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I biked to my favorite nursery, Swanson's, to pick up a pot so I could transplant a violet that had been crowded into a pot with another one. Observations:
Good Sister has arranged for nurses to visit Mom daily to make sure she's taking her meds, breathing, and other important activities. I don't recall her discussing this before she did it, and I can only assume she's paying for it out of Mom's assets, but gift horses. This is a very good thing, and uncharacteristically by recent standards, Mom isn't being a whiny old bat about it.
- I now have fourteen (14) African violets in my one-bedroom Devil Girl Pad of 550 square feet (51 square meters). I don't have some kind of violet problem. Really. They just grow and fill up pots.
- Swanson's was super sharp about requiring appointments, making sure not too many people were in the (big) store, putting tape on the floor, and unusually for stores, they had their card processing terminals several feet from the cash registers. I'll tell you what, I didn't see a customer without a mask. I wish every store was like Swanson's.
- Nobody in Swanson's said anything about my SFDs: Pride/stars-and-stripes leggings, sports bra, beat-up running shoes, navy bandana on face.
- It takes me just over half an hour on FM bike to get from my place to Swanson's, even though Phinney Ridge is murder and some of the arterials are scary enough for a cyclist that I - legally in Seattle - hit the the sidewalks.
Good Sister has arranged for nurses to visit Mom daily to make sure she's taking her meds, breathing, and other important activities. I don't recall her discussing this before she did it, and I can only assume she's paying for it out of Mom's assets, but gift horses. This is a very good thing, and uncharacteristically by recent standards, Mom isn't being a whiny old bat about it.
