August 12, 2014
3:35 p.m.

I'm not having a very good day.

Actually, it started yesterday, this not very good day phase. I woke up in a state of near-tears, for no apparent reason. It was one of those days where I felt compelled to call family members and make sure everyone is okay.

I was online, not really looking for anything in particular, when a breaking news announcement appeared at the top of my page. "Robin Williams Found Dead From Apparent Suicide," it said.

"No," I whispered. Whimpered, really.

I told my son, "Robin Williams is dead."

"It's a lie," he replied, obviously shaken. "It has to be. It's a different Robin Williams."

I hoped for a hoax. You know, like all the ongoing reports of Jackie Chan's death in accidents while filming his movies. They are all over the internet all the time.

That's what it will turn out to be, I thought--hoped--prayed--as I clicked on the link to see the story.

Well, clearly I was wrong. Robin Williams is gone.

I just can't believe it. I've spent half my life saying "Shazbat" and "Nano, nano." I've stood in front of the house in Boulder that is famously called "The Mork and Mindy House." I have been entertained by this man for all of my adult life. He made me laugh. He made me cry.

He's not supposed to be gone. Not yet. And certainly not like this.

Generally, when a celebrity I am a fan of passes away, I feel saddened, but go on with my day without too much fuss.

This one has hit me so hard! And I can't stop reading everything that shows up online about him. I feel so bad for his wife, and even worse for his children. I sit here now, typing away and blotting tears off my face with a tissue.

I guess the main thing bothering me is the fact that he was ill in a way that is so hard to define. All the Coroner can do is pronounce his death was the result of suicide, but it was really the result of an illness that so few recognize or acknowledge--especially those who suffer with it.

This is not the first time I've seen the aftermath of this illness. I have friends who have lost children to it. I fear sometimes that I could lose people close to me because of it. Or they could lose me.

It digs in, you see. It moves into you slowly and starts to eat away at every pleasure. There doesn't have to be any specifically defined reason for feeling "blue"; after awhile it just feels like that's the way it has always been and always will be.

Depression builds a home within you and announces, in no uncertain terms, that it has no intention of leaving.

I understand the driving force that took Robin Williams from us; I understand it well. That feeling of: "This is never going to get better!" and "I'm too tired to fight this anymore."

But--Oh, God!--I wish he'd kept fighting. We could have had another decade or three of his wit and wisdom and wild, zany antics. Better still, HE could have had those years.

What I said first certainly sounded selfish, but what can I say? I will miss him. I will miss all the things he could have done in the future. And I know damn well that his children would have given anything to have him decide he needed to stick around awhile longer.

Depression kills. It's a sad fact.

Please, please, if you are suffering with this, don't try to tough it out. There is nothing weak in admitting that you need some help. I'm speaking from experience, hard as that is for me to admit.

So talk to someone--your spouse, your children, your parents, your doctor--anyone. You are important to many different people, even when you don't believe that you are. Let them help you find the strength to stick around. They need you.

To Robin, wherever you are--I'm so sorry. You are well loved and will be missed by so many. Depression cannot reach you now, so fly, Peter Pan. Fly.

August 9, 2014
1:39 p.m.

I finally got some sleep last night, after about three days in a row of "cat-naps" I think I may have gotten a total of six hours during those days, and last night I managed about seven! Hurray for me!

But I had the strangest dream. I mean, really strange, because it was so real. I usually don't share my dreams, but this won't seem to leave my mind, so I'm going to tell you.

I was in a huge building with a lot of people. I don't remember who they were, friends or family, but I do remember that I seemed to know them all. I remember discussing children and grandchildren.

I was nicely dressed, so it was apparently a celebration of some kind. People were mingling in small groups, sipping drinks and chatting. There were not a lot of children, but the adults were of all ages. I was laughing with a small group of women, and then told them I was going to go outdoors for a breath of air.

I turned toward the doors, glass doors in a glass wall which displayed a beautiful courtyard outside. I started up the stairs, and waiting for me there was Robert Reed, the actor who played Mike Brady on the 1970's show "The Brady Bunch".

