Tag Archives: otto

Why would I be in Parliament’s room?

I just bought a new book, and the sun is shining on the tree with the red berries outside Scarlett’s window. Otto is licking all the stuffed animals that are piled up in a beanbag chair, and it occurs to me that the thing I say the most these days is “Otto, NO!” But suddenly he’s asleep next to my wheel, snoring gently and snuggling with a small stuffed turtle in a non-drooling way that I find acceptable.

It’s a calm day here, a high contrast to last night when the hail hammering down on our back deck woke up Scarlett, and we sat for a few minutes and watched the storm together.

“It’s snowing!” she shrieked, and insisted on opening the door to touch a piece of hail, such a novelty for a kid who’s growing up in San Francisco.

I’m tired this week. My arms seem heavier, and it’s a struggle to correct all the stupid mistakes the dictation is making. I want to scream at it I said Scarlett not Parliament! Why would I be in Parliament’s room? Read More>

|Categories: Life, Meditation, Relationships | Tags: , , , | Permalink

Labor Day

It’s Labor Day today, and I guess technically I should not be writing, because the blog, while a labor of love, still definitely requires work. These days it’s easier to think of the words than to get them on the page, so I wait for a burst of energy, type what I can and then switch to dictation, even though the sentences never quite come out right. Then there’s more typing to correct all the weirdness. It’s laborious for sure.

When I was gainfully employed in the publishing industry, I knocked out emails like it was the easiest thing in the world. Day and night, using those typing skills I’d first learned in 6th grade computer lab. Now I’m so behind in basic communication that it’s embarrassing. I should have an auto reply on my gmail and text platforms: “Sorry, I am unable to reply to your message in a timely fashion because I used all my energy to put my contact lenses in. And by the way, it didn’t even work; my husband ended up putting them in for me. I’ll try to get back to you at some point this month.” And then some emoticons: a kissy face, a surprised cat, a thumbtack, the Golden Gate Bridge. Just because. Read More>

|Categories: Life, Relationships | Tags: , , | Permalink

The Parking Ticket

The dog had been in our possession for four days. He was small and cuddly, and peed wherever he felt like it. Every morning, sometimes as early as 4:45, he would whine to let us know he was ready for the day to start. It was time to take him to the vet, to get him vaccinated, the goal being that he could eventually graduate from the backyard, run around in the real world, tire himself out and maybe sleep until 6:30am.

Rob was working, so the vet visit was up to me. My assistant Rochelle, Scarlett, Otto and I got into the mobility van and set out on our mission. I was feeling short of breath, still not far enough away from my ICU visit to be purely comfortable in the great outdoors, and looking forward to my new anti-anxiety medication kicking in.

It did kick in, somewhere in the middle of the appointment, and I began to feel my personality returning. The visit itself was uneventful, except that obviously Otto peed on the floor.

When we got back to the car, there was a ticket on the window. Rochelle picked it up and handed it to me. $875 for parking in a handicapped spot with an expired placard. Unbeknownst to me, the placard had expired on June 30. It was July 15.

If you have a permanent parking placard, there is supposedly nothing you need to do but wait for a new one to arrive when the old one expires. But nothing had come in the mail, and I hadn’t even noticed. I don’t think about the parking placard very often. I drive around in a mobility vehicle, with a wheelchair and hands that can’t even reach up to greet a friend or new acquaintance. I was relying on the efficiency of the DMV. Cue insane laughter.

We went home and I stared at the ticket. It felt like an insult. Obviously an officer had placed it on the mobility van. Who the hell would be driving that thing if they didn’t have to? Read More>

|Categories: Life, Venting | Tags: , , , | Permalink