I was tempted to think the letters “MC” could go in the log-book this morning, but that is absurd. This is not Mission Complete, but it is something. I couldn’t even really put the “MC” in the box until I actually get the Bluesmobile back into the lot at Big Pink, but close enough for government work, you know?
My chores- except for the long path south and east- are done. Well, if one counts the human chores, that is. The leaves are still piled up in the driveway and the place needs to be vacuumed and I never did get anything done on moving things out of the garage.
Maybe next month when I come back to assess the transition.
Raven is in his pleasant warehouse across the Bay. Mom is in her little one bedroom apartment. She seems to be doing well; lunch and dinner were pleasant, if weird. She seems to think on the one hand that everything is fine, and on the other that Potemkin Village and the World Hemingway Conference next year are part of the same MGM movie she is watching on the television in her living room.
Raven is not happy.
I took more clothes and his meds over yesterday after lunch with Big Mama. The attending nurse told me he “was doing fairly well on his first full day.”
“When did he get up?” I asked. Big Mama usually dragged him around on her schedule, or tried to, and sometimes they would sleep till noon.
“He was up walking at 6:30, and tried to escape through the glass emergency exit. He set off the alarm and we re-directed him. He was fine.”
He went into a couple other rooms, but we expect that,” said Sandy.
‘That comes as a relief,” I said. “Potemkin Village couldn’t stand his doing that. Probably should never have been there in the beginning, but how do you know these things?”
Sandy nodded and smiled kindly. “He is doing pretty good.”
He was not in his room, so after I hung up another load of his clothes in the wardrobe, he was seated in the little kitchenette next to the television room.
He was reading a recipe for pumpkin pie when I saw him, holding it as if the directions meant something. I fished my phone out of my jeans and snapped a surreptitious photo of him- last time I see him this trip.
He tried to say something, that he had made a mistake of some kind. I did not understand what he was getting at, precisely, though I think the general thrust was perfectly understandable.
I do not think he is happy, though he may come to be. It is definitely not MC just yet for him. There is some Raven left, but this is all I can do for him right now, and I am still driving away this morning.
My pals out west got hammered with a big snowfall yesterday, and the word is that winter is coming this way.
Copyright 2011 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com