I talked with Ray yesterday. He sounded better than Barb and Jon had made him out to be; perhaps our conversations have had so many omissions for so many years now that I just couldn't tell. He was vague and abashed. Everyone said he can tell when he's having short-term memory problems, and it's true, he can. He says he noticed his hand tingling as he was walking past St. Vincent's and went to the emergency room. They only kept him one night. No one can tell me how long ago that was.
I can't tell how solid the plan to move in with his younger brother Ken is. I haven't spoken with Ken. Barb pointed out in email today that, even if they have a plan, it won't do much good if Ken up and dies. There seems to be a functional deadline of the end of the month. Ray can't fly until he gets a state ID, and that's when it's expected.
I've done a little poking around for information on rentals here. Barb seems very interested. I was afraid to even mention the possibility to Ray. Jon thought it would overwhelm him, after all the effort that's gone into convincing him to go back to California.
Meanwhile, I tried calling Nana. She refused to come to the phone. Uncle Ricky sounded depressed and angry as he told me that her palpitations have been getting worse and they're taking her to her cardiologist on Monday.
Oh, and Beaker got called away on a business trip again -- two hours between the call and when he got on a plane to California, maybe back Saturday, more likely Tuesday -- and Miss T. has a cold and is covered in horribly swollen mosquito bites, most noticeably around her eyes (think bar fight aftermath).
Tomorrow is her second birthday. For which she'll get early dropoff, late pickup, and cupcakes made from a Betty Crocker mix, all at Box-o-Tots.