Wednesday, Mary 21, 2014 

One-year anniversary of my sister-in-law’s untimely death to the heinous glioblastoma. Sent an e-card to my brother and the girls. No day to talk with them. Mom asked to speak with my son, Johnny Boy. Bad idea. She would forget about it anyhow. She would be sure to ask the usual questions: How is Margie? Is she working? Does she take good care of you? Does she cook for you? Followed by the predictable, Oh how nice or the Oh yeah? No day for my brother to hear mom go on and on about Margie. He visited the cemetery today. I am sure Margie was with him. Margie didn’t make it to 65. Mom is still kicking at 97. There’s no telling why or how—ever!

 I am still exploring buying a doll for mom. Tough to admit the terrible downturn. Spoke with cousin Marje. I asked her what motivated her to buy a doll for her mother. She said that the nurses at the nursing home actually gave her mom the doll. We talked for a bit today about mom, Rose, Margie.

 Glad that it rained all day. The negative ions soothed the day somewhat. Didn’t do much for the pups who were just groomed, but they managed. Went to Loews and bought some more vibrant New Guinea impatiens for the hosta corner in preparation for the wedding shower coming up. Want the gardens to look wonderful. Always much to do. Hydrangeas are lagging very far behind. Have cut some back. Hoping we have more leaves and even some blooms in a few weeks. Things do begin to move quickly when the days warm up. Still, it’s been quite cool. Mom, still playing mother, cautions me to wear a coat or a sweater or to put on shoes when I go out onto the back porch. I listen, but I don’t obey. I walk out onto the back porch with bare feet wishing I had listened. The tiles are cold, but I will be damned if I am going to put shoes on because my mother is asking me to. I tell her I will be fine, and I grin and bear it.