Forward Motion

Wart Hog Dollar Store and the Clown Motel

2010-10-10T19:27:00.002-05:00

Driving up route 95 north of Las Vegas was one of the prettiest rides I had taken in a long time. It sure is nice to have a job where I get paid to tour the country. In the mix of beautiful sights I also see some very interesting things. I saw some signs warning me that there might be cows and bulls crossing the road. Why? Because cows free-range out there, no fences anywhere except around Area 51, the secret government base where they hide aliens or what-ever they do there that we-the-people can't know about. I was in a mini-market standing in line while a tourist asked the clerk some questions. I overheard the clerk telling the tourist that at Area 51 he needed to stay out of the desert because the guards would chase him out with big guns. I guess that's good information to have.. I didn't see any guards or aliens or even an UFO. Darn my luck!

I had been driving for about 500 miles and started thinking about where I wanted to spend the night. I got the map out and decided I would try the town of Toponah, Nevada. Many of those towns along the mountain route were old gold, silver or copper mining towns, maybe I could get a motel and be a tourist for a day.

I drove another 150 miles and entered the little town of Toponah, I knew I was nearing the town because the speed limit signs asked me to slow down, from 70 to 65, from 65 to 45, then 35 and finally 25. I gladly obeyed, there was so much to see..

"Welcome to Toponah" the sign said. "Thank you", I said. I noticed a small sign on the right that beckoned me to 'get my gold weighed here'. No thanks, I don't have any today. I saw a McDonalds. 'Oh, a modern town', I thought. On my left was a block building, no bigger that a two car garage, which is what it probably started out to be before it became the "Wart-Hog Dollar Store". I passed by it, didn't need to spend a dollar at that time.

Moving on, I came into the downtown area. To my right was the tallest building in town, about 5 stories, way up in the sky, and etched into the false front at the top, way up in the sky, were the words 'First Bank of Toponah, 1907'. It was made out of hand-hewn sandstone blocks. Neat. Next block down and across the street was a similar building, only 3 stories high, labeled "Hotel and Saloon". The sign was wood and the paint was fading. The building was empty and boarded up.

A block or so later I left the 'downtown' area and found a motel on the left, named "the Clown Motel". There were gaudy paintings of huge pink clowns all over the building and on the sign. Yikes. I wondered several things about this strange apparition on the outskirts of Toponah.

First: Who the HECK would stay in a Clown Motel? Don't people KNOW that clowns are evil?
Second: I wonder what the decor is inside? Clown sheets and pillow cases? 'Come, my dear, lay your head here'. No Thank You! I would rather sleep leaning on the wall. But wait, they probably had clown wall paper, clowns every where, just waiting for you to get close enough to grab you.

What about the bathroom in the Clown Motel? What kind of motif could they possibly have? Clown towels? Clown noses, hands and eyes for faucets and door knobs? Oh, and the toilet, think about it, a huge clown mouth for a toilet seat. "Come my dear, sit here".

No thank you, I'm really in the mood to go squat under a bush and risk making a scorpion or a rattle snake mad when I pee on them.

I decided that Toponah wasn't a safe town to stay in, clowns could get loose and run amok during the night, then who knows what kind of things could happen.

I left that town, and drove another 100 miles to the next town. I found a safe place to sleep there, hoping the clowns stayed in Toponah!

Hauntings

2010-10-02T01:36:00.002-05:00

I spend a lot of time behind the wheel, riding up and down the road, thinking, about the future, my next exit, the past, and where I can stop to do the potty thing. I was thinking about the guy who wants to buy my house the other day and what kind of 'disclosures' I'm obligated to pass on to him and his wife.

I had gotten an Email from LegalZoom which by strange coincidence contained an article about home sales and disclosures. It explained that it was a good idea to disclose any information about the house possibly being haunted. My house is only three years old, could it be haunted? Surely not! But then again.... nobody died in that house, but, there is a dead body buried in my woods.... Well, I thought, there IS my mother who visited me several times after she died, just bumping around and doing some mischief stuff.. should I tell them? Is she still there?

About a week after she died, I was snoozing away at around 5 in the morning, and my radio came on, full blast, top volume, on a station she liked to listen to. I flew out of bed in great surprise. WHAT THE HECK??? I turned the radio off. Maybe I bumped it. Maybe the cat bumped it. I don't know....

A week or so later the piano came on and started playing. Chopin, Beethoven, I don't know, something classical. Ok, it has an auto-play feature, it's electric, maybe I left it on and the cat stepped on the auto-play button. But the first song on the auto-play list is a children's song, not a classical piece. But the cat was on the bed with me, equally surprised at the sudden music playing. It wasn't playing the first selection, what the heck is this??? I jumped up and ran to look at it. The keys weren't pressing down, nothing spooky like that but it was just music-ing away, I reached out and pressed the 'off' button. It stopped playing. Gee Whiz, what the heck was that all about, I wondered????

My Uncle had given my mother and I a tin of fruit cake the previous Christmas. We ate the fruit cake, washed the tin out and put napkins in it. The tin lived on my kitchen table. After she died I started to find the tin of napkins neatly turned upside down on the floor by my chair. Not a single napkin out of place, just turned over on the floor. Ok, stupid cat, knocking things down, right? I put the tin of napkins in the cupboard. Guess what? I found them upside down in the cupboard, several times. Not the cat this time!

One day I heard some dishes clattering in a cupboard. They were on a half-shelf in the back of the cupboard. They'd been there for a year or more, undisturbed. How did they fall? No earthquake, nobody there to root in the cupboard except me, how and why did they fall? Oddly enough, there were some of HER dishes, not my dishes. Ok, I decided, she's still here. I could hear her bumping around in the kitchen at night, opening and closing cupboard doors, rooting around for, what, coffee? I could hear her cane thumping and bumping into things. It was a noisy house at night.

I went to a psychic. Crazy, I know, I've never gone to one, don't really believe that stuff. Didn't tell the psychic about my Mother, about the possible haunting, I just went and said, read my Tarot, tell me what you think. She told me about someone close to me that didn't want to 'separate' from me. Asked me if I was breaking up with a beau, sending a kid to college, who could this person be that didn't want to be away from me? Good grief, I told her about the stuff going on in my house. She told me to go home and tell my Mother to leave, go to her new place.

I felt foolish talking to what appeared to be an empty house, but I did what the psychic said to do.

I don't think Mom listened, because the 'haunting' stuff continued. Now I'm not there anymore and new people are in, I wonder where the Maternal figure is? I guess is they ask, I'll talk.

Dream about big water and being lost

2010-08-22T02:31:00.003-05:00

Every now and then I get a whopper of a dream. Yesterday was one of those times.

In the dream, I was visiting my sister in the Washington D.C area, (we had recently done the tourist thing there in real life), and I took the wrong metro, ending up at the end of the line. Ok, no problem, I thought, I'll just get the return train and get it right when I get back. Just then I heard the announcer say the last train of the day was leaving. I rushed to the platform in time to see two trains pulling away.

I started walking back, but found myself in my pickup driving in an unfamiliar area. The road in front of me came to an intersection, the light was green so I went straight, seeing that the road was going to drop off a steep hill, I slowed down as I crossed the intersection, but as I started the decline, I discovered that the road ended, there was a yellow-plastic-chain crossing the end of the road. After the yellow-plastic-chain thingy, there was just grass, a steep, STEEP slope ending in the river. My truck broke the yellow-plastic-chain thingy and the tires found wet, soggy, grassy ground. I hit the brakes hard, shouting (out loud?) "Stop, STOP" to my truck.

To my left were two people sitting at a picnic bench, eating and watching me slide down the hill. I turned to the left, hoping to stop the awful slide I was in but the truck just slid sideways down into the river, which turned out to be deep enough to swallow up my truck immediately. I had the sense to put my window down and unbuckle my seat belt as the truck sank, and I swam out.

Then I found myself on a very narrow sidewalk high above the river, the river below swollen and angry, rushing by, taunting me. There were two more people sitting on a park bench, eating sandwiches and watching the river. I went to them on this narrow sidewalk and clutched onto the one wearing a polka-dot 50's style dress. I was screaming in pure panic by this time.

They assured me that 'just around the corner you will be away from the river, all will be well by then'. I moved on, around the corner, only to find myself high, HIGH above the city street below, on an even narrower sidewalk. I was in a panic like I'd never experienced, just so sure I would fall to my death at any moment, and the people were so calm, like a sidewalk 50 feet above a raging river with no rails was the norm.

Around the corner I encountered two more women, sitting on a park bench, eating sandwiches and acting like it was so normal to have a sidewalk so skinny that a person had to sidle sideways clutching to old brick buildings.... It was all so weird. I was screaming in raw panic again, they were just munching sandwiches........

Just then my phone rang and saved me from any more skinny-high-in-the-air-open sidewalks.

Guess that's what I get for eating a meatball sub and taking a nap on my back!

There's nerve and there's THE nerve

2010-07-05T14:11:00.002-05:00

Last week I bought a new semi-conservative swim suit. Today I spent several hours screwing up enough nerve to prance (feeling half naked) to the pool and get in.
I walk to the pool. I get in. I take a nice swim. There's a few kids there, playing, all's ok.

I go sit in a lounge chair, lean back and read until the sun makes my eyes sleepy. I close my eyes. I realize I have one leg down and one up. Too provocative a pose? I put my leg down. I decide it's ok to sit that way because there's only women and children there and they're all dressed WAY more skimpy than I am.
I doze off. I worry about sunburn on parts that haven't seen sun since I was at least 12. I don't care. I doze some more.

I hear a splashing near the end of the pool I am at.

I open my eyes to see who's drowning. It's a man. Kids and women are A-L-L the way at the other end of the pool. The man is floating on his back on a pool floatie thingy. He glances my way. I ignore him, and pick up my book.

Presently I hear furious splashing, not just a little splish-splash, SPLOOSH! SPLASH! I glance up again, against my will. It's still the man. I wonder, 'what, is he drowning NOW? Do I have to go safe him or something?'

He glances my way again, adjusts his swim trunks, front and center part. I look away. Weigh my options. Stay or go? The women and children are still A-L-L the way at the other end of the pool. The man glances at me again.

I leave. End of story. W. T. F.!

The battle with myself

2010-06-21T21:22:00.002-05:00

I've been busy rooting through my mega-piles of schtuff, and trying to figure out how to cram 3 bedrooms, two baths, one barn and one shed into 20 feet of camper trailer. Not an easy feat, lemme tell ya!

