There is one thing I can do... when I am over 75, and should I start showing dementia, then I could move into a retirement home with memory care. The husband would have to catch up. I don't want to burden him with caring for me. 

While that's not a particularly deep thought, it does give me a little comfort. 

Bathwater writes....
> Both my parents died within a year of becoming ill. I hope that is the way I go.

I hope that for myself as well. It's not something I have control over. I have seen people who have died quickly after their decline started. I've also seen the process take years. This is all complicated if the person isn't in constant pain. 

I'm not sure how death-with-dignity, assisted suicide, would work. My mother has had Alzheimers for years. I have an aunt who is basically a vegetable and has been so for months. They are not suffering. They don't, (can't!) realize they are burden to others.

For me to decide on a death-with-dignity, I'd have to be 75+ years old and still mentally fit, but seeing the first signs of dementia. I'm not sure I could make that choice.

After a whirlwind trip through Toronto, we are back in Seattle.

In Toronto, we hung out with my friends, saw "Mean Girls," toured museums and ate too much.

Of course my friends have their own life challenges. We all have aging parents, some of whom also have dementia. One couple has an autistic child who can be a handful. 

These eastern Ontario farmers can be fiercely independent and frugal. Often to a fault. I've seen them bring their own cookies to a coffee shop.

To be this frugal, they learn to be a jack of all trades. Sometimes they must be a vet. Sometimes a mechanic or welder. Sometimes a builder, a carpenter or plumber. As a kid I remember being in awe of the breadth of their knowledge. 

At my parents home there is a sink in the laundry room. The drain has developed a small leak. This is not an emergency, but it must be dealt with. This morning, Dad and I took a look at it.

Dad pulled back the sink so we see the drain better. What I saw made me ill. Generations of farmers have been too frugal, have been hacking at that drain connection. It was a Frankenstein of different pipes, fittings and flanges. 

We discussed how to fix the leak. I suggested we remove and replace a few more of the pipes so that we could start with something new and predictable. There are so many joints under that sink that if we don't get it just right, then another leak would open up nearby. Dad pointed out that if we started down that path, then there would be no end in site. He called it Mickey-Mouse plumbing. The house is full of it. He found it best to leave it alone as much as possible.

And so we are building yet another pipe-flange-fitting combo. We will add it on to the rest of the beast that is this house's plumbing. 

As it turns out, dad has a closet dedicated to plumbing odds and ends-- little bits of pipes each of a slightly different diameter, different kinds of seals and sealants and the tools needed to adapt all this to fix the leak-du-jour. 

Fiercely independent and frugal. Often to a fault.

The uncles and aunts are getting old. My parents are on the younger side-- 78. My oldest uncle is 91.

Another uncle has cancer. It has spread through his system. This uncle is 87. Independent of his diagnosis, he had just been accepted to a retirement home. He must still shut down and sell his current home.

My mother-- what about my mother. She has memory issues. She has Alzheimer's. She had cancer. Perhaps she is over the the cancer. The last scan was good.

And she has energy and is so very cheerful. She can't be left alone. She likes to talk, reciting the same stories over and over-- repeatedly asking the same question.  And she is so very cheerful. 

When I am at their home, I will spend time with mom while dad does errands around their property. If mom is not around dad for long, then she will wonder where he is, and eventually will decide to go out and look for him. I can gently talk to her, reminder her that dad will be back in a few minutes. She doesn't need to go out to find him.

And dad-- he has an encyclopedic knowledge of the local map.  Who owns what property. Who owned it it before. How well each property is taken care of.

The GPS and map on my phone work well here. Still when I'm going someplace, dad insists on giving me the directions with color commentary.

I am visiting my parents, deep in the farm country of eastern Ontario. It's the 70th anniversary of our church. A few extra people are in town to celebrate. 

After church, at coffee, we were sharing stories of old members. WJ reminded us of NV.

NV was a simple farmer. "He talked like a lawyer but dressed like Tom Sawyer" I had to google that line. It sounds too pithy to be original, but it perhaps it is. 

