I go to our local senior center three times a week. I rarely take part in the activities, but I take my netbook to get online and catch up on overnight developments. It gets me out of the house and out of myself. I sit in the library just around the corner from the wireless hub, reading and greeting or harassing folks as they wander through. I've mentioned several times in comments the two Jesus guys who sit in the library and talk religion and politics. Yeah, it's always an interesting encounter.
Over the weekend, OFA called to invite me to be among the first to vote in our county. They asked us to be there at 7:30a.m. and told us there would be doughnuts and coffee. It sounded like a good deal to me, so I signed up. They called last night to remind me, but I'd already set my alarm for 5a.m.
(This will be long. I can't tell the story any other way. The tenses are also a little confused and I've added things as they come up. I've written this over time and no amount of editing will make it exactly right.) At this time, May 8, 2012, everything seems under control. I know that at some point, whether soon or down the line, this diary will be posted in memory of a woman who touched many lives. Over the weekend (May 5th), I wrote a diary asking for prayers for her. I only had part of the information, but the word “hospice” was enough to get my attention.
This is not an easy diary to write, but I must do it. In fact, it's really all I can do.
I think I know how the health insurance companies are going to make up for having to cover people and things that they didn't have to before. My visit to the pharmacy today was, well, shocking.
Although everyone is super-focused on the Iowa caucuses today, something else of great import happened here, too.
Time and again, I've seen this community rally for one cause or another. The speed and enthusiasm with which it does are an impressive indication of just how much of a “community” we really are. Whether it's time, money, or expertise, there are plenty of generous folks here who are not only will to help, but eager. There are even those who get just a little manic about it – yes, I'm talking to you, Vote4Obamain2012! :-)
I do talk about being poor sometimes, but never really say how bad it is. I've been under-employed for a couple of years, and my little job isn't enough for me to make ends meet. My landlord has sent me court papers for eviction and I have to respond with $$ by Tuesday, which is the court date.
a DK user who purchased a lifetime subscription for me.
It seems like I've known Charlotte forever, but I met her here in early 2009. It was one of the luckiest chance encounters of my life. Of course, I didn't realize it at the time, but I think our first interaction was in her diary, Being Deaf. For some reason, we just hit it off. We lost track of each other for awhile in the spring of that year, but once we reconnected, we've kept up our correspondence.
They were a unit. For over 50 years, they were an inseparable team, but it hadn't always been that way.
While cruising through the MSNBC site to check up on the state of the world, I saw this: “Workers still missing after grain elevator blast.” Now, I don't know a thing about Atchison, Kansas beyond the song “The Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe” but I am familiar with grain elevators in a town. Before the article could load on my computer, I knew what this was about.
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