"Where to start" Me wonders, wandering around from room to room, poking my nose into closet after closet, a cupboard here and a drawer there. "Ok, start here, in this room" I say. Me says, "Ok, that sounds like a good idea."
So Me and I pull out a box and start digging in stuff that is gold to me, junk to anyone else. Me wonders why in the world I still have this thing? I think, 'I can't throw that out, someone, sometime, somewhere gave it to me'. Me says, "Throw the dumb thing out, it's been wrapped in this paper for... how many years?" Me checks the date on the paper the dumb thing is wrapped in. "Good grief!" Me exclaims, "2004?? Throw the stupid thing out! It's been wrapped for 6 long years!" I close my eyes and toss it. I drag it back out. I throw it away again. I sigh deeply and pull the next wrapped object out of the box, wondering what it might be.
The battle thus rages for several weeks, box after box, I feel like it's Christmas morning, unwrapping things I forgot I had. Me wonders when I became a pack-rat. I feel guilty throwing out things that un-remembered people gave me, sometime, some holiday somewhere.
After several weeks of this guilt-ridden battle, I was happy to note that I managed to cull 20 boxes into 12. Me thinks I didn't do a very good job of getting rid of forgotten junk that who-remembers-who gave me sometime somewhere long, long ago. And Me knows that 12 boxes is way too much to schtuff into a space 20 feet long and 7 feet wide. I sigh heavily, knowing that Me is right. After much guilt-ridden work, many 'yeah-but's' and more sighing, I managed to cull 20 boxes into one admittedly large box of 'very special schtuff' that Me just had to lose the tossing battle and let I keep.
Me doesn't know just what the flock I'm going to do with this large box of very special schtuff, except put it in storage, but for now I won the battle, at least to a degree.
Next I look lovingly at my many, many books. It didn't look like that many until I had 11 boxes neatly packed. Me say's, "No way, you are NOT dragging 11 boxes of books up the road and putting them all in storage!" I went through and culled one bag and one box, "There, I'll donate these." Me thinks, 'uh uh, girly-o, get rid of more'! *Sigh*. My beloved books. "But this is such a good book," I argue. Me says, "How many times have you read it? A dozen? When's the last time you read it? 10 years ago? Put it in the donate box!"

*SIGH*
Ok, I didn't do too good with the book project. I still have 5 boxes. Books are so hard to get rid of.... *sigh*. Me says shut up, Me is so mean!

The final decision that Me and I agree upon is this: I will live under a big leaf in the woods before I ever have this battle again! Pack rat. Shut up, Me.

I was lost but not anymore

2010-06-15T16:14:00.003-05:00

Almost two years ago I climbed out of my career and came home to take care of the Maternal Figure. A year ago she left, again, not so surprising, since she had been making her own career of showing up and going AWOL for over 35 years. But this time she actually said 'Good by' and I, for once, knew just where she was going. Never again will I wonder where the hell she is or when she'll show up on my door step without the courtesy of at least 5 minutes notice.

Since she went on her new and permanent adventure, I've been kind of lost. For the first time in many, many moons, I did not have a plan 'B'. No stinking idea what I was going to do next, and what I would do if 'next' didn't work out.

That's not a good feeling. I didn't like it. Oh, I've kept busy, learned the tax code, helped a bunch of people out, worked a few places.... but that wasn't a good answer either, there was no 'tomorrow' to all those things. That wasn't a good feeling. I didn't like it.

I put my house on the market and chewed my nails while the realtor did nothing to advertise it, paced a hole in the floor waiting for the never-to-happen-prospect to ring my phone. That wasn't a good feeling. I didn't like it.

A job offer came up, but not here. Back in Pa, back home. Doing the same thing I did before I moved to Tennessee. They E-mailed an application to me. I filled it out, copied my resume and E-mailed it back. Spoke with the guy on the phone, and started that wait.

South Central Human Resources called me and asked it I would volunteer to do taxes again next year. Next year. "Unless you can hire me and pay me NOW, I can't wait around for next year." was my answer. No job, no pay, nice talking to you lady....

I called the company in York again. Nobody around to talk to. "I'll call next week," I say.
I start thinking about going home. Where will I live? What will I do? I'll look for a camper, I think to myself. Stick it in a year round campground and see what happens.

A friend calls from PA and says, 'Hey, why don't you come to work here? I'll be your reference, they're hiring, I'll get you in." "I'll think about it," I say.

I go look at a few campers. This one is junky, this one is too expensive, this one is too long, this one is too heavy.... I donate a bunch of furniture to the town I live in for the flood victims. Not that I had that much, but any little bit helps. I find someone to babysit the house and mow the yard. I find a nice lady who lives alone and loves my cat. And I find a camper. Right size, not too old, very clean, came with all the stabilizer and weight distribution equipment, nice price.

"I'll think about it," I say. I call the only year round camp ground I know of in PA, it was one the Maternal Figure lived in for a while, you know, one of those times she dropped into my life like pigeon poo on a city street. Surprise, Surprise, as Gomer Pyle would say, I stumble upon the same lady who rented a space to Maternal Figure, "Yes, I remember LaDonna, she was so sweet, how is the dear lady?" she asks. (I swear Maternal Figure had multiple personalities).

I call the guy who has my application and Resume. "Yes, I want to hire you but it will be a few weeks yet," he tells me. THAT'S what I wanted to hear. Now I have a plan. And a plan 'B'.

I'm back on track and it's a good feeling. I like it.

Well it was fun while it lasted

2010-06-07T07:44:00.003-05:00

I moved to this podunk little town, thinking I was moving back to my past, a time with only a few red lights, small private-owned stores, population small enough that in a few years I would have met almost everyone here.

It is a nice, small town, it does have a few private-owned stores, a junk store, a jewelry store, a flower shop, a small-time grocery store akin to the IGA Mom used to shop at a hundred years ago. (Or so it seems like a hundred..)

I have seen almost every face that lives in the county, know some by name, even know which 'creek' some of them live on. There are 21 creeks in this area. I live 'on' Cedar Creek. I like it here 'on' Cedar Creek, my 11 1/2 acres is quiet, serene, save for the morning bird that wakes up and screeches WAY before morning is actually here. The 'peeps' in the woods in the evening can't be beat, I love it. Yeah, there are bob cats and coyotes running around after dark, armadillo's that dig holes in my yard, and weird dangerous snakes, but that goes with the territory.

I've spent the last two years looking for decent work here. I've tried a few food joints, deli's, a farm, and now a mini-market. What I've learned is this: Tennessee does not have many laws to protect the employee, I can get fired for simply fixing my hair in a way the boss doesn't like. The boss doesn't have to give me a lunch break. Well, that's not entirely true, there is a lunch break mandate;, after 6 hours you must get a break. Oh, but if you are doing a job that doesn't allow time for a break then you take the break 'when you can' and it has to be at least 15 minutes and you have to get paid for it. In other words, the boss can say there's no time for a lunch break and just pay you for the whole day.

On another note, I see so many people around here that think it's a great accomplishment to be able to 'collect a check', Disability is a big thing here. I saw that when I was doing taxes. Some of the people 'collecting a check' didn't seem disabled to me, but.. what do I know?

So. The places I've worked around here went like this. Not enough people to do the job correctly, punished for not getting it all done, don't you DARE work any overtime... Oh, someone quit today? Ok, you pull a double. You've been working for the last nine days? Well, we're two people short and don't know when we'll hire anyone to help out.

Yesterday it was, "I know you're on time for work but you need to go home and come back in 2 1/2 hours so you can pull a 10 hour shift". I said NO.

Saturday a girl quit, she didn't call, didn't give notice, her boyfriend called and said she wouldn't be in today. Small town gossip came in a few hours later and said she was working at a different mini-market. I called the manager and her answer was, "well, you'll have to close the store tonight." Let's see, that would put me on my feet, no 'break', busy store on a main highway, selling gas, beer, cigs, lottery, soda, candy, and cooking for the deli case for abouuuuut 13 1/2 hours. I said NO. I ended up working 10. Next day, "Hey, can you work 10 again?" NO. What does the manager say? "Well, I"M not working!!" "Close the store when you feel like it then."

I'm leaving this town, I need a real job, with real people, not selling one beer at a time for 10 hours to all the 'collect-a-check-winners' that drag their progressively drunken bods in hour after hour.

More bitchin'. The boss came in to relieve me the other night and didn't do trash, didn't mop, and left my drawer 5 bucks short. Mopping and trash is something she rags about every day. I wish I could dock her pay. More bitchin'. Apparently when someone wins money on the on-line ticket, the ticket has to be run twice through the machine. I did not know that. I run it through, find out how much they won, pay them and throw the ticket in the trash. Seems I'm short 78 bucks the other day, seems it's all on-line winnings I'm short on. Seems my paycheck will be 78 bucks short this week. Seems I just might walk out.

More bitchin'. We can't make people pre-pay their gas. We're the only store in town that does not require pre-pay on gas. We're also the only store in town where the gas pumps are out of sight of the cashiers. People aren't dumb, they know they can get gas and run, who will catch them? Policy says I must call the cops, but what can I tell them? "Someone stole gas, have no idea what they were driving, no sir, there is no camera on the pump they drove off from."

Pay day comes and I see I've been kind enough to treat the thief with free gas. Boss says, "You have to pay attention." Yup. And the aisles are set up in a way that I can't see what people are doing in there and they pocket candy and what ever else they can get. Customers say they saw so and so steal, I call the cops, and say, "No, I didn't see it, someone told me." yeah, that goes a long way!

Enough. House is for sale, I'm dragging my sorry butt back home.

Yankees storm Linden Courthouse

2010-05-09T07:41:00.003-05:00

The day was chilly, a brisk wind was blowing out of the north, though the bright sunshine pierced my eyes on that day, May 12, 1863. The Ladies were out bustling about town, some in mourning garb as they had just come from the funeral of a soldier.

The funeral was a sad event, the soldier had also been a doctor in town and he co-owned a mercantile. The widow placed a wreath on the grave and stood aside to watch the 13 gun salute. As the smoke cleared the air and the ladies silently wept, the Chaplin offered a closing prayer. He prayed for safety, closure to the war, and preservation of the Confederate States of America.

The crowd moved into town, across from the court house, where a pot-luck brunch was set up, and the townspeople milled about, chatting about the war, their sons, death and the lifestyle they could lose. There was a doctor's tent and a small camp set up on the courthouse lawn; the Confederate army knew the Yankees were close, and moving in, but they didn't know how close they were, if they would by-pass the town or stop in to ravage things, as they had done in so many towns nearby.

