I have published two books.  If you haven’t read them, I encourage you to do so.  One of the false beliefs about the book publishing world is that the author is making a lot of money.  Not true.  I get one dollar for each one sold which I will gladly discount to you if you just buy a book--then read it and share it with someone else.  My hope is that you will learn something about how life is lived in difficult settings.

 

The first book is a story about the hardship of military children when their dad goes to war.  And the difficulties of moving every year or two.   And the frustrations moving presents when they try to make friends.  They sadly learn not to get too close to others--because they will soon move and never see them again.

The second book is a factual novel set in Macau, China that covers the difficulties my brother faced living an underground life as a missionary to China for 37 years.  Set in the 70s when China was closed to American citizens.  And the underground life he led--getting in and out of multiple countries without being arrested--or worse. 

“The Letter” was an Oklahoma Best Seller.  Everyone who has read either one of the books has encouraged me with their kind words.  I have a third book coming out in a few months.  “The Corsair Pilot.”

I don’t write fiction.  I write about things I know about in “fictional-faction.”   I hope you enjoy what I have written.  Stories based on the real life of real people.

 I am having a “procedure”  today.  As far as I am considered, it’s not just a “procedure” because they are going to put me to sleep.  I had surgery for breast cancer 14 years ago and even though it had spread into a lymph node, after chemo, I recovered.  However, one of the lingering side effects is lymphedema in in my right arm.  

Sometimes when I scratch myself--or unconsciously forget and pick at the skin on a fingernail--I end up in the hospital with the entire arm infected--and they keep me three days or so--to hook me up to antibiotics intravenously--which is irritating.  But, I thank God for modern medicine or I guess the infection would kill me?  

They’ll go through a vein (?) in my arm up to my neck and basically will roto-rooter it.  I have no idea what that helps do. I just trust God and the prayers of my friends and family.

Today I had to be at a doctor’s appointment at 9 and get back here by 10 for the movers to bring end tables, lamps, pictures for the walls and my piano.  “Piano” being the operative word.  I had been the pianist for my church before I moved to Edmond 9 years ago--or maybe it was 10 years?

Anyway, I had been negligent to practice since then, because--no!! No reason for “because.”  I just quit.”  I played my marimba for groups on a regular basis, but not the piano.

So after the movers left, I sat down to play, without a clue as to how rusty I had become.  It was terrible.  Three sharps, four flats, etc.  Brain to fingers wasn’t functional.  The only cure will be to start all over again.  Key of C.  One sharp---what key is that?????  etc. etc.  My cousin Ann lives here and I am going to have to go take literacy piano all over again.  Training my fingers to function will be easy compared to that.  All I have to do is do it.  Sit down and play. 

 I missed blogging Friday, so I’ll do it today--which is Saturday and I don’t usually post on the weekend.

My first week here, we had a fly that constantly landed on our dining table.  We named him “Sam.” Nobody in the dining room did anything about it--so I found a flyswatter and killed him.

 He was immediately replaced by another fly.  And the six women at my table agreed to name him “Joe.”  Within a week, one of the women deep-sixed Joe.  And we thought that was the end of the flies.

There are around twenty tables in the dining room, and since Joe and Sam both seemed to favor our table--we decided it was the sugar everyone used in their tea.  And we also thought we were done with flies.

However, yesterday a new fly found us.  He is doomed; it is just a matter of when.  But he will go to his doom with a name.   We are calling this fly “Jim.”  You would think the flies would have caught on by now that this is personal to our table of women.  We’re already talking about what we will name the next one after Jim has been swatted into fly-ever-after.
     

Tom, Pat’s hubby, came last night and transferred my shower curtain.  And Pat took all the pictures and hooks off the walls.  And cleared all the small things I had left on the floor.  I turned in the key to 208 and received a key to 205 across the hall.  And slept 7 hours without waking up in the night. First time in years.  Praise God.

Now, I have to arrange all the stuff.  I’ve got the bathroom and closet in shape and have shelves left over.  Today I think I will do nothing, or if I do something, it will be something  small.  Like---I’m thinking about arranging extension cords so everything can plug in without wires draping across the floor.  I couldn’t get my charger plugged in by my bed last night.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to have Tom or Craig (Becky’s hubby) to solve this problem since it involves moving furniture.

But today, I plan on doing nothing.  Reading a book, watching TV--which I haven’t turned on in three days.  The world could have turned upside down in the meantime!!

 

 I have moved.  Move #29.  I said move #28 was it, that I would never move again, but a two room came open right across the hall from me with a bedroom!  

 I now have a couch.  I don’t have my recliner shoved between the bed and the wall.  It looks like a real home.  The movers came and took everything out of my house and transferred it to here.  Hallelujah.  It is like normal again.  I am so ecstatic.

Now all I have to do is arrange doo-dads on end tables etc.  Yes!  I have room for end tables next to the two matching couches.  I have room for memorabilia.  Pictures.  A place to set a coffee cup.  Actually a tea cup since I rarely drink coffee. 

I am exhausted.  But it is a small price to pay.  All I need is for someone to transfer my shower curtain.  I could do it, but it would involve something I am not supposed to do.  A step ladder.

 I made a decision to blog again, but then, I forget to do it.  It’s not like I have anything else to do.  But the schedule of this place hems me into time segments that confuse me.  I’m used to eating when I’m hungry.  Here you eat when they tell you to eat and they don’t change the schedule because you aren’t hungry.

I always started projects in the morning when I got up.  Now, I go eat at 7:30 because that’s when it’s ready.  The good thing is that I don’t have to cook it, and it tastes good.  The servers (about eight different of them) all know my name and what I want for breakfast.  They say, “I put your usual order in for you.”  I get through about 8:30 and in three more hours (11:30) lunch is served.  Which I’m not hungry for.

I’m adjusting to being regulated.  I just eat whether I’m hungry or not.

I’m getting a new room on Monday.  It will be a two room apartment which will be 100% better than the one room I’ve been in--which is really cramped.  Getting the bed and TV far enough apart while getting the recliner and TV far enough away is impossible.  Everything is smushed together.  I end up doing crosswords etc., instead of watching TV.  Which is probably better for me anyway.