes especially good this morning. I'm neither anticipating my mother's late awakening nor poised precariously against the possibility of an early awakening. Whatever she does is fine with me.
Today is day two of my mother's UTI (which may be the same one as before) and administering Levaquin 250 mg x 1/day.
I think I'll take her blood sugar this morning, since we polished off that ice cream last night. That's the last of the formal sweets. If she gets desperate I could do what she did for one of my nephews once when he was in the throes of a sweet fit and Grandma didn't have anything prepared. Nah...if we do sugar today, we do sugar. If not, we don't.
Later.
