The air is thick. The light breeze is juicy with the sweat of summer. How quickly the clouds form and the thunder rumbles warn us. The birds cry. They are telling the rest of their flock to be aware that soon the damp earth will yield the crawling worms they like to feast on. It is a quick attack. It sweeps over us with menace and leaves us in peace. Soon the clouds linger and the thick air wraps us in its arms. We can hear few rumbles off in the distance as the danger retreats. We are left with the air cleansed. The tires of the few cars, that are in the streets these days, hiss through the wet pavement. The rain will cause the lawnmower engine sounds in the coming days, flowers in the fields to grow, and salad greens in the garden to prosper. Still, we must fear the sickness.
It appears there is a tradition in the radiology department at Ascension Hospital that patients, upon completing their course of treatment, ring a bell. ( We know not for whom this bell tolls.) Ring the Bell with My Sweetheart Jeanne. Jeanne drove me to all but two of the appointments. Pam Frautchi took me to the other two. Today, after being zapped thirty-two times, I rang the bell. This begins a roughly one-month recovery period where the effects of the radiation abate and, I'm assured, a return to normalcy occurs. In my case, I anticipate more energy and greater awareness. Books, Books, & More Books I am simultaneously celebrating the end of the third year of volunteering for the All Saints Hunger Book Sale. Next week, we will wrap up the preparation for the sale and open our doors on August 3 for the public. I ran into this humourous but quite accurate cartoon on a T-Shirt that shows most of the volunteer's sentiments at this point. If you think the printed and bound p...
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