British Invasion

A couple of weeks ago, I was going to have a tui na massage at Quan Yin on a Friday afternoon, but it got cancelled that same day, so I called my acupuncturist to see if he might still have an opening, and he did, so, for the first time, I rode my bike over there. I parked it outside the medical center at Divisadero and Sutter and then walked three blocks. That worked out fine, so I will probably ride my bike from now on, or at least until the rainy season.

He was extremely nice about Thelonious. He took my hand and listened to the whole story about what she eats and doesn’t eat, and then we had a discussion about the deaths of various loved ones.

I was hoping I hadn’t sounded unkind about the woman from my 12-Step meeting. I had made a rational calculation that a friendship probably wouldn’t work out; there was also a gut feeling of unease, but I didn’t want to go too far into the details.

I think it’s prudent to assume that eventually this will be seen by anyone who is mentioned, such as my boss and coworkers. (This, therefore, is quite unlike my ramblings in person, which are mainly about other people’s lamentable shortcomings.)

I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings in print (nor lose my job). I also don’t want any horse to wake up with my severed head in its bed, which is what would happen if I wrote about certain family members, so I write only about the two who have given their permission (and who may have forfeited their rights to privacy, anyway, by bringing me into this vale of tears).

On Saturday morning I took a Golden Gate Transit bus to Novato to visit Carol Joy. We sat at a café and had a nice, long chat and then we went to see Trust the Man, which was full of witty lines but neither of us cared what happened to any of the main characters, we agreed later.

Then we went to Whole Foods for lunch. I had an extremely tasty pasta salad with mozzarella in it (I’m a fair-weather vegan). We went to have her car washed and then she waited with me until the bus came. It was a very pleasant visit.

Back at home, I went to meet Lisa, David and Tom at Chef Jia’s on Kearny. We had dinner and went to the Metreon to see The Illusionist, which Lisa picked, and which was good. Then we had cake at Just Desserts.

Lisa and David said they were telling Lisa’s mom about Thelonious’s health problems, and she said, “Oh, I know all about that already--I read Linda’s blog.” I was dumbfounded and delighted. Hi, Lisa’s mother!

On Sunday I talked to my mother on the phone, and to P. and Lisa M. and Alix. One of P.’s sisters calls him twice a week on certain days, but he said this week she didn’t call either day. Once upon a time, he would have been frantic, sure that she no longer loved him or that a horrible mishap had occurred, but now he’s completely serene. I asked if he remembered when he used to get so concerned and why he’s so calm now. He said, “I don’t know; maybe my medicine.” I asked if he still tells himself, “My relationship with so-and-so was never lost,” and he said he still does.

I used to see pieces of paper in his room covered with stuff like this: TROPALWNLPLLPLBTYHP

The relationship of P. and Linda was never lost. P. loves Linda. P. loves Barbara. Thank you, higher power.

I got out of bed at 1 or so and ate two bags of potato chips and nine pieces of chocolate-covered almond toffee (i.e., all there was of the latter; the potato-chip trove is bottomless) and drank a bottle of Orangina, and then went back to bed for a nap, the predictable and generally desired result of an eating experience like that.

I slept until 4:30 off and on. I was thinking that I would not cook and would make do with burritos or sandwiches this week, but, as often happens, I suddenly realized that I did want fruits and veggies and grains and beans, so I sprang out of bed and went to Rainbow and then was up until 1 in the morning cooking.

I was supposed to take Thelonious to be weighed this morning but considered waiting until tomorrow. I got much less sleep than I need and I knew the news was going to be bad and I’d be in tears at work. But I decided just to get it over with and took her over there in a cab.

When the tech came to get her, she asked, “Is she still eating just tuna? How is she doing?” I was touched that they’d made a note in her chart about the tuna and that this person asked about it and her. She is in fact off the tuna, though I’ll try it again if needed.

And there was good news: She gained three ounces in the past two weeks! Guess I'll keep doing what I've been doing.

Overheard on the way to Whole Foods for cat food: Two boys of about 11 practicing their still-needing-some-work British accents: “Hello, laddie, I’m from London.” As I passed, I asked, “Are you guys from London?” and one of them answered, “Yes, we are.”