st. betty of cartier

I just got off the phone with Betty. We became friends because of Ulysses by Tennyson. When I moved to Vancouver, she had recently embraced the line about "work of noble note" as her life's motto, and she decided I was her work of noble note. She helped me settle in the city and was my Vancouver mother-- I would have had a much different experience in Canada without her. She and my mom even became friends; they'd call each other to discuss me. Whenever I was sick, she would bring me a 2 liter Coke, several bunches of grapes, a block of cheddar cheese and echinacea pills. And, when she thought I was too stressed out she'd bring me a fifth of vodka or gin; she'd bring my roommate Kahlua. She thought our seminary profs worked us too hard. She asked, "Really, how many papers can you write?" She'd offer to have a talk with the offending professors. She was a retired nurse and wasn't much into the esoteric nonsense we messed with. Her question was always, "So what?" And, she became a die-hard Tarheel fan under my tutelage. Most of all, she'd listen to me babble on about Kate Bushnell and even ask questions; she liked Kate. What's not to miss?

We chatted for over an hour about hot weather, our gardens (five days a week she waters illegally), my sewing, our churches, her upcoming trip to England, her friend's knee replacement, another friend's camping trip, Proverbs, Corinthians, watch caps (we don't know what they are), Alaska, moving to CA (she thinks it's a good idea; go Raiders). Conversations with friend are odd because there's a transaction going on far beyond exchange of information. I can tell the subject matters without describing what transpired. I miss her, but she's buying USD for her trip to NC.

PS. My brother's visiting. We're having so much fun. My stomach is sore from laughing too much.