March blew in...

Susan Branch calendar

It's been an eventful week, and not all in a good way.

My last day at work was supposed to be February 29th, but something came up at the last minute, and my boss asked if I would mind staying another two days. Of course!

Early crocuses. Aren't they dear?

On Friday afternoon, my boss was in the office, so we had a lovely talk about what the last three years has meant for each of us. I offered to turn in my key, or did he want me to keep it for the occasional re-entry to do some mundane office tasks for him. And what about my email: did he want me to set it to forward to him, or I wouldn't mind checking it daily and sending on anything that might come in that he would need. At the end of my several suggestions about how to handle this or that in the wrapping up, he said, "I don't want anything to change." That makes it easier! So - I'll be available when he has the occasional need for some clerical help, or until I find another job that will keep me from being on call now and then. I left feeling good about being able to be a support to him in some small way and with the hope that his business picks up again. More for his sake than for mine; it's very disheartening to him that business is so down right now. Ironic, because during the worst of the economic recession, he was very busy. And now that things are picking up elsewhere, he's not seeing it.

Saturday I had to go to the post office to pick up a registered letter, which turned out to be from the day program G attends three days a week. A letter informing me that March 15th will be G's last day there. No prior warning. Out of the blue. It's a long story which I may tell later, but I made the mistake of opening the letter and reading it while I was still at the counter, waiting for change for my stamp purchase, and I burst into tears. Not my usual style, in public or not. I feel, at the moment, as though I've been punched in the stomach. It's unjust, to say nothing of unprofessional.

Oscar's rubber chicken, with his head under the oven.
This is how I found him Saturday night, and I know how he feels.
Luckily, it's not fatal.

Sunday after church I had planned to meet two of my caregiver friends and best advisers for lunch, and the timing was perfect: I got wonderful sympathy and practical advice from them on this latest development. Find a new day program for G, and after he is settled, deal with the way this was handled and the assorted problems that have plagued us since G started there last June. I'm still reeling from this change, but this morning I visited a potential location (much farther from our house, as are all the other options) and hope to visit another one tomorrow.

Sunday evening my parents were here for a bean soup dinner; my mom brought the salad and her wonderful oatmeal cookies, and besides the soup and bread, I made cranberry and ruby red grapefruit compote. Really yummy, from EatingWell.com. Lots of good conversation.

Cranberry and ruby red grapefruit compote

In a few minutes, I'm going to my friend and neighbor's for lunch with her and another neighbor, so that should be fun. I'm taking some freshly cut pussy willows for them.