Life right now. . .

A good friend had surgery the other day-- she had four children and she needed reconstructive surgery on THAT region. I am sorry for gushing this, but she is 70 years old, widowed and dating an awesome guy, and she told me how it would "enhance" their lives, if you catch my drift! I hope that I will be 70 years old and still having an active romance life. They live in another state and her boyfriend got a hotel room in the city near the hotel two days before and they spent fun time in the city, went on a hike, checked out some plays-- what a terrific life! When her doctor found that he had to do more, her boyfriend got the room for longer and he sits with her all the time. When this dear lady's husband was in the hospital dying, he got MRSA possible from unsanitary practices (a nurse dropped a catheter and was about to reuse it-- grrrrr-- when I was there and you wonder why I have issues with medicine!) He was allergic to shell fish so they used iodine (derived from shell fish) on him for an MRI at least once in spite of red warning stickers all over the place, he was allergic to lactose so they kept delivering him not only milk but tempting milkshakes! Anyway, her boyfriend is there to make sure nothing happens to her of that nature. If she "goes" before he does, she has made sure that her children won't leave him alone as he has no children of his own and he is divorced.

I'm excited for her-- she was locked onto the ranch that she shared with her late husband. She has no regrets, but she seldom left it as they had a bazillion horses that couldn't be left alone for more than a couple of hours. This guy takes her places-- not just fun senior citizen venues but to Rick Rockhill-type hotels and cruises. They have a blast not as "cute seniors in love" but as any other tourist paying for amazing vacations. Golden years? No! They are Gilded years! What a wonderful time for the both of them. He loves being her host and she is seeing all that she'd wanted to. Her husband was bound to his horses-- they were his art and his passion. A few months before he got sick, he'd been telling one of his daughters that he knew he'd not live for forever, but that it was killing him knowing that he needed to thin down his ranch to less horses with every new diagnosis.

My classes are crazy. I am taking an advanced writing course. It's painful. There is a huge difference between how people of science writers write and educated non-science writers write. I am a non-science writer as are my classmates. I have to read my classmate's work. IS mine painful to read? This class is like reading the garbage of tenth grade creative writing classes, only the students are on literary steroids as they have amassed better vocabularies. "Descriptive writing"-- the crap that comes of of their keyboards, the crap that we are supposed to read and must emulate, is crap! Science people are direct. I keep reading my classmates' work and I am on my computer at home yelling, "Get to the fucking point!" They are masters of run-on sentences. Am I this bad?

I have a linguistics II class. I am not a languages person. Why did I ever think I could do languages? It's too involved for the time I have.