I spent all of my time today cleaning up my kitchen floor.  I dropped a quart of sweet pickles in sugar juice all over the floor.  I can’t even describe the mess.  And the floor will still be sticky for ever I fear.

I have kept walking around the block this month at seven in the morning before it gets hot.  Missed once when it was raining.  I hope it helps me get my strength back. I’m so non-mechanical that it took me two weeks to figure out that the walker handles could be adjusted up and down.

I’ve been eating mashed potatoes for breakfast.  “Idahoan” brand.  I have a hot water tap at my sink...so it is instant.  I love things that are instant!!! Food is my biggest problem.  It is hard to cook for one person.  And my mama taught me never to throw food out---which is impossible anymore.

My publisher came by yesterday.  We are trying to get my next book on the market.  I sent an e-mail copy to my brother Bill, and he found over twenty mistakes--that’s after I had edited it myself over and over.  I can’t find my own mistakes because my mind reads what I “want” it to say.  July is almost over.  Where has this year gone?!!?  

The aging process is a enigma.  You never know where you are.  In your 80’s, you realize that time is not on your side, but on any given day, you feel great...and then next day the you don’t.  And you ask yourself, “Is this it?”  I think I am doing everything a person can do to stay healthy,  but my body sometimes doesn’t agree with my mind.

You don’t dare complain.  People don’t like to hear complaints no matter what your age is.  And you really don’t know if you have something going on that you should complain about!!!  Maybe it is just a bad day.

My dad lived to ninety-four and the only complaint he ever made was once: he told me about the plate of leftovers I had set on the table for him.  It was something he didn’t want to eat.  So I fried him an egg and he was happy.  I wish all of us could be satisfied so easily.   

I joined a group named “Rusty Keys.”  Women who learned to play an instrument in their youth, got married, had kids and got “rusty” playing their instrument.  I had been so sick this last year that I had quit going.  But today (I’m better) I played the marimba for them.  My marimba had been in the trunk of my car for a year.  It comes apart into six or seven pieces.  And for the first time in my life (I got the thing when I was fourteenI) of playing it, I flubbed up.  You can’t leave something in your car trunk for a year and expect to take it out and be fantastic.  The redeeming fact is that everyone there played an instrument  and flubbed up.  I think that’s where the group got the name “Rusty.”  They are a fun group.

I would give the marimba away ( I have another one in the family room) if there was some child who would like to learn and stay with it.  It was used when I got it and I’ve been playing it for 70 years.  It’s time for someone else to play.

I’m ready for the election to be over!!!  I can’t get anything interesting on the television.  It seems like every channel has been preempted and you have to sit and wait for the show continue.

I’ve been watching old movies.  It’s amazing how TV programing has changed.  And with playback, I have learned how many minutes of a show are used for advertising.  Over half of the time--for some channels.

I like Discover, Shark Tales, and anything nature or science.  Back in the “good-old-days,” we only had three channels, and news once in the evening.

The weathermen predict the worst possibilities all day long, so you really don’t know what the weather is until it happens. Everyone tells me to pay up for ad-free TV.  I would if someone would do it for me.  I don’t want to learn how to do it--and end up owing someone a million dollars. I’m a perfect scam target.

When I write, I edit it constantly.  And when it is finally ready to print, I give it to Bill to read.  That’s when I find out that it isn’t ready to print!  He has already found over 25 mistakes.  It is so helpful to have someone do that for me.  I can’t catch my own mistakes.  

My publisher is supposed to bring me a contract this week.  I hope so.  I’ll give her all of my brother’s corrections and be done.  “Done.”  Becky says “done” is her favorite word.  I agree.  

And now that it is “done” I have started writing again.  Something fresh and new.  My mind if freed up to start inventing another story.  I am not particularly a writer, I am a story teller.  My girls say, “Give mom one fact and she will turn it into 300 pages.”

 I walked around the block early 7:00 AM this morning.  It is so hot here by 8:00 that you can hardly breath.  The tip ends of every plant and blade of grass are brown. 

My water bill was over $200.  I got the bill yesterday.  I immediately turned my sprinkling system off.  The grass and shrubs are going to have to make it on their own.

Pryor, Oklahoma is a cheap place to live.  Edmond isn’t. I have an old paper the lists Pryor one of the most economic  places in the USA to live.  

Edmond is one of (if not the) most expensive places in Oklahoma.  I wish I had never left Pryor--I did because both girls live close by here.  I had been ending up in the hospital over and over and they wanted me closer to where they live so they could take care of me. I’m so independent, however, that I just take care of myself.  I wish I had stayed in Pryor.