Yesterday I lounged poolside, reading.  Though sunny it was windy and coolish, so I was bundled up in my "new" quilt, the one I made for Mom from Dad's t-shirts after he died.  It is backed with minky (for comfort) in Mom's favorite color: yellow.

 

First I went through the envelope of WP clippings that Mom had been collecting to mail to me, all of interest, of course.  Then I started reading one of my new library books, The Pull of the Stars, the latest by author Emma Donoghue.  

Set in a Dublin maternity ward in 1918, the novel captures a city devastated by the flu pandemic. By diving into the terrors of the past, Emma Donoghue presciently anticipates the miseries of our present, though she began writing this novel during the 1918 pandemic’s centennial year, before COVID-19 gave it the grim contemporary relevance.

My foot is looking considerably better two weeks post-break, because much of the swelling (aside from where the actual break is) has subsided. In addition the bruised color is working at fading, so my toes have lost some of their gangrenous look.  With almost two weeks left before I see the doc again, I'm hopeful that healing will have progressed enough for him to allow some weight bearing walking to begin.  

And while naturally I'd very much appreciate healing to happen quickly, I must agree with this advice: Your goal should not be to heal as FAST as possible, your goal should be to heal as FULLY as possible.  Thus I'm "proud" to say that I'm strictly following doctor's orders, and "taking steps" (pun intended) toward full healing.

I'm just about finished writing Mom's obit.  That may have been on my mind last night when Mom appeared in a dream which was actually more of a nightmare; I was lost in a "place" that was an unrealistic maze-crazy combination of Goucher (which had turned into a city) and Riderwood, with its changing levels.  I couldn't find my way back to Mom, and couldn't even call for directions because my flip phone had quit working.  (Even in that alternate universe I still didn't have a smart phone.)

 Never thought I'd miss doing housework, but letting things slide this past month (first while I was concerned with Mom, and then mourning her, and now with my foot) means everything has "progressed" well past my usual laid-back approach.  While clean enough <g> usually worked, I can now say that if the state of things is bothering me (!) obviously the house sorely needs attention.