Presently they heard the volley of gun-fire just south-west of town, and the tension in the air increased 10 fold. The soldiers herded the townspeople away from the courthouse, into an alley between two buildings, surely they would be safe there if an attack should come. But, lo, from the very alley that was supposed to be a safe haven, came running a powder boy, about 12 years of age, running like the very devil himself was on his tail, screaming, "THE YANKEES ARE COMIN' THE YANKEES ARE COMIN'!"

Right behind him, (the devil indeed in the eyes of the townspeople) came tearing up the alley the Yankees, whooping and shouting. As soon as they cleared the crowd and got into the street, they knelt and began to fire. It was a small band of Yankees but they were fierce and accurate with their guns.

Having been taken by surprise, the confederate soldiers had no time to load the cannons so they ducked behind the wall surrounding the courthouse and began returning fire. The fight seemed to be an even one until more Yankees arrived from the east side. Confederate soldiers started to fall and it became clear they were going to lose this battle so they ran into the courthouse, opening windows on the second floor and sending shots from inside. Still no Yankees fell.

One young soldier slumped on the window sill of a second floor room, many were dead and wounded on the lawn. The gun fire subsided for a moment, giving the Yankees a chance to storm into the courthouse. Presently the doors opened again, letting out a stream of confederate soldiers, arms in the air, guns held upside down. As they stepped over the dead and wounded, some of them broke to run, and the battle was on again.

Once again, the confederates, feeling the sting of losing more comrades, dove into the courthouse for protection, and once again, the Yankees went in, herded them up and marched them out.

The Yankees decided to burn the courthouse, to flush out any remaining soldiers hiding in there and to prevent any more from ducking back in there. The ladies watched in horror as their soldiers fell and were marched out in shame with a Yankee rifle pointing at their backs.

It was interesting to see that the Yankees left the medical tent alone, and the medics were not harmed as they worked to pick bullets out of a soldiers leg.

After the battle I came back to 2010 and went home, reflecting on what I had just witnessed. As a Yankee myself, in a confederate state, it was strange to hear the Chaplin pray for the preservation of the lifestyle, (slavery) and the preservation of the Confederate States of America. But more so, it was sad to see brother against brother in that battle, such a small slice of the whole war. In such a short time, maybe 20 minutes in all, the town had been turned upside down, the most important building in the town reduced to ashes. Having the advantage of being 'from the future', I knew that the lifestyle that these people had become accustomed to, the riches gained from their huge [labor camp] plantations was soon to be all gone. Life would change dramatically for them, while not so much for the Yankees. Of course, the north lost lives too, cotton, wheat, and other commodities from the south would become dear in the aftermath of the war, but the lifestyle would just go on. Get up in the morning, milk the cow, go to work in a printing press, iron forge, clothing factory...

It was an interesting day, in all. I'm glad I don't live in that time! Yes, there is a war now, soldiers march and die, but we don't see it, it's not in our back yards. In my comfortable lifestyle, that probably won't change as dramatically or as quickly as the southern genteel did, I am grateful.

Protecto-cat awakens owner

2010-05-02T16:29:00.003-05:00

The storms had been raging for a full 24 hours, I had been up for at least 20 of those hours, listening to the canned voice on the weather radio drill me on where to hide in the event of a Tornado and by the way, turn around, don't drown.

I went to work the evening before, wondering for 8 hours if (Is that all, sir?) I (Pump 8 is on, Ma'am) would make (15.89 out of 20.00, thank you, sir) it home that night. I did make it home, at midnight, and fell into bed, exhausted. I heard the canned voice of the weather radio interrupt my sleep several times during the night, I think he/it said something about a flood warning, heavy rain and even a tornado warning, and turn around, don't drown, but I was drowning in my own badly needed sleep, so I shut him/it out.

About daybreak, (which was only about 5 hours since Ihad closed the world out hiding under my pillow), the cat started acting goofy. He was up on the window sill, 'rowwwwling' the strangest 'rowl'. "Shut up, Smokey, I'm sleeping, I'll feed you later", I don't know if I said it or thought it but the Cat responded by mountain climbing on my head. I brushed him off, said something like "Git" and rolled over. This scene repeated itself several times, the rowling, mountain climbing on my head, jumping up and down off the window sill, until my protecto-cat decided this was a problem that needed desperate measures.

He bit me. "OW!" I screamed, but he didn't run, he just sat on my chest looking at me, with HUGE green eyes. Ok, I thought, somethings up, so I guess I'll get up too. If all this goof-ball wants is a little crunchy in his dish he's getting his furry tail tossed out into the rain. Grouchy thing, I was!

Protecto-Cat saw I was FINALLY responding so he made a bee-line for the window sill again. I dutifully followed him, and BAM! I saw what his problem was, my entire back yard was under water.
Smokey-protecto-Cat looked at me and ran like his tail was on fire to the front door, so, again, I dutifully followed him, opened the door and looked out, not at my yard, but at a river. Holy Moly!!

Upon further investigation, I discovered that this WAS a pretty big deal, the dirt was washing out from under my house, (would it tip over? I didn't know, still don't know...) Everything that was under the porch (for supposed protection from the weather) was now out in the yard under three feet of water. My Protecto-Cat knew there was something really, really wrong, and he needed to let me know. What a good cat. He makes the treats and litter box all worth it.

I wonder what he would do if a fire broke out? Probably rip my face off instead of a little bite!!

Ok, I'm a prude

2010-04-30T07:58:00.002-05:00

Yes, I said 'Prude'. I thought I was pretty 'worldly', you know, I knew a lot about life and what makes the world go around. I have a new job in a convenience store, sells beer, cigs, gas, expensive snacks, lottery tickets and, and, well, condoms.

A young fellow came in the other evening and asked me, "Do y'all sell condoms?" So what does reactive, innocent, shocked lil' ol' me say? I says, " CONDOMS????" There are 1/2 a dozen people in line behind him, they all hear me react like a little old grandma (oh, yeah, I am a little ol' grandma, aren't I?). The poor [horny] young fella shuffles his feet, clears his throat and says, "Yes, Ma am". Ma am. BOY, did I feel like an old crotchety lady then. The line shuffles their feet and look at the floor, ceiling, their groceries in unison.

"Um", I says, looking around desperately, when the other clerk steps up and points the poor embarrassed fellow towards the rack behind the counter. "Which kind do you want, there are three here", she explains. Now I'm dying. I don't want to name the 'flavors' out loud, so I invited the poor [not-so-horny-anymore] fellow behind the counter to pick his own.

He picked out two, a purple box and a red box. Ick. I rang him up and he hurried out.

I've learned several things working at the store: Old ladies spend A LOT of money on lottery tickets. Food stamps buy junk food. Beer sold by the can invites progressively drunken people to cycle in and out the door at least 1/2 a dozen times in a two or three hour period. I have the right (and responsibility) to flag the one who is staggering and slobbering the most, and condoms are a part of life.

I want a job shoveling elephant poop. Elephants don't waste money, drink, play the lottery or need condoms. Hmmm, that would be one big box, huh?

There are no jobs out there?

2010-04-14T19:28:00.002-05:00

Dumb luck. Sometimes I stumble into it and sometimes it stumbles into me. That's sort of the story of my life. Take driving a truck: I never, ever, ONCE contemplated climbing into something over 70 feet long and pulling 14K miles a month, AND actually enjoying it. But that's where I ended up. From "would you like more coffee" and "May I take your order?" to "Oh, look, I have 7 stops on this load" and "I wonder what my back-haul will be?"

This change took seconds to happen, not weeks of researching, months of training, studying for a test, applying at multiple companies, the job simply dropped into my lap somewhere between "More coffee?" and "Would you like your check now?".

I stayed with that career (not the same company, though) for almost a quarter of a century. In that time I've been moved into supervisor, dispatcher, trainer, customer service, all with no formal training or even a chase on my part. These opportunities just came to me. And I took them and ran with them, as is my way.

A few jobs I've been tossed into, not against my will, mind you, but with a little protest, like the cat spreading himself wide to avoid being stuffed into the crate. But I persevere, and learn new things anyway.

As a tax preparer, I signed up to be a volunteer, so I thought I knew what I was getting into, but, alas, like the wind blows, I found myself blown into a paid position as a site coordinator. Never saw that coming! But I've enjoyed it, and rose to the challenge. It's been fun, but April 15th looms large, and I've been wondering just what will I do next?

I set out this morning intending to spend money I didn't want to spend. The ignition thingy in my truck gets stuck, and, after a few short cuts trying to get it to work, (graphite, spray), I decided to go to the chevy dealer and pay some over-charging mechanic to replace the dumb thing. After all, I'm pretty impatient, when I want to start the truck and go somewhere, I want to do just that, I DON'T want to sit there in a 90 degree truck and play jiggle jiggy with the switch! Next Monday I'll be about 125.00 buckaroos poorer, but at least I can go-go-go at my smallest whim!

On the way back from making some mechanic really happy with the promise of some bucks next week, I decided to console myself with a cup of joe and a newspaper at my favorite mini-market-gas station-deli. I know the lady that runs the place, she's seen my ugly mug in there before.

So: I'm sitting at a booth, slurping coffee and getting my daily chuckle with the funny page when my friend the store manager saunters over to me, saying something about a job babysitting an old lady once a week for 100 bucks. Well, I've done the babysitting-an-old-lady thing before, and 100 bucks is a 100 bucks, so I said yes, I'll do it. She walked all the way to the front of the store, did a U-turn and came back to my table. "Yes?" I said, interrupting Charlie Brown for a moment, upon which she said, "Forget the job watching the old lady, I need someone to close the store, it's 38 to 40 hours a week, are you interested?"

Once again, a job drops into my lap. I didn't ask for it, had no idea she was hiring, and, best of all, I don't have to wonder what I'm going to do for a paycheck after April 15th.

She has to talk to the big boss and will call me in a few days. There, problem solved for the moment! Maybe she'll move to Timbucktoo and I'll get to manage the place? Ok, don't get ahead of yourself!!

People in a few paragraphs

2010-04-11T20:46:00.003-05:00

Hello. I'm a Peep. There are few Peeps in the world, but many People. I don't like people much, I am really good at dealing with People in a business setting, not so good in a personal setting. So this is a short synopsis on People vs. Peeps.

What's the diff, one might ask. Well, I'm here to tell ya. I'll start with People, since I am having a serious attack of I-don't-like-em's. People are, well, people, they emote, so do Peeps, but People emotes are WAY off the charts. I know a people person who gets mad if I don't call her often enough, or have to click out of a conversation to take a business call. Sheesh, must suck to be her, maybe because I'm a Peep and very likable? Correction, I'm very likable until I don't perform up to standards-according-to-People-Laws.

I never liked rules anyway.

