Sunday: Mass at my new parish (St. Julie’s – isn’t that great?) which just may be the friendliest, most hospitable parish to which I’ve ever been.

Monday: I don’t remember Monday. What happened on or to Monday?

Tuesday: Mom’s chemo (Taxol/Carboplatin) during which an allergic reaction (itchy hands) becomes the harbinger of another new chemo (the fourth) come the week after next.

Wednesday: BAD day energy-wise for Mom-o.  I got my "office" more organized while she took four naps.  Yard work, paper work, grocery shopping, etc.

Thursday: Great day for Mom-o; CT scan, chest x-ray, lunch at Red Lobster (Mom LOVES shrimp,) and a Trader Joe’s run (I LOVE ginger Joe-Jo’s,)  House de-flea’d while we were out.  In the evening I was finally able to transplant two rose bushes from next door which I hope will really come up.  Their names: Sweet Inspiration and Intrigue. 

Friday
– Mom learns she needs cataract surgery.  And is greatly encouraged as she’ll be able to see (this also explains why it’s taken her 3 weeks to not finish the new Sue Grafton novel.)

Favorite line from the review of that new movie I’m not going to see: "When a cryptographer and a symbologist get together, it usually ends in tears."  Favorite analysis of the "prose" style of Mr. Brown. Sample:

Brown’s writing is not just bad; it is staggeringly, clumsily,
thoughtlessly, almost ingeniously bad.  In some passages scarcely a   
word or phrase seems to have been carefully selected or compared with
alternatives.  I slogged through 454 pages of this syntactic swill, and
it never gets much better.               
Why did I keep reading?  Because London Heathrow is a long way from San Francisco International,   
and airline magazines are thin, and two-month-old Hollywood drivel on a small
screen hanging two seats in front of my row did not appeal, that’s why.
And why did I keep the book instead of dropping it into a Heathrow
trash bin?  Because it seemed to me to be such a fund of lessons
in how not to write.

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