This morning, wasting the first hour up, not fighting my resistance to my Artist's Way assignment (write morning pages first thing), and to meditating. I love to connect with friends on the internet over coffee. Always wanted to be able to do that. And roam around, having found again last night Yeats' Sailing to Byzantium, and the whole poem. I read it to Tom in bed, the Norton footnotes too, how Yeats developed this belief in what we could call a Pure Land, which he thought was made of art and fine craftsmanship. In this, it seems to me, he did not have the acceptance of this fine organic mess we try to cultivate, trying harder the messier it gets. It was this poem, BTW, that begins with the line "This is no country for old men." And has several other immortal phrases, too.
~~~~
Went to six-month appointment with kidney doc this afternoon. It looks very much like we can't go on with these UTIs developing ever-more resistant bacteria, so we are proceeding to talk to a surgeon again about getting the useless old bad old stupid calcified shrunken cystic kidneys taken out, on the assumption that they are harboring infection. There is a type of cystoscopy that could give more information, maybe, so we are trying to get that going. I feel optimistic about this, since it might mean I could feel more well and healthy down the road. I don't know how many surgeries I've had now, and I'm pretty blase about them.
For the appointment I decided to dress up by wearing "real shoes" instead of my Avias. This is it, folks, as dressy as it gets when you've had several stress fractures in your feet and must wear good (as opposed to pretty) shoes to protect them. The adorable Mary Janes below are leather, not mesh and rubber and a lot of engineering. The autumn leaf socks were a special touch due to by poor sock laundry management. I really need some Easter socks.
p.s. My ankles are not that fat - it's the perspective.
