Pleasant Valley Sunday? (except we're not in a valley.)

The weather gadget on my Tosh mini is telling me it's 93º F outside at 4:30 in the afternoon. I don't know about that. It feels rather hotter, and our walk was truncated by mutual agreement between me and the dog. Jeff usually just goes with what we think.

Our neighbor, Jim, was out, fully drenched in the sweat of labor, and we exchanged a bit of chatter. Jim has always liked Jeff a great deal (as most people do,) and focused the banter on Jeff as Fredfred and I attempted to hold a patch of shade.

Quirky little phenomenon, synchronicity. I actually initiated the walk, despite the heat, in an effort to budge myself from the doldrums of what has been--for me--a fairly un-busy week or so. I know, it sounds like a good thing--an un-busy week--and in a way it undoubtedly is. But I'm certain, now that I stop and think about it, that I've acquired some new habits and techniques in the face of life with Alzheimer's. And one is to get up and go, as a means of distraction.

Sometimes I say that I'm trying to distract Jeff, who by default will otherwise divide his time between sitting in a kitchen armchair, gazing placidly about the room or dozing, taking a genuine nap, or standing in the driveway, watching the world--such as it is around here--go by. But I am, to be honest, probably more interested in distracting myself from several inescapable realities--the tedium of babysitting, hunger for actual conversation, and the ever-present queasy guilt I still feel that I can't single-handedly fake a long-gone relationship which has not existed for years, and would be fake, even if I faked it.

But as for synchronicity, neighbor Jim, and the banter: I started our walk thinking I've got to get out of here...just stick Jeff in the car and take a short, overnight trip somewhere. More distraction, better distraction. Leave the girls to handle Gabe and the pets. Then we passed Jim, and exactly that topic--brief getaways--was on his mind too. He said that he and his wife, feeling a bit stir-crazy, just took a long weekend in historic Williamsburg, and it was great because they could: Talk. Reconnect. Discuss the future. Be together.

Well, Fredfred and I stood tight on our patch of shade while Jeff grinned at Jim, happy to see his friend, but processing virtually nothing of what Jim was saying. While I was thinking exactly, Jim. That's exactly what getaways used to be about, before they came to be about a change of pace for my brain, and distraction from the truth that I can do absolutely nothing for Jeff's brain, other than keep him content with nice food and pleasant scenery.

Well, I have corn to shuck--another distraction, and it's 5:00 pm--time for Jeff to have a glass of chardonnay. He finds it quite pleasant.