Yes, I see wonderful things!

It was November 26, 1922 (the year my mother was born, praise the Lord) and British archeologist Howard Carter stood in Egypt peeking into a "tiny breech in the top left hand corner" of a doorway his water carrier had discovered. The little party of observers gathered around and his patron and underwriter asked if he saw anything. "Yes," Carter famously said. "I see wonderful things."

Carter, in deference to his patron, had wired the man on November 4, and waited until he arrived before proceeding into what we now know as the tomb of King Tut. Read my daughter's FASCINATING blogpost about the new discoveries about Tut.

When I came home from my painting class I was too tired to make popcorn as I wound down by answering emails and reading the Times. Don't worry, I stuffed myself with other healthy snacks including these fabulous wine-tasting purple grapes imported from Chile.

Jack Fanelli's father died suddenly at age 85, keeling over from a massive heart attack in his kitchen. Who will bake me homemade pizelles? His passing reminds us yet again of the fickleness of death. When? Thus it was that as I walked yesterday, for example thru the driveway of the Abington Fire Department, I thought what if I suddenly drop dead here in the fire department driveway and block the fire engines.

As I strode into Abington Hospital I saw my former psychiatrist.

"Hey, Lare!" I called, cupping my mouth in whisper-like formation.

He looked up. He's gotten more stooped over.

"My bipolar is totally gone. No meds. What dyou think of that?"

He looked at me quizzically, arms at his side, no papers in his hands.

"I hope it stays gone," he said.

We couldn't wait to get away from each other. I like the guy but he ruined my kidneys by not telling me until they were on their way out.

When Scott came over to say hello this a.m. he immediately saw the painting I did in last nite's class. I'd taken a dried stalk of blue hydrangea from my garden and painted it.

Scott liked it. "It's my surprise Valentine gift for you," I said. "My teacher said I have a good eye for composition."

Scott asked why I chose golden yellow for the background upon which to put the purple hydrangea. "I asked my teacher what color to use," I said. "I ask him everything."

Chris Hall said to use a complementary color as background. I carefully slapped on the yellow-gold, made from three colors, it's a gorgeous gold like Van Gogh's sunflowers, and goes great with the purple hydrangea. Since Chris wasn't familiar with hydrangea, I said, "They were featured in the Manchurian Candidate."

Gee, I was glad my blood-flow opened up into that Classic Movie Category.

Chris told me I had too much paint on my brush, that you can't draw a clean line with so much paint. He wiped it off on my rag, a bright-orange Congressman Allyson Schwartz t-shirt before I quit my job as Senator from Indiana cuz I couldn't stand the dysfunctional political shenanigans of a nation in crisis. It makes me wanna vomit my guts out.

We never forget the words of our teachers. That includes my dtr/law "Miss Toohey" as they call her in the inner city school in which she teaches. I communicate with her thru Facebook.

Meet people where they are.

A man in my painting class is familiar with chiropractic. See my post below. Sam's son Eric (all names fake) saw a chiropractor who worked on his bad back and his neck. The young man "saw stars" one time after the kiro adjusted his neck. He told the man (I refuse to use the word doctor when talking about kiros) but the man ignored Eric's feedback.

During his next chiropractic adjustment, the kiro wrung his neck again like a chicken, this time causing Eric to have a stroke. He's currently in rehab at Moss Rehab.

I have my front door open so the light can flood into the living room.

Finished Franny and Zooey last nite. At the point where I saw there was only a page and a half left, I slowed down my reading, we were coming to the denouement, and suddenly I began to get chills from what Buddy was telling Franny. Even now, the chills come as I remember.

In essence, said Buddy, in essence, we are all of us The Fat Lady to whom we commend our lives, and who dyou think the Fat Lady is? Why, she is Jesus Christ Our Lord and Saviour.

Quick note. Someone called me yesterday with a bipolar question. She found me thru this very same blog. Where's my phone no. on here? Dunno. Anyway, she said she wanted to talk to me since I talk about God all the time.

Isn't that interesting? And I'm a Jewish nonbeliever!