Yesterday, as I made my way home from my daily walk, Gracie walked down her driveway to greet me. She is looking well. We conversed for a while. She had a visit from the nurse scheduled during the next hour but invited me to visit for a chat after the nurse had gone.

Gracie was eating her breakfast in the closed-in porch when I arrived back at her house. She sat in the sunny room at a little table. Her breakfast spread before her, she was happily chatting to her two colorful budgies. Over the next two hours she reminisced and theorized about the state of the world. She admitted to being eighty-two years of age.

She decided to give me some wool for Attila, as he is interested in taking up knitting. The wool, she said, was stored in the closet of the second-floor, spare bedroom. I followed her up the stairs. It was a bit frightening at first; she was out of breath. That did not slow her down for long. She chatted happily as she sorted through a chest of drawers, removing keepsakes, and treasures of all kinds. As she spread the objects over the bed, each had a story and every story gave her joy.

She stopped suddenly, turned to me in some distress, and said, "What will happen to all my things?"

"You know," I said, "lately I have been thinking about what would happen to all my things. There are things I want people to keep, like the family history information I have gathered and a few of my publications. But really, most of my things are just mine. What happens to them when there is no me is not my problem."

Gracie slowly nodded; she made no comment. The next moment we were looking at pictures of her grandparent's home in England. Shortly after that, I took my leave.

She insisted on walking me to my door, three houses away. We strolled slowly down the street, as she pointed out a variety of nefarious gardening offenses committed by the neighbors. No comment was made on our front garden. Once home, and from inside my house, I secretly watched Gracie returning home. She stopped in front of another elderly neighbor's house to inspect the empty garbage can and recycling box. After some consideration she picked up the box, grabbed the handle of the garbage can, and took them to the back of the neighbor's house.

Gracie is a great gal.

The weather was horrid yesterday. All day long, we were under "Severe Thunder Storm Warnings" that included the possibility of tornadoes. All this did not hit my house and home particularly hard. The difficult part was not knowing if or who would be affected by the severe weather and keeping the computers shutdown and unplugged. As it happened, there were no reports of personal injury due to the weather yesterday.

Three crockpots are busy doing their thing in the kitchen today. One contains granola. One contains spaghetti sauce with fresh basil from the garden. One contains a lemon pudding. Attila will welcome a change from the BBQ and salad routine.

A little bit of excitement for me today. One of my molars has been acting up; I called the Dentist's office thinking I might get an appointment in the next week or so. They could fit me in today; they could fit me in just two hours. I gratefully took the appointment. Then they called back to say that if I could come right now, this very minute, the Dentist would see me right away. That was all I needed to hear. I jumped in the car and was in the parking lot of the Dentist's office within minutes.

I filled in the form for the Receptionist. I had brought with me the booklet from the insurance company so that she could get the information needed. I kept a close watch on it and asked her to return it to me as soon as I saw that it was no longer needed.

"You see," I said, "I am quite forgetful. If I forgot it here, I would never remember where I left it."

A few minutes later I was sitting in the big grey chair with my feet up, being administered to by a truly pleasant woman who took x-rays. Minutes after that the Dentist herself appeared.

I am a little shy these days, as she made pleasant conversation I found myself blushing at my responses. Goodness, the comments, and questions she asked were totally friendly. I knew that and yet I blushed to the roots of my hair as I conversed with her. I really must get out and about amongst adult people more often. The "cringing at interaction" I experience with "The Teenager" is starting to become my modus operandi. I will have to come up with a plan; ease myself into adult society slowly. Sigh, it may not be time yet; "The Teenager" is not done yet.

In addition to my being a little hard to communicate with, my mouth is a little hard to freeze. This is not entirely true. My tongue froze. My lips froze. My cheek froze. The tooth and area immediately surrounding it did not completely freeze. That meant that I could feel that drill as it removed the old filling and the bit of cavity beside it. I pride myself on my high pain threshold. Ha! It is false pride! I cringed. I moaned. I behaved like a complete coward. I am ashamed to say that the pain was not that bad; my reaction to the pain was embarrassing.

After the procedure was complete, I proceeded to the front office to sign the necessary forms. That is where I applied the polish to my image.

I wear reading glasses. I keep my reading glasses connected to a short black cord hanging around my neck. The Dentist puts little bibs around your neck and so my reading glasses became inaccessible. I removed them from their short black cord and put them on. Being accustomed to finding them at the "end of the rope" when I need to read, I was disconcerted when they were not there. I searched the bib of my overalls; they were not there. I looked in my purse; they were not there.

The Receptionist asked with concern, "What are you looking for?"

"My glasses," I answered, "I do not know what I have done with my glasses."

She looked at me with amazed amusement and said, "You're wearing them!"

We all laughed.

Well, I did say that I was quite forgetful, really I did.