The geese are very noisy. While I was walking in my community today I heard a great many geese (at least four families) yapping. Then there was a chorus from the ducks. Meanwhile the pigeons were cooing. A flotilla of sea gulls were squawking. I don't know but it felt like a playground of rowdy kids.
I walked more than yesterday as hubby tried to explain stuff to me about math. I am very bad at math and I can only do language like poetry which is the very opposite of math. Hubby was not able to explain math concepts to me but I nodded my head at appropriate moments while I thought in my head that math is like a crystal palace that is very beautiful but I would not want to live there.
In any case, my legs hurt which tells me that years of sitting in the writing room waiting for a Muse who is visiting other poets was not a very reasonable matter and I should have tried to wave an antenna or move a leg once in a while. I will walk every day now so that I do not become a collapsible tent of bones in the next few decades.
I have yet to call dad to see if the ancient ones want to go out to grocery shop. Dad is still sick so he may just want me to do the shopping for him. I will have to think of supper as the tuna can meal I had yesterday was very ugly.
When I have finished my coffee I will look at organization of the papers for the lawsuit that are on the floor. I can also vacuum up the dustballs and the bits of geranium flowers that have decorated the papers. I have to do Elder Advocates Working Group stuff that I have put off for today.
When I pick up Rebecca she wants to go to the dollar store for more paints. I will buy the big bottles of paint as the small ones run out as she is splashing paint over the pages in great Modernistic waves. The blue and purple product is also splashed with yellow. The new painting is sunflower yellow sections. I figure all this splashing of paint is going to regenerate the brain that was fried with all the hospitalizations she has been through. The brain is very flexible and if you simply work day and night as I have for years writing bad poetry eventually the brain can string together two ideas and restore meaning to the existence.
I figure that after ten years of painting my sister will be a bit better in terms of health and cognitive functioning than she presently is. I mean she is handicapped which means in our society that she isn't useful. But she is not dead yet and she can have a good quality life if I decide this. Painting, drawing, art on every weekend will give her the quality of life that is above the basement level enjoyed by so many on AISH in Alberta. And a dollar store visit once in a while to buy make up will give her fun times. Why nail polish is so much fun is beyond me but there you go.
In any case, she will paint and watch movies to regenerate brain function. Most of us will need such neural stimulation. I read poetry although I haven't got to the library due to the lawsuit. Yesterday I asked the library for books so I will be able to read until we go to court. It's no use getting your knickers in a twist as a lawsuit is a wrestling match between lawyers and you are simply the one paying cash for the show.
Because the geraniums are flourishing I thought my brown thumb was all done with until I saw the plants on the main floor that I forgot about and they seem to be end game. It's a sad matter but the ginger root I planted to see what would happen is very boring. She has put out a green thumb much as if she is hitching a ride but has not done anything more. The sickly plants I saved from the dumpster at the store are very sick now and will probably kick the bucket. I avoid looking at their accusing faces. The Xmas cacti (two of them) aren't making any effort to bloom and parts seem to be dying off. I won't water them any more.Maybe they have wet feet.
I have yet to water and feed the geraniums. The Canada Day geranium cuttings are getting bigger but are not into muscular body building. I have seen the twigs outside my window pushing out febrile buds so I guess I should just be happy the Canada Day geraniums are boisterous in their fashion.
The walk was very nice. I feel that if I do the walk every day my back won't hurt any more from being hunched over the computer keyboard writing. One day I will have a compilation of poems that I will put into a book and post on my blog. It's no used trying to sell poetry; I will simply put it out like Emily Dickinson and they will go like small pigeons to the places where they find a home. A poet is simply the vehicle by which the Muse works. In my case, the instrument I am playing is very mysterious and the poor Muse has to have years of instruction before I get to focus.