which was a lesson in using iPhoto, the touching-up and library-management software for pictures that comes with the Mac. Some of the things I was looking for just don't exist, but then, this whole thing was meant to be a learning experience for me, and I've already found work-arounds for some things. And, over the course of the day, I have found and deleted about 400 duplicate pictures, which was something I did want very much to do. So I'm considering the bulk of the answers for the day to be in the plus column, and I have more work to do, but I'm on top of it. All good.I did sleep marginally better last night, also good, but was unable to nap, despite lying on the couch for 45 minutes in an energy-less heap of human, until the hot flash set in and I was up in a shot, throwing off blankets and layers of clothes. So, as Vonnegut put it so well, it goes.
My allergies do seem to have finally kicked in (which is probably related to the sleep thing, too) and I've been putting eye drops in all day and generally regretting the whole tears-lubricating-the-eye protocol of human evolutionary development.
In yet another case of my mother having the last word after all, I've decided that I'd like to look up the various grave-sites of the dear departed. Why? I don't know; so posterity has some record of where they all are? Not sure. When I arrived at the cemetery early last week, I asked in the office for the location of my great-grandmother's grave -- I had visited it there as a child with my mother -- and they gave me a map and a printout (!) of the row and number, but I couldn't find it. It's close, though, so I can go back during the summer. When we go to my in-laws on Sunday, I want to ask them for the specifics of where their parents are, too. (Two Catholic cemeteries nearby, side by side, and I know that one set of parents are in each one.) I think during the summer, I'll also make the trek out to Long Island and see where my grandparents are. I'm sure I haven't been there since my grandmother died, which was in ... okay ... thinking ... 1979. That only leaves my father's parents, who I know are in the tiny Jewish cemetery in Taunton, Mass., which would be quite the trip to visit relatives who aren't even alive. I may have to write to the place and see what I can find out.
My Chum had undertaken, yet again, to plan a gathering of couples, all of whom have or have had some high school connection (most of them have one member who's a retired colleague). She does this with great joy and verve, and after all these years, simply does not get that although I like and enjoy all these people, I do not socialize well in large groups. I just don't. I'm okay with that -- thank you, therapy -- but apparently she thinks I can do it if I just push myself a little. What she doesn't get is that I don't want to push myself, and I'm 53 years old, so I don't have to do that crap anymore. I told her that I think that's the day I'm driving down to D.C. to get K, although I'm probably driving down the next day. My hearing aids aren't working too well as it is; the last thing I need is having to make actual social conversation. Pass.
My dry eye is killing me. I wish I could just go to sleep now.
