It's Always Something

People say "it's always something." My dad has a better saying. "There's always something to take the joy out of life."

I haven't taken a new picture lately. I'm lazy and, well, there have been those joy-sucking things.

This picture is from 2004. Austin has a art studio tour of the East Side. When we went in 2004 we visited the workshop of the guy who did our first found object musician sculpture in our backyard. (Barry George.) Inside and outside there were bits and pieces, he'd collected for his work. This pile of bits including a rusted out typewriter caught my eye.

Since last we spoke, I chased my Uncle's appetites. His surgery was canceled. He was admitted to the hospital to have an echo to look at what they suspected was a clot and was. This was disappointing because it made his surgery too dangerous. But the procedure would have been (to paraphrase the doctor) amazingly suitable to his heart problems. He had to return to his Dallas area home and try to work on a regimen to dissolve the clot. Before the gang left, though, they had to be fed. And restaurants were full of people going out before Valentine's Day. So I had to take my uncle of the appetites to the grocery store where deli fried chicken, ribs, fruit salad and ice cream were seleccted. The next day the relatives left. But within an hour or two there was a toilet flood at my dad's that soaked carpets and I got a call that my uncle left his hearing aids and they needed to be overnighted to him. I found them since I was standing there watching a water removal guy I hired suck water out of the carpet. I put them in a plastic Easter egg that was, for some reason, in my Dad's dining room with some napkin to cushion them and took them to my favorite mailing place, Beyond the Mailbox, to be overnighted.

I am thrilled for my uncle that he may get the clot dissolved, get back down here and get a procedure that will help his heart keep up with his appetite. But I'm not looking forward, honestly, to the time when they come back. I'm so selfish about my time. But as Dad says, there is always something to take the joy out of life, and it would be nice to have my uncle be able to exert himself without getting so breathless. I hope it works out. My aunt and uncle are very independent but they are getting older. And I worry about them. They maintain a home in Maine and an apartment in the Dallas area. It seems like more than they should do. And they don't have kids so it will be up to nieces and nephews to help. Which brings us to the situation FFP and I find ourselves in. We are childless. So we have to put ourselves in a situation where we can take care of ourselves or pay someone to do it. Our current dream is to spend our old age in a downtown condo where we can walk to stuff (you know if we can walk) and we don't have a yard and a roof to maintain and we have a concierge to bribe to do things. Meanwhile, though, we have these parental units in houses living independently (after a fashion). And other older relatives. I guess the good news is this: I don't have kids! If I did they would theoretically be grown and independent and helping me out. But with my luck they'd be the type who were moving home to 'find themselves' after consuming an expensive education.

Maybe I'm a cynic. I know I'm lucky. I'm retired. I have time for these things. But it is always. Something.