NV lived in a house without power. Or water. He would take his baths outside. Mostly so he didn't have to clean inside. 

Even in the bath, he would keep a gun by his side. You never know when you will need a gun. 

For an alarm, NV had two loud and angry geese named Pontious and Pilot. 

NV didn't like the neighbor's dog. When Pontious or Pilot warned him of the dog's approach, he would scare the dog off by shooting at it. 

One day a bullet hit the dog's snout!  The dog was otherwise fine. 

The next winter, when the dog was running through NV's yard, NV could see the dog's breath. But he could also see some of the breath going up! Through the bullet hole!

The table had a good laugh when we heard that story. Now, when I write it down, I feel something more. Perhaps concern. Perhaps disconnection. 

The elder people here live very simple,  independent, self-reliant lives. They love that. It's very different than how I live. Sometimes it's difficult for me to relate. Around here, they believe they need guns. 

Now if I took pot shots at the neighbor's dog...

I was at the dentists office yesterday for a regular checkup. While I was in the chair, I noticed that they were playing 80s Heavy Metal office wide as the background music. One example-- AC DC's Highway To Hell. It wasn't a Muzak instrumental version. It was the original version.

How did that happen? When did we decide that old Heavy Metal is now safe office music. Or maybe it's always been that way. In 25 years today's risqué music will be heard, unedited, in elevators everywhere.

The husband is taking a hard look at his career. His company has just gone through a large reorg with many job cuts. He is very uncertain about his new job and his new manager. He is pretty sure that he could  earn another $30K or $40K at a different company. 

He has traveled to Dallas this week for internal meetings. He is having good talks with his new manager.

C2 and I had dinner last night. Over dinner he mentioned that he had to "be on" when we have dinner together-- be a nicer person-- be a little more talkative. Sometimes he just wants to hang out with someone and not talk about things, or be nice.

Late on, I told the husband this. He laughed a little.

From that point of view, the husband is the opposite of C2. The husband is uncomfortable when he's around people and they aren't talking to each other. 

Good for you! I have to admit I still have Instagram and TikTok, but I try to minimize the amount of time I spend on them.

I could never get into TikTok. It makes me feel like I'm watching someone else channel surf.

I've tried minimizing the amount of time I spend on social media. That doesn't work for me. I keep finding reasons to stay on a little longer.

I have uninstalled Twitter, Facebook, Instagram & Reddit. 

I have started using Mastodon. I'm not sure I'm going to stick with it. It's a bit chaotic. 

Getting off of social media is as much about me trying to reclaim some time in my day than it is a political statement about Musk or Zuckerberg. Thought that did help. Their recent flare ups have caused me to ask "Where am I spending my time? How can I better do so?"

I am blogging a bit more. Though those have been very matter-of-fact. I am also reading more. 

Pulling up Facebook or Twitter is a very strong habit. Even a week after removing their apps, I regularly take out my phone and go to the spot where their icons once sat. Now I stare at the blank space and contemplate what to do next.

We've put up our indoor Christmas decorations-- our Christmas tree, wreaths and a nativity scene. We are traveling a bit in the next few weeks, so this weekend was as good as any. 

Saturday we attended a sober, Drag Queen Bingo fundraiser. It was good. I won a gift card.

We also saw the Planter's NUTMOBILE.  Somehow they got word of the fundraiser and so they showed up. We talked to the drivers for a while. It's an interesting job. They are friends with the folks who run Oscar Mayer's Weinermobile.

Sunday evening was cut short. The husband was originally going to travel for work on Monday. His flight was canceled. He ended up leaving late Sunday.

The cousins are off. They have flown back to England. Our home is back to its usual self. 

The weather is thoroughly fall now. Rain. Cool. In small talk, people are commenting how rapidly it changed. One day we had summer weather. The next day it was fall. 

We are discussing putting up Christmas this weekend. We are traveling to Ontario for the last two weeks of November. So next weekend will be the last weekend we can do it, unless we want to put it up late.

Christmas decorations please the husband.