Want to jot a few things down, disjointed things.  

Have been thinking about my 'religion'.  I used to be on a spiritual quest.  I read and pondered and practiced and longed for some kind of breakthrough, some kind of knowing, some sign I was on the right track.  This morning I realized I no longer yearn for anything.  My 'religion' has been distilled into one word:  gratitude.  Each morning, each morsel, each shot of beauty, each piece of music, each remembering something I was supposed to remember, each parking spot in the shade, each stubbed toe to make me slow down, all of it all the time, but most of all, just being here.  And maybe that's all it is.  If I am grateful I am in the present.  I don't wish for something to be other than it is.  I am grounded in this moment, this being-ness - and because I am not longing for this or remembering that I am anchored in the now.  And when I am fully in the now, my borders tend to dissolve - and there's my 'religion'. 

Now, back to nuts and bolts.  Yesterday a pretty crappy one with Richard.  He was in the grips of LBD, not present, incommunicado for the most part.  He smelled.  He'd been showered and shaved, which doesn't mean he hadn't had an accident.  Usually he says he has to go but he was so out of it yesterday it probably wouldn't have occurred to him.  

Today he was more himself, complained I hadn't come to see him yesterday.  Still, those days like yesterday are preparation for what's to come.  He wanted to come home with me.  Every time I leave him (and I leave him at lunchtime to make the parting a normal transition form 'visit' to 'lunch') I revel in my release.  No matter how nice it is - it's still prison.  He is wheeled out of his room, forced to join the others for a game of 'golf' or word play or whatever else they have going on.  If he was compos mentis and mobile he could choose.  In his state he doesn't get to choose.  

Yet I am so happy he is there even while I hate it.  He is safe, well fed and clean.  They use the hoist for bathing and toileting.  He is too far 'gone' to be trusted with a walker.  No way could I look after him now, even with help.  I've had people tell me how good I look.  I think it's because when I sleep I actually sleep.

The book is coming along slowly.  Finally began writing new stuff.  Have sent 15 chapters to Fiona.  Gulp.  Have made a schedule to ensure I write every day.  Lunch, make coffee, in here by 1pm to try and write 500 words.  

So best get to it.