"Hello, Paula," he said, smiling.

"Hi, 'Mike'", I replied, returning his smile, with interest added.

He threw back his head and laughed. "It never ends," he snorted, grinning.

"Hello, Robert," I relented, and he hugged me tightly. I hugged back, and it was like coming home.

One of the women I'd just left called up to me, 'You know him?"

"Of course she knows me!" Robert replied. "I'm Mike Brady! Everybody knows me."

"You remember me," I commented, loud enough for only him to hear.

"I remember you," he agreed.

Now, this is very strange, because I never met Robert Reed in my life. I did watch "The Brady Bunch" in the '70's, like everyone else I knew at that time, so of course I grew up seeing him as a father figure, but beyond that, I didn't follow his career or anything like that. At the time, I was more interested in Barry White (Greg Brady), also like other girls I knew at that time.

So why would he remember me?

"Come walk with me," Robert said, swing the door open.

"I'd love a walk," I agreed. He put his arm around my shoulder, I put mine around his waist, and we walked out into that beautiful courtyard.

There were many different kinds of trees there, and flowers of all colors. Lilac and rose bushes dotted the scenery. I braced myself for sneezing and watery eyes, possibly even an asthma attack. I wasn't carrying a bag, so no inhaler. How silly of me!

But nothing happened; my breathing was fine, and the smells were wonderful.

"I feel so good today," I said.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes."

And it really was. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, a few fair-weather cottony clouds floated passively overhead. Birds flitted between the trees and the foot-path was perfectly maintained.

We walked on for awhile. I looked over my shoulder. The building we'd left was nowhere in sight. All around us were trees, bushes, flowers and birds.

"Look," Robert said, stepping off the path. "Berries." He plucked a few off a bush and popped them in his mouth. "Mmmm. Want some?"

Of course I did. We stood there munching the most delicious berries I've ever eaten for a few minutes. I have no idea what kind of berries they were, but I wish I had some right now.

Robert offered me his arm and I took it. We returned to the path and resumed our walk. We reached a place where there were steps leading up a steep hill. I eyed them with trepidation, but I didn't want to complain about my arthritis to Robert Reed! 

We began climbing the steps. My fears, it turned out, were unfounded. My knees, ankles and back made no protest whatsoever.

(What a great dream!)

Squirrels and chipmunks scampered across the path. A doe stood staring at us from a small clearing in the trees, her fawn beside her. We continued to climb, up and up.

Robert turned to me. "So," he asked, "what do you think about closing all the zoos?"

"That's stupid!" I blurted, before I could think of how that would sound. "I mean--wow."

I stared down at me feet, watching them as they effortlessly continued mounting step after step. How was this even possible?

I looked back up at Robert. "Sometimes I open my mouth first and speak second. I don't mean I think zoos are a good thing--"

Robert grinned at me. "I know what you mean," he said.

The crazy thing is, I believed him. He did know, I know he did, but I felt a need to clarify.

"When I go to a zoo, I feel sad," I told him. "Animals don't belong in cages.  But--" I added, "no one can realistically expect to just close all the zoos and let the animals go free. It won't work."

"Because?" Robert raised his eyebrows at me, no doubt expecting me to say something brilliant.

I'm not brilliant. But I said what I think. "Because they have forgotten how to be free," I said. "They've been bred and raised in cages, fed every day by zookeepers. Some may be able to survive in the wild using their instincts--I think the reptiles would be fine--but some would just languish and die."

Robert nodded at me and opened his mouth to speak--

And I woke up! Doggone it! I want to know what he might have said next.

I also want to know where we were and where we were going. Why was I able to climb those stairs without pain or difficulty? Why wasn't I gasping and wheezing and weepy and sneezing?

I think I may have been dreaming about my death.

If that's the case, I find it interesting that Robert Reed was the one sent to fetch me.

I don't find it unbelievable or incredible. Just interesting.

Dreams are crazy things, aren't they? I mean, I've had some pretty wacky ones over the years, and some that seem prophetic in retrospect. If I die soon, does that mean I dreamed it and it came true? You'll have no way of knowing, will you? I don't think anyone living will see it if Robert Reed comes to walk me home.

