At my father’s funeral in March of 2016, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. It seemed wrong to take photos, but I had the camera. I was afraid to touch anyone, for fear I would break down. I just kind of wandered. Wandering still.
Grief lingers
May 2021
Maybe I’ll have my book written by 2025
COVID 19: Day 418
Long COVID is kicking my butt. Two days at the office, and not even full days, kicked my butt. Depleted. Or as they say “out of spoons.”
I waw diagnosed with COVID in October. By January, when I was still exhausted and out of breath easily, I was diagnosed with Long COVID. I suppose by now it’s Long Long COVID. I am quite literally tired of it all. I want my life back.
So. I’m home today — working yes — but without the physical stress of dressing and getting to the office.
Spanish Dancer Shoes
I might have a shoe problem.
Really.
It’s a problem especially now that I live alone and there is no one to stop me from my madness.
As I write this, the one side of my king-sized bed is covered in new boxes. The government called it an economic stimulus. I called it New Shoes!
I went overboard.
I have written many times about why I have a shoe addiction – those ugly black and white saddle shoes — corrective shoes prescribed by a podiatrist. I hated them. A visceral strong pulse of hate. Loathed them. Stretch that word out –Looooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathhhhhhhhhhhhhhed.
But I’ve never talked about my favorite shoes.
Imagine.
I’ve had many shoes that I’ve loved — worn to tatters. Which ones are my favorite? All of them.. It depends on the day, the outfit, my mood. The depth of my nostalgia or temporality.
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W. Va. Fur and Root 