Back Problems; Buffet; Shared Trust

Mother's back problem appears to be slighly better. It's really hard to tell because her level of complaining never dips below a certain baseline. I have to ask very specific questions, else I'll get, "Oh, I feel terrible!"

Yesterday, I thought of trying Ben Gay, which she says gives her some relief. I also thought of trying a thermal patch which in this case is similiar to a girdle. But she used it a couple of times and said it was too much trouble.

I've slowly been able to lessen the sleeping medication. There were periods in which she was taking a sleeping pill, a pain pill, a muscle relaxant, and a couple of other items. But if she doesn't go to sleep in 15 minutes, she wants something else. Which I can not and will not give her. I've learned to note when she is obviously over-sedated. Which can lead to all kinds of problems.

The buffet has a number of paintings that you'd expect to see in a buffet; they're so nondescript, I'm not even sure I have a clear image of them - dark, forest scenes I think. But then there are several glorious watercolors of flowers that are remarkable. But they're hidden away. Two are across from the entrance to the men's room, and everytime I come out I marvel at them. Another is tucked way away in the smoking section. And I only noticed it the other day.

Sundays are their busiest day. There are churches who bring half the congregation there for a communal meal. Of all the institutions in the world, none are more marked by lines of race, culture, color, ethnicity, power, money and social prestige than religious ceremonies. So frequently I find myself in the lapsed Catholic, lapsed Episcopalian, former Metropolitian Community Church member section reading "The New Yorker." Yet I feel no sense of loss. But what I notice the most is the physical playfulness of fathers and sons. Shared moments of emotional intimacy and trust.

PAX!