February 17, 2026

Various hours, various days. Phlebitis hit. I was able to fend off the great sickness, though my left leg is pink and itchy (no heat though, which is encouraging). The pills still amaze me. I rose in the night at the brink of unbearable pain, took the pills, and the next time I woke all was almost well. I think of my mother with the same affliction and, through most of her life, no antibiotics. Several things that were wrong with me and I blamed on something else seem to be related to the attack. It is always thus; I never remember. 

AVLGMC meeting here last night. It veers further and further from anything I recognize, anything I want to be part of, and yet I stick with it because what unfolds has interest of its own, and the companionship is fun. Thomas’ Uber came early, so he had to heat his frozen burritos in my microwave. B’s mania for control would be alarming if it were exercised on anything of more consequence than a men’s chorus. 

Strove to bring the pond out of winter torpor. Had to put my garden hose back together before I could. The solar panel guy had unscrewed the hose from the wall and the two bits of hose from each other, leaving me to put it back together, for reason’s unfathomable. All workmen detach the hose from the outlet, and I never know why. Something they teach in workman school and keep from the rest of us? L detached the hose when he came to give me an estimate on a deck. Really? It’s an issue to me because my threads are ancient, my wrench the wrong size, and to get an unleaking fit takes a deal of labor. I want to stand in the yard and say, “Do not unscrew the hose, though every fiber of your being commands you to do so!”

I discovered the magical principle that lures bluebirds to my yard. 

No music on Ash Wednesday. Things fall apart. 

Jesse Jackson is dead.