I know a People person who likes me only if I am giving my all to please her. I slipped up yesterday, I got down-right SELFISH and went to have fun with someone besides her. I don't feel bad, though, creep that I am, I had a good time and I will relish the memory of that wonderful day in spite of the tsunami it seemed to create in a People's mind.

Funny, I didn't even get wet in the tsunami. Probably because I reject the actuality of the tidal wave.

I don't like waves either, they knock me down and put sand in my pants.

Now on to the the Peeps. I like peeps because even though they might be having their own tsunami, they never throw buckets of waves at other people. They just surf the tide until things calm down. Oh, a tsunami-engulfed Peep might ask for a floaty, or a rope, and I'll gladly throw one, but real Peeps never drag someone under with them.

My Cat is a good Peep. My Sister is a good Peep. I'm a good Peep.

I'm glad I'm not a psychologist. I'd probably go to jail for shaking up a poor-poor-pitiful-me client.

Ok, I'm done blowing off steam. Glass of wine and hot bath sounds like a good ending to a great day in the yard and garden!

Reading old blogs

2010-03-31T20:09:00.003-05:00

I don't know what gets into me sometimes, I miss the Maternal Figure a lot this week, it's so nice out, I've been sitting on the porch with my coffee in the mornings and my book in the evenings, beside Maternal Figures empty chair. Oh, crap, maybe I should throw the chair out and get rid of the wheel chair ramp?

So now it's dark out and I came in to check my other blog, "Are You Mr. Eshelman" to see if anybody commented and ended up reading all my previous blogs that I wrote when MF was here. I told myself not to do it but I read on and on. The end result? I had lots of smiles and chuckles. Maybe this means the grief is over and I can revel in the good memories.

After all, she was a funny ol' thing, when she wasn't mad about something! I laughed out loud at the comments made to my blog about her primping that two men at the nursing home liked to push her wheel chair back from the smoking room. And how about the time she fumbled around and found some matches? She wanted to go outside at 3 in the morning SO bad, actually found the strength to nearly JOG across the room ahead of me!

It was a tough year, having her here, but her presence generated a lot of good memories. Thanks, Mom. I still love you, but I guess you know that.... Hope you're happy with your cello, or maybe you're still making people fetch it and move it for you?

Are you Mr Eshelman?

2010-03-30T15:51:00.003-05:00

I was dreaming that I was moving back into the spooky house, the haunted house I lived in as a kid. The attic was really, REALLY scary, there was a small door at the end of the hallway by the bathroom where the ghost could come into our part of the house, the ghost watched over us as he/it allowed us to go to the bathroom and leave the upstairs immediately.

I had all my stuff moved into the house, but didn't stay there at night. I just didn't feel ready, so I visited it during the day. In the dream there was a bathroom downstairs that had a hole in the wall to the outside, and critters could come in and out at will, so I plugged the hole and closed the door. One day when I was visiting the house, my cat Smokey got spooked and ran out, I went to the room he ran out of to see what was up and found a litter of kittens there. I grabbed one by the scruff of it's neck and, trying to keep if from scratching/biting me, I ran to the bathroom where the hole was, and now it was a door. I flung the door open only to find a drop of about 3 feet, no steps.

I threw the cat out and did the same with two more. My heart was pounding, whew, it was only stray cats, not a ghost!

Next day I was walking home from Parmers store, across the field with another family and my dog Kelita. We were trudging through the snow and had to go past the old house to get to my new one. It would have been easier to go through the old house than to keep plowing through deep snow and the other family questioned me, I told them I forgot about that option.

As soon as I got away from the house and close to my front porch it became summer, the family said goodbye and went on their way. I went into the old house to visit, (I guess, don't remember why I was in there) and I heard *BOOM* *BOOM* coming from above. It didn't sound like kittens, it sounded like someone pounding their feet on the upper floor.

I ran outside and towards my new house, and feeling compelled and frightened at the same time. I turned to look at the attic windows. There, in the window, peering back at me, was a bearded man, looking very angry. "Are you Mr. Eshelman?" I asked. "NO", the voice boomed back at me, "I OWN this house and YOU STAY OUT!"

I said I didn't own the house, I was only renting it and then noticed that is was sitting on MY land, only feet from my house. I was terrified, that I lived so close to that evil house, and couldn't easily move away.

I struggled awake as the bearded face in the window screamed "GET OUT" and "HAHAHA, you DO own it!!".

Tears of frustration equals TICKED OFF

2010-02-15T14:36:00.002-06:00

I have a strange quirk surrounding tears, not tears of joy or tears of grief, but tears that are jerked out by the hands of someone who has done something so dark, evil and hurtful that the only thing one can do is cry tears of pure frustration. Those kind of tears tick me off to the core.

It's bad when someone frustrates ME to the point of tears, when that happens I start drawing very clear boundaries. Go away, stay away and never show your mean face again. Don't call, don't write, don't even think about me, because I'll hear your thoughts and mentally rip your face off and feed it to you.

But wait, there's more to my quirky aversion to tears of frustration. So far, in my life, there have been only two people in my life that I feel the personal affects of their tears. My Mother and my sister. For some unknown reason, if a person makes THEM cry, I will rip your face off and feed it to you. Don't ask me why, it just is.

Recently, a person related by biological connection ONLY has made my sister cry. Oh, I'm mad, no, I'm ticked... no, I'm downright PISSED OFF! Why? I guess I just love her, certainly she doesn't need me for protection, she's capable of ripping off faces and feeding them back to the offender, just as I am. Just the same, my claws are out. He made her cry and I'm mad, ticked, pissed off.

For at least an hour today, my fingers hovered over the key board, mentally typing my response to this thing, fingers that were prepared to rip, tear and feed all through cyberspace. I resisted. I won. I didn't type anything to the freak that hurt my sister, it wouldn't solve the problem, it would feed the fire. I'm not interested in feeding a fire.... maybe a face but not a fire.

To my dear sister, at least we came out normal, compassionate, kind, understanding and smart. What more could we ask for? Love ya, Sis.

Living on the street in third grade

2009-11-29T08:13:00.002-06:00

I know a young lady, 24, who has two kids. I met her at college, she seems like a nice kid, (Kid, where did the time go?), drug and alcohol free, she was living with her mother and stepfather, trying to hold a job down and go to school. I helped her find an apartment last week, low income housing, as she was having trouble getting along in a small house with two kids where she really wasn't wanted.

I go to lunch with her between classes, we study together over french fries and coffee. Yesterday I received a frantic call from her. "What are you doing", she asked. "I'm sitting here doing some homework and being lazy", I tell her. Something about her voice set of alarms in my head, so I said, "You Ok?" She said she had an argument with her mother, her step dad just pushed her and all her stuff was now sitting in the front yard, could I come and help her pick up her stuff, could I let her and her two kids stay with me until she could get in her apartment?

She can move into the apartment on December 1st, a few days away. Ok, I agreed to come over and stuff my car with her stuff and let her stay here. We loaded her car to the roof, loaded my car to the roof, drove it all here and put it in the shed, then headed back for another load, this time we found a friend with a pick up truck. We loaded his truck to the gills, stuff on the front seat, boxes unpacked and shoved into any available corner of his truck, and did likewise with my car. It's the next day and we have two cars in the driveway stuffed to the roof, still to be moved into the shed. Her kids were on the way back from Iowa, on a visit with their Father and his family. They arrived at 4am this morning. We had to drive to the Walmart parking lot to meet them as they would have NEVER found this place in the daylight, never mind the dark of night.

Two very tired, confused and worried children piled out of their carseats and into my car, questions tumbling out of their little 4 and 6 year old mouths. They are very well behaved, I put them on the couch and they went right to sleep.

What about living on the street in third grade? That is the young mother's story, she missed third grade because she was following her mother around from drug house to drug house, wearing her mothers cloths, until her father found her and took her to his house. She stayed away from the mother until she grew up, just last year came to live with her, well, that didn't work out, so for the next few days I have a surrogate daughter and two surrogate grandkids. Should be fun!

Quitting is not an option

2009-11-25T17:58:00.003-06:00

I'm taking an algebra class at the local college. It's been a really, REALLY hard hill to climb, but I'm getting it. I discovered today that I'm confused in class NOT because I'm dumb but because the instructer goes, 1) too fast and 2) jumps all over the map before anyone can figure out what she's doing. Today I was (for the first time in my LIFE) ahead of the teacher. I jumped ahead in the book and pre-learned stuff she hadn't covered yet. I got it, my homework was a breeze, I GET it.

In class today, she covered the above-mentioned lesson. Even though I knew the material, she had me lost in no time. I sat back to observe, why was I lost? What happened to my hard-earned knowledge? She was writing and demonstrating problem 'A'. A student asked a question about problem "A' and she scrapped problem 'A' and started a whole new one. Same concept, different numbers. I looked around, the students were frantically writing out the new problem, and by the time they got it written down, she was DONE doing it and moving on. Another student asked her to slow down, could she explain the new problem step by step.

Are you ready? She scrapped THAT one and wrote out a THIRD one to demonstrate. Again, the students frantically wrote the equation down and by the time they got it on paper and looked back up to the TV to watch her do the problem, she was done again.

The student next to me tossed her pen down and sat back, looking at me in exasperation. She slipped a note over to me; 'I'm so lost!' the note said. I slipped an answer back to her.

'Get a problem out of your book that provides an answer, then play with the thing until you figure out how the book arrived at that answer, you'll learn alot' was my note. The poor kid closed her book and walked out.

It has taken me three months to get over my fear of the evil numbers that chased me in my dreams, and realize I CAN DO THIS. Will I ace the next test? Probably not, but I won't fail it either. I was going to quit the class, take the zero and figure the book out on my own. I took a week and a half off, just skipped class, but I didn't quit.

To my great sister, I thank her for the tall, refreshing glass of confidence she gives me when I need it!!

A Visit to Hellen Kellers House

2009-11-21T13:10:00.003-06:00

Today was an interesting day. I started the morning off with my usual cup of coffee and strong sense of boredom. I've been sort of 'shut down' for just about six weeks due to having a cast on my right arm. that changes on Monday, my arm will be free.

But back to today: Where was I? Oh, yes, Bored-Outta-My-Ever-Lovin'-Mind. I decided that I was going to go find a mall. Having come from a HUGE city (compared to my current tiny town), I was jones-ing big time for a mall, an Olive Garden, Panera Bread, anything OTHER than Sonic or McDonalds. Where to go, where to find a mall? Hmm, Nashville would work. NAH, been there, done that. I know, I'll go south, into Alabama. The city of Florence is not too far across the line, Yeah, I'll go there.

