I have this new gesture, the windshield affect. One can wave one’s hand in front of someone’s eyes and they won’t blink.

The Vet that gave me back Liam had that windshield affect...one could wave one’s hand in front of her and she wouldn’t blink. The technician also had it as she showed me how to put stuff up Liam’s nose...in the cage. Neither had put the cat on the floor. If they had, they would have realized that he couldn’t walk...that he was dying...Your cat’s a bit wobbly – don’t let him near the stairs.

The man that I work for might have it. He admitted to me that next week would be the first time he would actually go to an Adult Ed center...these are the people he’s writing the books for. I’ve never actually seen his eyes so I don’t know.

The chair of the group I volunteer for has it...they stare straight ahead no matter what...so she writes about a meeting. I write to say if she needs me I’ll come for comic relief. She phones after the meeting to say...why weren’t you there? I say: You didn’t respond so I assumed you didn’t need me.

The Korean mom below me has it as I try to explain to her that her son can’t play the drums in my bedroom at ten at night and perhaps she should move them to another room and she says: But that’s where I sleep.

My other vet has it was she tries to think of another test she might use. I guess that’s it...the lack of ability to see the problem. Take his temperature...but it might be...take his temperature...but perhaps we should...

One could wave one’s hands slowly or desperately in front of their eyes and they wouldn’t blink.

It’s a lack of problem solving.

I’ve been gathering examples...

You’re never going to kill story telling because it’s built into the human plan. We come with it. Margaret Atwood

Some birthdays are never forgotten. Grannie's birthday was January 25, Robbie Burns' day! And her favourite flower - a sample of which fell out of her books? Queen Anne's lace!

I’ve never killed a man but I’ve read many an obituary with a great deal of satisfaction. Mark Twain

If I start checking my entries I might find repetitions but that would stop me from my goal...I want to make 365 entries this year...it is a matter of discipline. I was watching the women's march and thinking about the power...
I think back to the Montreal Women's Symphony. I wrote to a friend about the event: what I would have said to all of them was you should have come just to find out what these women did. Not as advancing the cause of women – that wasn’t their goal –but to follow their passions...they found out they could do
whatever they wanted! Stark put together this higglety pigglety orchestra in ten weeks with women who had never played those instruments before...You
want to play? We’ll play.

I just read a book called The Angle of Repose. The angle of repose or the critical angle of repose or granular material is the steepest angle or descent or dip relative to the horizontal plane to which a material can be piled without slumping. It's the idea of how high can one pile the sand before it falls down. The author uses the concept to explain how far the character can be pushed before he crumbles. One has to hold on to the angle of repose. That is the moment before everything crumbles.

I have a stunning memory for stories. I may not remember what i did yesterday but I remember people's stories. I was with a friend last week and remembered the story he told me of his grandmother thirty years ago. I still use his story of going in to
call his grandmother for supper and finding her with a nylon stocking wrapped around her neck like a scarf shouting at the moon: It's not true!
The first part Mike figured out - astronauts had just landed on the moon and his grandmother was protesting. No big deal.
"But why do you have a nylon wrapped around your neck?" he asked.
"Oh that," she replied, "I've had that on for a week. I was waiting for someone to notice..."