This Post Has No Title

Today’s going to be free writing. Feel free to write for five minutes about anything or nothing. Dump your brain. Go back to basics and let it be a true Stream of Consciousness post. I can’t wait to read what’s going on in your head…


Today it was all about the soccer. Zane had his first game this morning bright and early.  Except that it was neither bright nor all that early.  It was cloudy and cold and windy is what it was.  I should have known, considering that Friday's USA game in Colorado was played during a snowstorm.  Larry thought that it was a blizzard, but I pointed out that during a blizzard, all you would see on the television would be white.  Honestly, I felt bad for those poor Costa Ricans--not only did they lose the game, they froze their butts off.  Do they even have snow in Costa Rica?  I know that it is a place that a number of seniors are retiring to live out their days, but I'm not sure about much else.  I suppose that I need to break out the atlas.  Do they even make atlases anymore?

I'm still not exactly sure how I feel about my grandmother dying on Friday.  I'm sort of sad, but also relieved, and then I feel guilty about that.  She had dementia, caused by tiny strokes; nobody knows for sure when those started, but they took her away bit by bit.  My grandmother forgot me a long time ago.  She was the grandparent I spent the most time with growing up; my grandpa was always out working on the farm.  My dad's mom was gone before I was even born and his dad died in 1976.  So Grandma and I spent time together whenever we visited, which was every other summer when we weren't overseas.  Grandma was always trying to lose weight, so often we would walk up and down the gravel roads around the farm.  Her hair was cut short, and when she washed it, she would put it in pin curls using lots of hairpins.  She would say that she never put salt on any food, but I would watch her pour it in the cooking pot by the fistful.  She did not like snakes.  She kept the hideous afghan that I crocheted for her; my mother got it back when they sold the farm and everything on it.

She used to have a Mickey Mouse tea set from the 1930s that she played with as a child.  I played with it when I was a child.  That tea set was supposed to come to me, but one of my aunts took it, and I don't expect to ever see it again, except in my memory.  That's where I'll see my Grandma, and I'll remember her as she was before the dementia. 


This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post (in the sidebar). .
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.