Being a big-bad tough truck driver for ever, I figured didn't need a map, so off I go. I accidentally got on the Florence bypass, (hey, at least Florence is big enough for a by-pass!) and found myself in a small town named Tuscumbia. NO, I wasn't lost, just temporarily misplaced. Or just riding around, or, well, ok, I wasn't sure which way Florence was at this point. I decided to take a right at the next light and it was there that my day's destiny was changed. The sign on the sidewalk read, 'Helen Keller birth place' and the arrow indicated 'this-o-way'.

Cool, I thought, as I obeyed the arrow instructions and turned that-o-way. I wandered through the old town of Tuscumbia (where ever that was in relation to Florence) following 'this-o-way' signs until I happened upon a bigger 'Here you are!" sign. The house sat back from the road, surrounded by huge, 200 year old trees and a perfectly manicured yard. I noticed that one of the shutters on a window was sagging slightly. Entering the house I found my self in a breezeway, typical of old homes, where two older women greeted me and took my 6 bucks for a tour.

They explained the life of Helen Keller, her teacher Annie Sullivan, and said that most of the furnishings and clothing I would see on the tour were original. The first room to the right as I walked through the breezeway was the parents room and some vintage cloths. To the left was the parlor. There was a fire place in there, a Victorian style sofa, Mr. Kellers desk and an old pump organ.

The organ was small, with beautiful guilded scrolling on it. The two foot pedals were covered with a cloth that was much like burlap and very ornate. The keys were smaller than today's piano or organ keys, and the key board itself was very short. I believe it was 61 keys. There were 4 'stop' knobs, two on each side of the keyboard, on the back board. In front of it was a small, round stool, on claw legs that were carved very nicely. The seat was covered with a buttoned velvet, tan in color. So what do I do? I open my big mouth and say:

"That looks like it would be fun to play!" Well, these tow old ladies lit up like lightning bugs mating in the spring, and clasping their hands under their chins, squeal in unison,
"Can you play it?" "Well," I started to stammer, " I guess I could figure out a song on it."

End of conversation, right? NOT! I continued my tour, walked around the grounds and headed for my car. From behind me I hear, "Oh, you come back, you promised to play the organ for us!"

Oh, boy, what did I get myself into, I wonder? I DID play one once, about a million years ago, so here goes nothing. They nearly dragged me into the house again, got the tiny padlock key out and unlocked the gate into the parlor. Next thing you know, I'm sitting on a 100 year old stool in front of a hundred year old organ.

Tentatively, I press one of the pedals, yup, it worked, I could feel pressure building as i pumped air into the antique. I played a few notes, it sounded wonderful. The sound was bold and rich.

"Aren't you supposed to pump both pedals," another tourist asked me. "Yes", I say and get both my feet moving. I played Amazing Grace on it. It took a lot of balance and strength to stay on the stool while I pedaled (like riding a bike) and played. With each push of my feet, my body wanted to lean back. I heard murmurs of appreciation behind me and requests to play more. I declined, the old instrument probably hadn't been played in years and I didn't want to be the one to break it.

I took advantage of being allowed into the off limits area and looked closely at some of the things in the room. Helen's braille book, a family photo album, the fine china set on the dining room table and the silver tea set from England. I was really honored, to get such a treat for a lousy 6 bucks and a 70 mile drive!

Frankenstien is young and handsome

2009-08-19T20:27:00.003-05:00

Really, he is! I went to his office today, and, ooohh, boy, was he a looker! Young, buff, with dark wavey hair, dark eyes, and his smile, oh, a smile that would melt the wicked witch of the west.

And I got the honor of his full attention for a whole half hour. Oh, I felt SO lucky, to be in the presense of such a famous and handsome man! He chatted with me, small talk, showed such concern for my needs, I was truely smitten..

He smiled at me, I smiled back, then he said, "this won't hurt much." My heart skipped a beat, was he going to hug me or torture me? I started to worry. "What won't hurt", I asked, starting to wonder if this whole thing was a dream (nightmare?). He turned his back for a moment to pick something up, and to my horror, it was a, a, a PROBE thingy, with wires attatched, his warm smile started to look a little sinister..

"Wha, what are you going to do with that thing?" I asked. He answered with a professor-like disertation on how he was going to send shocks through my arm and hand, reiterated that it wouldn't hurt much, but I might feel a bit of discomfort. A BIT? Can I go now? Mr. Handsome-dark-haired-smiling-famous-guy put some sticky papers on my arm, hooked up some wires to it, and, smiling warmly at me, stuck the probes on my arm.

OUCH! Mr. Monster (as I thought of him by now) smiled warmly and had the nerve to say, "Good." He shocked me several more times, each time smiling and saying how good it was.

I'm thinking at this point, 'touch me with that thing again and we're gonna go at it and you ain't gonna like it, mister'!! He must have read my mind, because he declared once more that it was good, (what, are you god now, you did it and saw it was good??), and put the prong thingy down, pulled my sticker-thingy's off and put the wires away. Whew. Can I go now?

Oh, no, Dr. Frankenstien wasn't done with me yet. He pulled out a NEEDLE, it looked like a darning needle that might have come out of my knitting basket. "What are you going to do with THAT?" I asked, fear welling up like a tidal wave. I SWEAR I heard him chuckle, sinister creep that he was. "I'm going to poke you and listen to the sound waves". Yeah, sound waves that will surely come from my screams of agony! He poked me once on the palm of my hand, and seeming to enjoy my discomfort, proceeded to poke me 3 more times, drawing blood once. Now I was sure I hated him, he was ugly, mean and evil!

He got done poking and shocking me, gave me a kleenex to wipe up the blood and declared that there was no visable nerve damage to my hand. Oh, maybe there wasn't when I came in here but now my whole arm is jumping like a scared armidillo!

The purpose of this torture, um, I mean test, was to find out why I am having pain and weakness in my right hand. Darn right I have pain, after being shocked and poked with a 6 inch needle! At least he didn't put bolts in my neck.

DD's bed and bath (room)

2009-08-17T19:22:00.002-05:00

I was rudely awakened around 4:30 this morning, not by the cat this time, but by a huge vice grip crushing my gut. After rolling around and trying to ignore it for a while, I decided maybe I better go visit the small room off my bedroom. It was there I found out why my gut was screaming. There was some kind of junk in it that needed to be removed.

I spent the next 4 or 5 hours removing junk, not really my idea of a fun time, but I guess I hadda do what I hadda do... and doooo, and dooo....

I think I lost about 5 pounds, but I digress. I am exhausted now, I slept all day, which is ok with me but my boss, or should I say now ex-boss, didn't believe me that I was too sick to come to work. Well I fixed her stupid butt, I called the girl that's filling in for me today and got her to fill in for me tomorrow, which, by the way, was supposed to be my last day.

The last time I was sick like this was in 2006, when I ate at a waffle house in Satsuma, Alabama, and got food poisoning. I wonder what I ate this time? Oh, I guess I'll survive, I have to, there's too much funny stuff out there in this crazy world to write about!

Meanwhile, the cat sits, looking at me, wondering when I'm going to get around to throwing his stuffed mouse for him. I see him planning a great revenge for my inactivity; He's probably going to try to wake me up in the middle of the night to play. Darned nocturnal fool....

Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk, the evil one strikes

2009-08-11T21:01:00.003-05:00

I hate my job, it's like going to 9th grade homeroom with no teacher, every stinking day. We hired a new girl, yes, girl! She's all of 21 or so, and acts like 15. She's been on the job for a few days and I got the Privilege (Huh?) of training her tonight. I also got the honor of working with another 20 or so year old kid. Now the second one, she does work, now and then, a bit scattered, but she will work. Well, when she's not hiding in the supply closet to call her boyfriend, who, go figure, doesn't have a job.

So 9th grader number one, the new one, likes to text, giggle, text some more, and then show off her received texts. One was a toilet with a huge tongue in it. EWWWYUK was my response. Well, it that one wasn't good enough for me, she showed me another one. A naked fat guy on all fours, the joke was, "Watch out for Swine Flu". "Ok, put the thing back in your pocket" was my evil response. To my surprise, the phone flashed back in the pocket as though I had a gun to her head. If only...... Nyuk, nyuk!

I put her on a job and dragged her back to it half a dozen times. The deli was really slow, we should have been able to get all the work done an hour early.. Yeah, right.

At 40 minutes before closing I called across the [class] room and said, with great old-person-authority, "WE HAVE 40 MINUTES AND THIS PLACE IS A MESS! LET'S GET DONE HERE!"

Again, to my great surprise, both girls jumped like I had put a hot poker up.. well, you know the story.. After a few minutes of hard work, the boyfriend and a friend came up and the work stopped again. I was sloshing in the sink, (girl number two's job), when I heard the guy-friend say, "I'm wearing your panties", giggle giggle. The evil one, (that'd be me) whirled around and said, "Hey, stop that kind of talk, you are in public!". Stupid guy number 2 said, "We're not in public". DUH, stupid, you're in a STORE! "This IS public and you stop that kind of talk!" I scolded.

More surprise, the stupid oaf apologized. "We have 20 minutes", I bark, beginning to love this.

The boyfriend and his dumb guy-friend moved off and the wheels of production started again. We got done just before closing time, but there was one more thing that needed to get done, I had mentioned it several times over the course of the long 5 hours I had been forced to put up with this class, but it didn't get done. Both girls headed for the time clock, but I stopped girl # 1 and MADE her go do the undone chore before I would allow her to punch out.

I'm so evil! Nyuk, nyuk, loving it all the way!

You've been replaced

2009-08-07T06:32:00.003-05:00

Notice that I have a new picture on my blog. This is my beloved Kelita, a mini Pekingese. She was my trucker-buddy, she's seen more of the country, walked more miles in the desert and Rockies than most people have. She died in 2007. I miss her terribly.

The other night I had a dream that my Mother was alive again, (EEEEK)! She was at my sisters house this time, in a hospital bed, and all the sibs were there. In typical Mom-fashion, she was lambasting my youngest sib. My oldest sib scolded her, "If you don't straighten up you're going to a nursing home"! This served to agitate the Mom-figure even more, as she lay on the bed with the only working part of her running a mile a minute, her mouth.

I went to sit on her bed and try to calm her down, and she BIT me. So, (since in dreams you can do anything you want, or don't want...), I bit her back. I bit her cheek so hard I drew blood, which drew immediate regret from my stone-cold heart. The Mom-figure started to cry, "You bit me!", she exclaimed. "No kidding I bit you", I grouched, "and if you bite me again, I'll bite you back!"

