Whiskey and landscaping are best left separate.

On my most recent visit with my grandmother, who has had a series of strokes, fallen and broken her hip and hates convalescent care, I identified with much of the paranoia she espoused under the influence of paranoia.

I believe this phenomenon to be the effects of love because the soul within my grandmother’s tired body is very much alive in my heart and I am grateful to her for all of the work she put into raising me.

I have nothing to add to that for the moment. I’m going to come back to it.

I was successful today in opening the one of two windows in my bedroom that’s a bit tricky to open. Now not only do I feel twice as satisfied with circulation of fresh air from the property in south Seattle where I make my home behind a fire station, but I also feel better equipped to escape in the event of an emergency (as said fire department personnel might have difficulty with our address, which is a little tricky and too close to the actual station for logic to prevail).

Welcome to Ordinary Rendition. For the moment the sun is bright, the windows you know to be open, the air fresh. I am again overdue for a visit with my ailing grandmother on my mother’s side. Both my father’s parents passed by 1986, but that’s a story for another time.

I am grateful to you for reading.

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