There is something off in this drawing. I can't figure it out. Usually, if I put the drawing away for a few weeks and look at it with fresh eyes, it becomes obvious. That's true with problems in general. Ah, nothing like fresh perspective.
Last night, Mom lay with her hands clenched, crossed at the wrist on her chest. Like an Egyptian mummy. She's been perspiring quite a bit but running an average temperature. She doesn't look good. I'm worried. But she continues to amaze me with her ability to pull through. If she hadn't smoked a gazillion cigarettes a day, she would have probably lived to be 150. One good thing about dementia, it makes quitting smoking easy. She tried for years to quit, then finally gave up and enjoyed smoking. When she moved in with me, I slapped on a patch and she didn't remember that she'd ever smoked.
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