I love Kathleen
My sister Kathleen got into town Sunday night, and my dogs are thrilled. She always brings all kinds of great treats with her, and showers Chopper and Kaley with love and affection. I think she’s trying to steal them from me, so her Jack Russell Terrier named Stella can have some nice playmates. But maybe that’s just paranoia talking.
Kathleen treats me pretty well, too. She won’t let me lift a finger to do anything the whole time she’s here. She likes to cook, clean, tidy up and reorganize stuff. The house always looks way better when she leaves than it did when she got here. And I usually feel better, too. Just now, she brought me a smoothie. Tonight she’s making grilled salmon for dinner.
She is called Kathleen only by her siblings and our friends — because that was her name in our household growing up. (My Dad had a thing about full Irish names for all the kids.) Everyone else in her world knows her as ‘Kathy’, including her husband Richie.
She has a way of making me feel good about what I get done any given day, even if I don’t do much. On Monday, for example, I was really exhausted after the radiation treatment and basically slept away the afternoon. Meanwhile, Kathleen went out to run a lot of errands. She’s getting to know her way around Orlando really well. Today, she decoded the mysteries of Bumby Street and Lake Como circle. All by herself.
Of course, if she had no choice but to walk barefoot through a field of molten lava to get to a Bed, Bath & Beyond store, she would have done that too. So Bumby street really never stood a chance.
Anyway, when she got home I told her how bad I felt being sprawled out on the sofa and not doing anything while she was out running around and doing all this stuff. She looked at me in shock when I said that.
“What do you mean you didn’t do anything?” she asked. “You SLEPT? That’s VERY important right now.”
I love Kathleen. Do you wonder why?