Well, the mean ol' thing bit me again, on the wrist. To strangle her here and now or to not, what to do..... I got up off the bed and moved away from her. To every ones great surprise, she got off the bed, no, she JUMPED up, grabbed her cane and started chasing me. I ran into the kitchen to get away from her, only to find she could not only run as fast as I could, she could swing that cane like a samurai sword at me. I grabbed a broom to spar with her, all the while calling for someone, anyone, to come help me. At this point, I would have liked to see her tackled to the ground and hand-cuffed to a two ton concrete post.

As dreams would have it, (why, oh why?), nobody came to my rescue and I woke myself up screaming. When I awoke, my rescue-cat was laying on my chest wondering what all the excitement was. After turning on every available light in the house, I got myself back into reality, told the Mom-figure to go back where she came from and went back to bed.

Since she is there (I hope!) and I am here, I decided to replace her picture. Well, ok, the dog is dead too but the dog never came back and bit me after she died!

Sweet dreams, DD, only sweet dreams are allowed from here on out!!!

Nature at it's best

2009-07-27T19:13:00.000-05:00

I was driving home the other evening, after dark again, I'm getting used to this 'dark stuff' after almost a year of being pampered, safe and secure in my house with real lights and all..

Any-hoo, when I turn on my road I have a HUGE hill to go up and over to get to my house. The hill is about a mile up, and a mile back down. It's really, really dark on the hill, at night, of course. I think the boogey man might live up there, in perfect harmony with the armadillos, bob-cats, coyotes, turkey, buzzards (that puke on your car if you upset them), deer and the one and only little black bear anyone has seen around here.

So, I turned up my road and started up the hill, and my headlights caught sight of a large dog, no, a small deer! This little guy couldn't have been very old, it was all spindly-legged and tiny, with the brilliant spots only a recently new-born would have. This little bugger was standing in the middle of my lane, and upon my arrival, it started to run. Up the hill. On the road. There is nothing but woods on both sides of the road for two miles, plenty of opportunity for the poor bugger to dive off the road, but it stayed in front of my car, running for it's poor little life.

So I slowed down, followed it for a while, then 'Beep, Beep' I made my horn say. Oh, the poor critter started trying to run faster up the steep hill, his little hoofs slipping, I felt bad. I grabbed my camera to get a shot at it but all I got was glare off my windshield. Rats. Poor-little-scared-bugger ran a whole mile to the top of the hill, passing several spots that had easy access to the woods, until it finally stopped on the crest to hang it's head and pant. Now I was really feeling sorry for it.

I stopped the car, got out with camera in hand, first I wanted a pic of it standing in my headlights, and second I wanted to usher it into the woods. Well, it got one look at big-ol-mean-I'm-gonna-eat-you-me and started running again, still on the road. The crest of the road ended and started to climb again, by now it had run about a mile. It got in the opposite lane and I pulled up beside it, to One; get a pic, and Two, chase it into the woods. Poor dumb thing turned towards my car and bumped off the front left fender, which panicked it even more, if that was possible!

It got back in front of me and ran like I was the devil himself, for another half a mile or so, until it found a driveway on the left to dive into. And he was gone. I hoped for two things: The run didn't kill him and he finds his dear deer mommy, I'm sure he was hungry after the marathon! And I bet he stays off the road from now on, too!

Baby on the shelf

2009-07-19T11:45:00.000-05:00

Isn't she cute? I named her Alley. Aww, so cute, such a quiet baby, haven't heard her cry yet, she doesn't fuss when I hold her...

I found her laying on a shelf. I was appalled that someone would leave a nearly newborn baby laying on the edge of a shelf 3 feet from a hard floor, but, well, people do strange things. 'Specially in these-here parts.

When I first saw her lying on the shelf, I thought someone had given her black eyes, you know, popped her one. Turns out the 'black eye' affect was simply new-born veins that show on, well, new-borns.

After exclaiming loudly, "There's a BABY on this shelf!", the real owner came over and offered to let me hold her. The owner picked the poor baby up by ONE ARM. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. But the baby didn't fuss, she just hung there like a rag doll. I was becoming more and more confused by the second. Is the kid dead? Mentally challenged? Comatose? And, why in the world was it laying on the edge of a shelf???

Turns out it IS a rag doll. Oh, what a relief, the thing isn't a poor abused, neglected and abandoned real kid after all. Ok, I regathered my scattered thoughts and emotions enough to ask some questions about it. The owner makes these things, (so stinking REAL looking) and sells them, for upwards to 400 buckaroos. Cheaper than a real baby and a whole lot less trouble, I guess. "What's with the bruised eyes?" I asked. The owner explained that she buys plain looking-life-sized baby dolls and paints new-born veins into them, puts a little make-up on, glues some hair on and dresses them up. Stinking spooky things sell like hot-cakes.

Now, I am positively SPOOKED OUT by real-looking dolls, well, ok, fake-looking ones too. And the owner wants me to hold the thing. Trying not to make a face, (I failed at that attempt), I held my arms out to take it. She gently (gently after scooping it up by one arm?) placed it in my outstretched arms, as though it were really alive.

I sort of held it at arms length, feeling Owners questioning eyes on my, I'm sure wondering why I was acting like it was a python or something. I gave it back, explaining that it looked really nice, I was sorry, but it spooked me out. Yeah, well, she thinks I'm weird!

I tried to continue my work day and forget the whole thing but, honestly, I tried really hard to avoid that part of the deli until the thing went home! I think she might be a cousin to Chucky, or maybe one of those Children of the Corn. I don't know, I don't care, just keep it away from me!

Murder in the Livingroom

2009-07-09T21:55:00.000-05:00

I worked till dark today, first time I've driven in the dark in a long, long time. It seemed weird, to only see what my headlights would allow! I got home and discovered that I didn't leave a light on for myself, so I stumbled around in the dark, trying to find the right key and then the right hold, finally letting myself into my dark living room.

I fumbled around and found a light switch, bathing the living room in light. Ah, I can see now!

Ok, the cat is here, my furniture is still where I left it, all is well. I'm tired, can't wait to get into my jammies and flop in a chair, read a while and go to bed.

WAIT! What's that moving over on the floor by the cat, and speaking of cat, why is he acting so strange, what's he hiding over there? As my eyes travel across the room to the cat my sight stumbles across some red spots on the rug.

BLOOD? No way, this is a MALE cat, HE, the BOY cat doesn't have 'times of season'. Where is this blood coming from? OH! Another spot, and another, and another, GEEZ, what happened here while I was gone?

I look again at the cat, acting very 'cattish', hunkering over some kind of, of, Prize. I got up and navigated my way around the many, many blood spots on my rug, shooed the cat away to find a poor, pitiful, injured, alive and struggling mouse.

Ah, Mr. Mouse, YOU are the provider of the blood spots! I picked the poor critter up by the tail, feeling very sorry for him/her/it as he/she/it looked up at me as if to say, "Are you my rescuer"? Well, Mr. (Ms.?) Mouse, I do have a penchant for rescuing poor, pitiful little animals but you don't quite meet the criteria.

I took him/her/it outside and set it free, if you can call putting an injured 3 ounce animal out into the wild 'free', much to the cat's chagrin.

To make matters worse, in the cat's eyes, I had the nerve to clean up the blood and disinfect the area. That cat hates me!

Well, at least the cat is earning his keep!

350 pounds and growing

2009-06-28T16:03:00.000-05:00

"I'll have the feelin' puhleeze", and " I'll have the 12 pack of Cheeikan" were the words I heard all day today. Well, that's not entirely true, in the morning I heard things like "I'll have two sausage and bacon Beeiscuts, puhleeze".

Most of these people weighed about 350 pounds, well, maybe some weighed about 300 but you git the jist.

Where on earth was I to hear that stuff all day? Oh, I was at the local grocery store deli. I got hired yesterday and started work today. Pay and hours aren't bad, busy atmosphere, the day mostly whizzed by. I was given an hour-long lunch break. In the morning I wondered just what would I do for a whole hour, but after working for 6 hours I was more than ready for an hour to chill out and get off my poor screaming feet.

The deli served breakfast and lunch, all fatty stuff, fried stuff, eggs, sausage patties, the greasiest bacon I've ever seen, and lunch was fried chicken, chicken filling, or, as the locals call it, 'feelin'. I had to quench the urge to say something like, "feelin? you ain't gettin' no feelin here, I don't feel people!" And "You really don't need to eat fried food, how about some green beans?"

But the customer is always right, go ahead, eat yourself to death. At least I have something to do now. And I'm getting paid for it! That's always a good perk.

Alfred Hitchcock in real time

2009-06-23T19:02:00.000-05:00

Remember the movie 'The Birds', where all these crazy black birds attack a town and wreak havoc? I don't remember what set Alfred's birds off but I know what set my yard birds off and I'll tell you.

The darned cat caught a little baby birdy. Ok, the cat does stuff like that, he's a cat, fer cryin' out loud. But he just happened to pick on the meanest bird-family in the yard. These little creatures, no more than a handful, are grey with white spots on the tops and undersides of their wings. You can only see the spots when they are in flight.

They have a very distinct vocabulary; Chirp, Chirp, trilllll, Chirp, trilllll, Chirp, and so on. And they're mean. Oh, I did say that, didn't I? I have seen them dive-bombing crows, and the crows run like hell, which is weird, since crows are at least 3 times bigger than these little buggers, and crows are WAY louder, 'CAW, CAW'! But for all their big-ness and loud calls, they still run like hell.

Well, guess who else runs like hell? I do. Back to the innocent little baby birdy. The cat has this little creature captured in his mouth under the porch and two of these little killer birds are having a FIT. Flitting all over the porch, sitting on the rails, chairs, Chirping and trilling.. I came out to see what all the racket was about and got dive-bombed by one of them.

I extracted the un-injured baby birdy out of the cat's mouth, banished him to the inside and released the innocent baby birdy onto the grass. Baby birdy flies away, problem solved, right?

WRONG!

Several hours, I say SEVERAL hours later, I went out the back door, opposite side of the house from the bird incident, to get my laundry off the line. "Chirp, Chirp, Trill", I find the talking bird on the edge of the roof. "Chirp, Chirp, Trill", I see the other one on a pole behind me. The cat walks across the lawn to lay at my feet, good little kitty, and on the way towards me one of the killer birds dive-bombed him. Straight out of the air, zoooooom, pecked at the cat's tail on the way by. Now don't tell me those birds remember!! ?? I started to wonder about me, I had my grubby little hands on cute little baby birdy too.

Sure enough, they set up, one on each side of me, and started calling back and forth, and, to my surprise, calling in back-up troops. Now I had 4, that's FOUR killer birds Chirping and trilling, surrounding me and making a plan of attack.

As I reached up to the cloths line to take an item down, two of them swooped down off the roof and buzzed between my arm and my head, screaming all the way.

