Last night I was a banjo player, this morning a dog walker and homemaker. At the moment I'm blogging away on my home computer and in a matter of hours I'll be in Pennsylvania with Dad. It would appear that I slip in and out of these roles rather easily considering the time factor, but I have way too much overlap between transitions. Were that not the case, I would have been on the road hours ago. Instead, "Road Joan" has to reconcile herself with "Home Joan" and attend to important tasks like cleaning the lime buildup on the kitchen faucet and laundering two pairs of underwear and three pairs of socks. Gotta have that closure, or these things will tug at my brain like a three year old on a shirttail. Have I mentioned that I'm a bit anal?
Punctuality has never been my forte. My mother always said, "You'll be late for your own funeral." She was one to talk. She rarely made it in time to catch the beginning of a movie. The ticket booth attendant, concerned about her blood pressure as she barrelled into the theater, took the pressure off by allowing her to come in and see the start of the next screening. Of course, this allowed for a little mall prowling and dysfunctional purchases, but that's fodder for another blog.
As I wait for my laundry to dry and decide which 15 shirts I will take for a two day trip, I'm afraid I will have to wind up this entry. My visits to my father have been dictated by a very loose schedule (mine) and it's been of no particular consequence if I arrive 7 hours late. This time, however, I need to help him change the Fentanyl patch which delivers a steady narcotic to ease his pain. His macular degeneration makes the simplest tasks monumentally difficult, and believe me, whoever designed the patch and its packaging is a little out of the visual impairment loop.
I will apologize in advance for the absence of blogs over the next few days; I am about to enter The Land that Technology Forgot and will not have access to a computer. A cordless phone and an answering machine are about the only devices which date Dad's house past 1977. He has been making some noise about getting a flat screen TV to "enjoy whatever time I have left". I'll keep you posted on that saga.
So "Road Joan" is about to give "Packing Joan" a kick in the keister and get the next carnival started. Well, she better do it soon-I feel another hat coming on.
Photo: After mom passed away and I went through the closets and closets of clothing, I began to pay irreverant homage to her by photographing Grace in her outfits. I can imagine Mom looking at this photo and saying, "That hat is a real gasser."
Originally from Pennsylvania, I graduated from Penn State University with a degree in printmaking. And so I waitressed-first in my hometown and then at the Plaza Hotel in New York City. I now live in upstate New York with my husband and dog, play bluegrass music and work on my photography skills. I also spend inordinate amounts of time in the gym to ward off middle age as it nips me in the behind.