From frosted brown glasses to brass ...

Yesterday I went to spend the afternoon with my grandpa. I usually stop in whenever I find a free chunk of time and therefore almost always arrive unannounced. When he opened the door he looked frazzled and was not wearing his standard long-sleeved dress shirt ... Just his pants and suspenders. I felt uncomfortable, and scared. We expect that things that have been the same for as long as we can remember will continue to be the same forever. Even though they have been changing right before our eyes ... We don't see it. My grandpa is old. His once strong body has weakened. His skin does not heal. He does not stop bleeding like he used to ... The reason I found him uncharacteristicly shirtless. He had been to get his blood taken and bled through the cotton all over his shirt and hanker-chief. My grandparents have been such a huge part of my life ... I don't want to imagine it without all of them.

Grandpa invited me out for dinner to the Ogden "Working Man's Restaurant" ... Don't know the real name so much. We walked in and sure enough there were three men sitting by themselves eating the Wednesday special (at least that is what they were eating in my world). I don't think there are too many of these restaurants left in Calgary ... Or maybe just not in the areas that I usually end up in. I liked it, the feel of it, the community of it. The food? Ummmm Yeah, not the best ... But I was glad that for that night my grandpa was not one of the men eating alone. I could feel his pride. He smiled under his hat as he tipped the smiling older Asian waitress an extra .25 cents. I always lift his hat and kiss him on the forehead.

Quite different from where I had lunch today. Yummy East Indian Buffet ... I am salivating just thinking about it. I went with my friend and coworker Kate. She is my mentor and someone I really respect and love being around. She is hilarious and has a heart of gold. We talked a lot about being real, living in the moment, and being grateful for the health and blessings that we have. I have been feeling off since I got back ... Kind of anti-social and agitated. I think it may have something to do with questioning who I really am. Who was the girl that was manic ... She was me ... She still had my heart and my spirit. How can one heart and one spirit be totally different people. Is the real me somewhere in the middle. Is who we are really dependent on the activity of neurotransmitters or do we have a core essence. Stripped from all the stuff of life ... Who am I? And why have I been procrastinating thinking this one through?