I don't know what kind of birds they are, or how long they remember that the cat and I murdered their cute little baby birdy, but I think I'll stay in this evening. Man, I hope they forget!

Restaurants and Grief

2009-06-20T20:31:00.000-05:00

This is the Maternal Figure, you know, the one who inspired most of my blogs. Well, ok, some of them were a little on the grouchy side, and this blog might get grouchy too, I'm not sure yet.

Read on!

I have been kind of out of sorts this weekend, I hate weekends anyway, nothing to do, things aren't open, can't make any phone calls, and it's been too hot to breath outside. So I've been stuck in the house, bored out of my mind.

But wait! Don't just sit around and feel sorry for yourself, DD, go DO something. Yeahhh, why didn't I think of that hours and hours ago? Oh, that's right, it was too hot outside to breath. But as nature will have it, (after all, it's not nice to fool mother nature anyway), it cools off in the evenings. Well, a little, anyway.

So I decide to get in my car and GO somewhere, Oh, how about the state park? Ah, yes, go see the river. So I gits out my bug spray, pour a thermos of homemade ice tea with a touch of rasberry flavor and goes out to start the car. Vroom, vroom, come on, AC, cool this buggy off!

The park was nice, they must have just mowed, everything was neat and tidy. And nearly devoid of any human presence. I found some people swimming in the river, and moved on. I took a road that looked like it would go forever in the woods, 'camping this-a-way' 'no dumping' and 'port-a-potties that-a-way' , the signs directed and announced. I saw some deer, shooting accusatory glances at me as they scuttled off the road. I parked in an empty lot near a play ground and walked to the river, wondering if I would be bitten by a poisonous snake or murdered by a woods-bum that might look a bit like Sasquatch.

Of course, I'm home typing this, so I survived the trip, (in case anyone was wondering). Well, I sort of survived the trip :(

I decided to stop at a little cafe in town, the one where the one-and-only hotel is. I ordered a delicious Chicken Scampi and sat back to enjoy the old guy who was playing blues and singing. I remembered that the last time I was in that restaurant and there was entertainment (better the last time, btw), I was with the Maternal Figure. She had the Catfish and ate like a hog. She shared her pecan pie with me. She sat right over there... Ok, I'm ok with that, just a nice memory. I chews my chicken, listens to the old guy croon, all is well.

A young woman, (ha ha, young, she was about my age!) came up to sing with the old crooner, all is well, she was good. She finished a song, I clapped, then she introduces her Mother, who was up from Florida on a visit. (Mama was small and frail, just about the same size as my Maternal Figure). "And Mama's favorite song is 'over the rainbow' and she's gonna sing with me, so a big hand for Mama!"

The old thing hobbled up to the mike and they sang together, arms around each other and looking at each other, smiling, singing, The old lady was really out of tune but it was clear the daughter was relishing every sour noted moment with her Mother.

I must be allergic to 'Over the rainbow' because for some strange reason I noticed that the room was getting blurry. Uh Oh, I realized I was going to do something embarrasing in a restaurant like CRY. I wolfed one more bite, found my waitress, paid the bill and sniffled my way out to the car. 'Geez', I was thinking, 'when is this grief crap going to be over?' Oh, what the hell, I'm in the car, I'll let the tears do thier thing. I told the car to take me home but it had other ideas, it took me to the cemetary. Ok, geez, I'll do the right thing and cry at her grave.

The picture you see before the Maternal Figure is my Pekingese, Kelita. She died in 'o6. I never thought I would grieve as hard as I did for Kelita. Maybe I was wrong..

Playing Tag

2009-06-17T19:04:00.000-05:00

Cricket and Lady, this is my '10th' pic in my documents. I rescued Cricket first, she's the paint on the left. Sweet, sweet horse, about 10 years old, good rider, really nice horse. When I brought her home she was starved to bone, no, really, she was skin and bones. I had never seen such a skinny horse until I met Lady, the one on the right.

It turned out that Cricket and Lady were stable mates in their other life, they knew each other and were glad to be back together. After kissing and nickering to each other, Lady fell into the leadership role she obviously played before she came to me. She (Lady) is a pure Mustang, complete with the tattoo showing that she was rounded up from the wild somewhere out west.

Lady was also a sweet horse, I think she was a barrel racer or perhaps a roping horse in her other life, when I got on her for the first ride she went right to work, looking for something to go around or round up. Once I got her settled down into 'gentle riding horse' mode, she became a true pleasure to ride. It was hard to decide who to ride, they were both so willing and gentle.

I fed them as much grain and hay as they wanted and each put on the additional 100 or so pounds they needed to be normal looking again. I sold them to a young couple with small children. When they came to look at the horses the decision to buy was an easy one for them. Lady took to the young wife very well and the husband fell in love with Cricket. Job well done, the horses survived a year of so of starvation, learned to trust people again and now have a great home. That's my 10th picture and I'm sticking to it! Who's next?

Back to school,

2009-06-13T09:20:00.000-05:00

There is a movie called "Billy Madison", starring Adam Sandler. It is a silly movie about a rich, spoiled kid who's father owns a huge Hotel chain. Billy is (supposedly) an adult, out of school, but spends all his time drinking around the pool with his two loser buddies.

Daddy worked hard his whole life building the Hotel chain hoping to pass the business on to his son, but decides to give the chain to one of his employees as the son is nothing but a drunken loser that acts like a total goof and chases imaginary penguins around the mansion riding in a golf cart.

Billy gets a wake-up call when he discovers he's about to lose his inheritance, thus promising 'Daddy' he will go back to school, starting with first grade, all the way through to 12th. He promises to attend each grade for two weeks, passing each one without 'Daddy' paying off the teachers.

It's a silly movie with some toilet humor, some sexual content, (of course), and some off-color language. After some naughty school-boy behaviour, Billy settles down and graduates, his father throws a big party, Billy hooks up with his third grade teacher and gets control of the Motel Chain.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I'll just tell ya! I have been taking some practice ACT tests online, and found that I TANK in math. Ok, I worked on it, got a little better, but still have questions. What the heck are all those 'x's, r's and y's' anyway? And how the heck can I know how old susie is if she is 5 years older than joe and johnny is 6 years older that susie and the total age is 41, how the heck old is everyone? Yeah, a lot of work to do here.

So I decided to go to the grammar exam, make myself feel good with a passing grade. WRONG! Tank, flush and drain away. GEEZ. (Just read this and see what I know about grammer!)

So I goes over the exam and discovered that I know a bunch of the stuff, I didn't PAY ATTENTION to the details in the questions. Like if the words 'math, english and science' are all in a sentence, and they all are written in LOWER CASE letters, than that's IT. So, don't go and correct the dumb sentence by putting a capitol letter in front of one of them.

So after stomping around the yard muttering to my imaginary penguin, I decided to put my nose back in the game and PAY ATTENTION. Brains, anyone, brains? Send some my way please!

How big is the party gonna be?

2009-06-03T05:32:00.000-05:00

Well, funeral day is here. I went to have my 'private viewing' yesterday. guess it's some kind of southern thing, or maybe I just don't know because I haven't had the pleasure of gazing on a dead body in, oh, about 3 decades or so.

So I goes to the funeral home, the guy offers me a look-see. His query, 'do you want some private time with yore Mama" sounded more like, "Here, I'll show you where she is 'cause I know you wanna go gawk at her". He sat back in one of the chairs, looking like the man he was trying to be, 'it's ok, suhweety, I'll hold you when (not if, WHEN) you collapse cause it's so hard to lose your Mama".

"How does she look?" What a question. She looks dead. How's she supposed to look? I just wonder why they made her so hard and cold. So mean old me says, "a bit much on the makeup, lipstick? I requested no lipstick". "Oh, honey", (don't call me honey when I'm having a bad day); "Oh honey, her lips were discoloured. and her skin needed a little touching up". Ok, why did you make her smile/grimace? "Oh, honey, her mouth was hangin open, you didn't want that, did you"? Ok, ok, leave it alone, she's gone, it's just a shell, I'll never look at her grimace again, forget it.

"I washed her pretty hair, blah blah" the guy was rambling on. Know what I wanted to ask? I wanted to ask how did he suck the brain out, did he use an old Egyptian method?

Geez, I'm so weird. I didn't ask.

So Kid # 1 isn't here, work work work. (guess it could have been me stuck in California on a load and someone else doing this crap, Oh, I'm not that lucky)!

Kid #2 decided to have a temper fit, not answer his phone, not return my call. Instead he called Kid #4 and ranted about how he wants that money and I refused to allow him and his wife to stay at my house for the funeral. What a jerk, (bless his heart), I never told him he couldn't stay here, it was never even discussed. Supposedly he's not coming but I bet he sneaks in at planting time. Did I say What a Jerk? Yeah, I think so, but I'll say it again. Sheesh.

Kid #4 decided not to come, too much tension between Jerk, oops, my fingers slipped; Kid #2 and myself. Oh, and the guy he had to see to get travel rights closed 8 minutes before he got there. He still could have made the trip but he's got his own thing with anger and confusion. He wants pics of the funeral. Icky, but ok.

So that leaves Kid #3, me, mahself and I, bless mah heart, an Uncle, Aunt and one cousin. And half the neighbor hood, hospice, nursing home staff, maybe a few crows and, if we're lucky, an armadillo or two. Cat has to stay home, poor creature, he's been a mess. How do cats know, anyway? Oh, and maybe a raindrop or two might show up, who knows?

So, goodbye, Mom, see ya on the other side.

Another day at the nursing home

2009-06-01T20:55:00.000-05:00

Well, yesterday marked the end of one phase and the beginning of a new one. Sort of, kind of I guess..

Ok, well, the funeral stuff is all arranged, I wish it was tomorrow and not the day AFTER tomorrow. Just want to get it done.

Yeah! I can sleep now with both ears closed, not wonder if tonight will be the night-of-the-fatal-phone-call. So why am I awake? SHEESH!

I took the wheel chair back this morning, guess I'm not ready to use it myself and I was tired of looking at it anyway. I'm glad the nursing home thing is over. Yesterday an old man caught my attention, calling to me and holding his hand out. Dumb dumb here reached out towards him and he lunged for me and grabbed my wrists, pulling me in towards me. Aw geez, old man, don't make me slug you, he had a grip that was strong enough to almost drop me to my knees. (And I'm not going to my knees for any old dirt bag, let me tell you!)

I pried myself loose, I didn't care if I had to walk away with out anything past my wrists, let the old geezer have my hands, but LET ME GO! Dirty old slob, that'll learn me to reach out to some old fart that looks weak. I said something to the nurse, she said no woman there dares get too close to him unless they know he's sleeping. Good grief. Bless his heart...

