Difficult and crazy as she was, I miss my mother deeply. She rejected the name mother, preferring to be called Bunny, even when I was a child, She also mostly rejected the role of mother. But she was generally so much fun, it was hard to hold her craziness against her. I've given up trying to understand her, for it only makes me crazy too.
After three conversations with my car insurance agent I decided to pay (out of my pocket) the owner of the Ford pickup $558.38 for repair of his car bumper which I hit two weeks ago following being hit myself by a huge bird, probably a red tailed hawk. It was a learning experience. I was still in shock after being hit myself, and I realize now I should have stopped a while and soothed myself rather than driving on. Insurance would have paid it fully, but then if I had another accident in three years it might have gone over the limit and I would have lost my good driver discount of 20%. Its all a matter of mathematics, I guess. But at 89, will I be driving (or even breathing) in three years?
When I spoke with a local naturalist he explained that the birds of prey are fledging right now. They are huge and wobbly and don't know yet how to gauge their lift, so accidents like mine where a bird crashes into another object are common during the months of April and May.
This weekend is Open Studios up here, and along with 25 other artists I am showing my works in my home. My housekeepers are coming this morning to help set up for the show. The persimmon cookies baked yesterday are waiting on the counter for frosting, and ten volunteers from Oakmont are lined up to help me, as the rules say one should not be alone in the house. I'm excited with all the activity.
Meanwhile, covering all contingencies, my cousin Ed in Vancouver says he will sponsor me for immigration to Canada if the election goes badly, that is if I promise not to bring Trump with me.