I know one thing, though: I liked Robert Reed. I felt very comfortable walking through the trees with him. I liked breathing in the scents of nature without wheezing and climbing stairs with no pain. If that can be a true thing--and of course I believe it can, I must believe that, mustn't I?--then I have no fear of death.

I'm in no rush, however. I do want to stick around awhile and watch my grandchildren grow up. That would be nice.

So this was a strange post, I think.

Now I wonder about you. What are your dreams like? Do you believe they have any meaning, or are they just the brain's way of cleaning house at the end of the day?

Let me know in the comments!

Ta ta for now!

August 5, 2014
6:17 p.m.

I'm in a weird mood today. (well, weirder than usual) Although I have been sleeping a bit, I feel more tired than I usually do, and I just want to crawl back into bed.

I should preface this, I guess. I had my grandchildren over for a few days last month. (I know, I know, I gushed about this already, but I love it when they're here!) During that time, I made a big turkey dinner, because Thanksgiving can be any day all year long, and I was thankful that I had kids in my house.

While I was cleaning up and putting away leftovers, I bent into the refrigerator to put away some macaroni salad, and I felt a terrific pain in my left hip. At the same time, I heard a sharp cracking sound.

Since then, I have been in various degrees of pain. I guess I should go have an ex-ray, but I don't want to! I'm too young to break a hip! What I don't know can't hurt me. Ha ha!

It's no news to me that someone can break a hip and remain mobile--a crack in the iliac crest won't keep you from walking, but it sure will hurt when you do. (It does!)

But I'm probably just a big baby, anyway, and it's noting but more arthritis pain. I ought to be used to that by now, right?

But back to the sleep thing: I can't get comfortable, and so I'm not resting well when I actually do get to sleep. So I've been kind of sleepwalking the last few days.

I took a walk yesterday to convince myself that I could do it, and I managed it, but--wow, did I hurt afterward.  I may break down and call the doctor. Especially since I know I have her all paid off now. The joys of medical bills! What can I say?
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I have recently viewed "Game of Thrones" and got all caught up with the rest of America, so I decided I should read the books. I started on them yesterday. And I have to say: so far, so good. HBO has been very true to the story, at least up to the point I've read.

Now, my general mode of operation is to read the books first, but I've gone backward this time, and so far I've not been disappointed by either the series or the book.

So, here's my question: When I reach the point where the story left off on the HBO series, should I keep reading?

I doubt I'll be able to stop, even though that will mean I'll go into the next season of the series with all the spoilers. But what do you think? Would you stop reading so the show is a surprise every week, or would you want all the answers now? Let me know in the comments section!
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I may add to this later, but for now...good evening!

August 3, 2014
10:11 p.m.

I was just thinking that it is always so much more fun around here when I have my grandchildren. They add some life to this house! I got to have them for a few days last month, and I really didn't want them to go home!

It's always a treat for me, spending time with these little people. Although they are being raised by the same couple and in the same house, they are such distinctly different people, different from their parents and from each other. Individuality is such a wonderful thing. It amazes me to think that some societies put stock in conformity. How boring that would be!

My grandson is already a gamer. My son introduced him to video games when he was about three years old, and he took to it like a duck to water. He's now eight and is really getting a hold on his frustration levels. Being unable to master things when he was younger led to some melt-downs, but when it became clear to him that a melt-down would lead to losing his gaming time, he's learned to control himself.

My granddaughter is an avid reader, enjoying books that are well beyond what her reading level would be measured at, and for that I am so grateful. Reading is a fundamental part of life, as far as I am concerned, and it makes me so happy to see a child with a book in her hands.

They've both become enamored with Animae lately, so we enjoyed some programs while they were here. Cosplay my become a thing around here. Suddenly I wish I could sew! (Not really!!)

We spent some time at the pool while they were here, and I do wish it was warmer so I could join them. Cold water plays havoc with my arthritis.

Anyway, I'm hoping I can have them for a few more days before summer ends and they're back in school. Hint, hint, daughter of mine!
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