Rambling on and on about nothing...

Just spent a few minutes re-reading my blog comments from you readers (NOEL!) and it refreshes my soul to know you love me. I'm still slogging through the ceiling problems with our little beach condo #305. I am astounded at how long people can drag something so simple out over time. The insurance company doesn't know what the adjuster report says, the adjuster has gone on vacation without having contacted the insurance company (or me), the board of directors on the HOA condo board consists of two guys that have been doing it for years on end...and I can't seem to get anything I've requested from them, like a current financial report, when the meetings are, who is currently listed on the membership rolls, why they haven't complied with the bylaws regarding maintenance of the property, etc, etc. I guess I should just fix the damn ceiling and hire a lawyer! Whew!, that was cleansing... Sometimes its hard to not get caught up in a spiral of distress and anger over things I have no control over. The famous words (from 'Scarlet O'Hara' after surveying the damage to her estate) "Fiddley Dee, tomorrow's another day..." or something like that, are echoing in my mind. It has been many years since I've seen the film, so long in fact I am wracking my brain trying to remember the title. Oh well, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about and I am also quite sure you will comment on this lame blog to remind me. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Actually I do, but that line also sprang to mind and I can sure see the smirk on old Bret's face as he delivered it. I suppose I'll have to go to Netflix and try to find it so I can watch it again. I'm sure if I ask Tom he'll know what I'm trying to remember. I feel as though if I just keep rambling on enough it will break through the fog of my addled brain and I will be able to recall it all on my own. . . . . Nope, all that is coming to mind is "Wuthering Heights", that's not it! I guess I'd better drop it. This is such a perfect example of what happens to my brain at such inopportune times, a forgotten name, place....wait, what was I just saying? Must be early onset dementia. Sometimes I wonder if I'll get to see my beautiful granddaughters reach full adulthood, if I'll get to see my great-granddaughter celebrate her twentieth birthday. I wonder if I'll ever be able to see my grandsons graduate from college or even high school. All of these dreams of the future are really only twenty years away, or less. That will make me 83? Or so. My own grandmother on my dad's side lived to be 87. Clara, she might have even lived longer had she not tripped over the dog that was lying on the step. She fell nearly a full flight, tumbling to the bottom and ending with a broken hip. Pneumonia developed during her hospitalization and eventually was her end. She was still living independantly above the garage at my Auntie Getha's. That old dog, Pal, was the culprit, sound asleep (probably due to her being deaf) in the stairwell, near the top step. That was on the Bell side of the family. On the Bernal side, nearly all of my ancestors were already dead before I was even born. Those guy lived fast and furiously, to hear my dad tell. During my teen years, if I slept in he would wake me with a loud "Dancey dancey, get up. You're like a Bernal, play all night and sleep all day". I don't even remember ever "playing all night" until long after I had moved out of my parent's home. There were a few years where I'm sure, if indeed the Bernals were great partiers, my Spanish forefathers were quite proud of my behavior. But that is another blog altogether. I guess I'm done.