Elevators

Sigh. The elevators at my mother's senior living complex have to carry thousands of pounds every day, including the heavy motorized scooters driven around by disabled people. The buildings are around 30 years old, and probably built by graft and payoffs in the first place, and those elevator scare the beejeebers out of me. Mom lives on the 3rd floor and I do all her grocery shopping for her, so most of my visits there are solo. I come in on the ground floor and ride up to the third (top) level, and the elevators creak and shake and whine all the way up. There is an occasional CLUNK or even a whistling noise, and the little boxes shudder and seem to sway just a little. I'm almost always alone when I ride up (or down) and I never fail the think this will be the time. The cable will break and they'll haul my lifeless corpse out of the basement and say "She was more than Old Otis could handle!"

Worse, I wonder if three flights is enough to kill me. I'd hate to be alive and hear them say that.

"A fat stomach never breeds fine thoughts" - St. Jerome

"A fat stomach never breeds fine thoughts" - St. Jerome

My world-view has grown much smaller in the past few years. I used to be very deeply concerned about mankind, womankind, childkind, animal welfare, social politics and the environment. While I still feel the same, my brain chemistry has altered (or sumpthin) and I no longer experience the drive to DO anything about these issues. (Kvetch, maybe.)

I sorta hope that will change, but I'm like "meh" about it right now.

I've had two blogs for years and I don't use them at all. Once an uncorkable writer, I'm now pretty stretched to fill a Twitter (not that anyone is following).

But two days ago my youngest daughter, Molly, got engaged to her lovely boyfriend Matt. We like him. She likes him. He likes her. They are thinking about next May (2011) for a wedding. I guess that's fine. But it only gives me 9 months to lose about 50 pounds.

And that's as good a reason to blog as any.