Wish I had better news on this Armistice Day. This would have been my mother-in-law’s seventy-somethingth birthday. My aunt is not expected to recover from her current conditions, and doesn’t always know us when we call her. Hubby’s company announced last week that his project was being de-funded, and that they only had money through the end of the year. (But after the initial screams of terror ended, one of the big bosses explained that this means they’ve got to find venture capitalists or another entrepreneur to buy them–and they have 11 orders for their product, and it’s the only thing like it on the market, so there’s a lot of hope. The head of Bell Labs met with some investor friends of his on Monday, and since then the bosses have been acting happier.) And today we got a call from hubby’s cardiologist telling him that his elevated liver enzyme levels have not fallen (although he’s been off the statin drugs for more than a month) and that he must see our regular diagnostician and the gastroenterologist. He jumped to his usual conclusion (“I’m dying and it’s a symptom of what killed my dad”) and panicked. I think it’s probably fatty liver disease and fixable, but he’ll have to diet, and that’s always tough for him. Even though guys lose weight really fast.
But the leaves are turning, and the weather is staying cool. We’re finally moving into autumn. Thanksgiving is near. We need to think of our blessings. *I* need to concentrate on them. The road ahead is bright; these are really just a couple of potholes.