I went out to the patio as I waited for Maternal Figure to become an angel or what-ever, and I heard one of the nurses talking, no, gossiping about another. "She shore is fond of being late for work, bless her heart," one said. Another said, "Yay-ya, and she shore is puttin' on, Bless her heart". (Gaining weight, is what 'puttin' on' means). Bless their hearts...

Ok, I couldn't stand it anymore, what's up with this gossip followed by 'bless her heart' anyway?
The ladies giggled and snickered. Come to find out, an insult or gossip followed by 'bless her heart' makes the bad talk ok. After all, asking for some kind of blessing is a good thing, right?

Yeah, but, (I can't leave stuff alone, had to push the parameter), I heard someone say my Mother is SO sweet, bless her heart..... So do you say Bless her heart no matter what or is my Mother really not such a sweet thing after all? They giggled, and said, "Oh, bless your heart".

So I guess bless your/her/his heart is just an ending, like a period. "That guy's a jerk. Period". Or, said in southern-ese, "That guy's a jerk, bless his heart".

So, Y'all have a goodun, C'mon back now, ya hear? Bless your heart.

By this, I know you love me

2009-05-31T06:00:00.000-05:00

It's been a long hard 36 hours. About 36 hours ago, I received a call from the nursing home telling me to come in, she's dying.

I hopped out of the tub, swished a towel over my dripping bod and threw some cloths on, and drove to the nursing home with several thoughts running through my head as fast as my car was running down the road.

It's over, she'll finally find rest:

It's over, I'll finally find rest:

I hope I can get my hair combed out after it gets dry:

I wonder if she'll be alive when I get there...

She was alive when I got there, in great distress. Hospice was there, along with most of the night crew of the nursing home. Ah, a party in Mom's room! She'll appreciate the attention, or will she?

The 'death rattle' was very loud and distressing to all of us. A handful of sad eyes watched me come, the party parted like the red sea so I could get to her side. They gave me her vitals, pretty darned good reading for a dying person, and showed me her leg, all black from lack of oxygen. Ok, it'll be over soon.

As the hours dragged by, the nurses and hospice noted that only one leg had turned black and cold, "I've never seen anything like it, one leg bad, one leg good, usually oxygen deprivation is bilateral", they told me. Yeah, well, Mom has to be different.

Nursing staff stopped in after hours, one lady on the way home from watching her grandson play a ball game, the administrator stayed long past her 'going home' time, actually she stayed till 3am. Hmm, these people really like 'Miss LaDonna'! Everyone had tears, oh, Miss LaDonna was their best resident, never complained, the sickest one in the home, blah-blah...

I started reviewing, in my mind, the past. Life with her as a child, as an adult and mostly life over the past 9 months since she came here. I looked around at the mountain of stuff we had brought her that she never used. Oh, how much stuff I have to pack up and take home. Throw it out? Give it away? Take it to a yard sale? I was beginning to see what I would be doing for the next several weeks after I buried her. Oh, yeah, give my brother back his radio and electric blanket. Hoorah, that much is figured out!

I remembered my sister, helping her move stuff around when she was here at the house, helping her pack for her new life at the nursing home. One sentence FS said to her rides along in my mind, "Hold on Mom, you're moving at lightning speed, I can't keep up", were FS's words to Mom as orders were snapped out one on top of the other.

I thought of the electric keyboard in her room, here at the house. Mom wanted it moved around in her room, to make it easier to play. She never touched it. Then she wanted it moved to the living room, so she could play it out there. Oh, and put this stand here and bring that over here, put this in that drawer, get me a power cord.... run, run, back and forth, from her room to the living room, move stuff around, finally wear her out and get peace as she finally put her busy head on the pillow and took a break.

She never used that stuff, eventually asking to have it moved back into her room. This time it was older brother running at 'lightning speed' trying to keep up with her instructions and please her.

Rearranging the house several times, asking for meals that never got eaten, requesting items from a store that was almost 40 miles away, (sometimes stuff that ended up being food for the pet rat), bring me this, go get that, turn the TV up, down, change the channel, that was her main activity here.

What the heck is up with this woman, anyway? Then I remembered going to visit her on the way back from California in my truck. I got permission(from her landlady) to park a Peterbuilt at her house. How was the visit? Well, pretty good, short, only 7 hours, (all I could take, to be honest), but during the visit she decided I needed to go grocery shopping for her. What? "Don't you get your groceries delivered", I asked. Well, yeah, but she wanted ME to go for her. I reminded her that all I had was a big truck. So what, go anyway, was the end result.

So I go to the store, in a 379 Peterbuilt with a 72 inch bunk. That's the truck with the big square nose, L-O-N-G nose, with a Condo Sleeper, big, big. I dragged 7 bags of groceries out and was piling them in the truck, fully aware that I was getting stares of astonishment from other shoppers. This was a small town, big trucks aren't a regular sight there!

So here she lies, in the bed, should have been dead a week ago, and surely shouldn't be alive with one dead leg, shut-down kidneys and no real food for the last few weeks. Blood pressure 118-over-48. 48, geez, that's low! But she's still alive, getting turned, re-arranged, diaper checked, morphine given, and lots of kisses, touches, and 'I love You's" from the staff.

Why? My answer? By moving stuff around over and over, buying stuff that won't be used, and all this fussing over her at the nursing home, by all that, she knows she is loved. What are her last un-spoken words to the world?

"Do this for me and I'll know you love me".

On Vacation

2009-05-26T15:18:00.000-05:00

I took the day off today. I spent a few hours this morning re-addressing some old, OLD stuff. Old like about 35 years ago old. Ticks me right the heck off when stuff creeps up on me and drop kicks me to the floor, but I've learned to roll with it, things get better MUCH faster if I roll with the punch.

So I rolled with the punch, had a good sniffling, hitching and snotty cry and decided to take the day off. I'm glad I did, for several reasons.

One: She slept all day anyway.
Two: She eats for other people if she gets hungry enough, and
Three: I'm not the all-powerful-saviour-of-the-world/family anyhoo!

What did I do on my day off? I went to visit a friend, bought myself a big fat box of Frosted Flakes and came home to pig out. I mowed the lawn, weeded my flower bed and now? I'm drinking wine like a person who deserves the best. (thought I was gonna say 'wine-o, huh?)

I think I'll take a long hot bath, get in my jammies, (yeah, so what it's only 3:30 in the afternoon, it's 5 O'Clock somewhere!) and watch movies. I hear the cheese and crackers calling me, and my wine glass is almost empty.

Have a great day, everyone.

Dummer Ants

2009-05-26T05:58:00.000-05:00

It's been an up-and-down week, watching poor ol' maternal figure cry out in pain as the nurses shuffle her around to change her bedding, mess with her butt sore and try unsuccessfully to keep her on her side. She can cough better on her side, not to mention keeping off the horrible looking hole in her back side.

The poor thing is in a diaper and goes potty from a laying down position on a bed pan. I feel more sorry for her loss of dignity than I could ever feel sorrow for her pain and impending loss of life.... But she has a way of making it all better. Sort of like kissing a boo-boo better when I was 5 years old.

The other day I had a spoon of some kind of nursing home slop they call lunch and she was trying to grab for the spoon. Instead, she latched onto my index finger and pulled, pulled harder, and pulled yet again as a puzzled look crept onto her face. "You're pulling my finger, Mom" I told her. "Oops!" she said as the puzzled look was replaced by a small grin. Her eyes can't see, haven't seen a thing sans hallucinations for years, but that doesn't mean those eyes can't twinkle with mischief! "I might regret that" was her answer. Silly woman, I chuckled with her.

She tries so hard to chat, but her mouth simply doesn't obey her brain-commands sometimes, she was mumbling something about ant poison. Remembering a Murder Mystery we watched on TV a hundred years ago when she was still here at the house? Not sure... But I got the jist, we're talking about ant poison now, ok, I can follow that line.

I launch into a story about how I put ant poison on the ant hills in my yard but instead of dying, the ants simply move 2 feet over and start a new hill. In all her wisdom, (for surely old people have much wisdom to share); "Maybe you need dummer ants" she mumbles. I snicker, giggle, she smiles.

I popped in to see her the other day, she grabs for me in a panic, "WHERE'S THE DOG!?" The dog? The dog is with Ron. "Ok", she says, then; "WHERE'S THE CAT, WHERE IS THE CAT????" Her hand was flailing around, looking for my hand, or maybe the cat.

"The cat is home, on the porch", I tell her. "Oh", she settles down again. Next question from her was; "Are you going to Las Cruces today"? Las Cruces? I don't think so! I tell her no, she asks why and I explain that Las Cruces is a long, long way. She asked where I was going if not Las Cruces, I tell her I'm going home. "HOME?? That's an awful long drive, isn't it"? she asks

Aww, geez, she thinks she's back in New Mexico. I explained that home was close, about 25 miles, "Just up the road, Mom, real close". I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she tried to process that information. I saw her face relax as she separated the un-known from the known. 'Oh, yeah, I'm in Tennessee' was the read on her face. Poor thing...

I talked her into going outside for lunch yesterday, the nurses lifted her into a geri-chair and wheeled her outside. It was really nice out, about 70 degrees with a fantastic breeze. The breeze was trying to blow in some rain but only managed to blow in a TON of humidity. This made her cough uncontrollably and she was rushed back inside for her oxygen. Oh, I felt bad, but I'm glad she got to go outside. I think if she had her druthers, she'd die outside as opposed to inside....
The nurses shuffled her back into bed, amid her cries of pain. (She reminds me of my liquid cat, just hanging there in their arms). When they got her back on the bed they said "There, that wasn't so bad, right?" Mom said she had her doubts, that they might drop her. Then she said, "But I bounce, bounce like a ball". I guess she should know, she's been dropped here, once by me, once by my brother. Yes, she bounces like a ball, but more than physically, she bounces back to 'happy' even in the face of death. What can I learn from her?

Dogs, People and God

2009-05-11T15:33:00.001-05:00

I went to see the Maternal Figure this morning, seems she had another mini-stroke. She is so weak that when she sat up in bed she listed over like the leaning tower of Pisa on soft ground.

She is so weak that she can't cough, can't hold her coffee cup or spoon, can't open a soda bottle, let alone get it to her lips and tip it up...

I had a dog, a mini- Pekingnese, Kelita was her name. I knew when she was 6 weeks old that her life would be short. She had seziures, allergies and a whole host of secondary problems caused by the medicines she was on. The vet told me that every day past age 6 would be a blessing. I was blessed for almost a year after age 6. At that time, I had to do the most awful thing, kiss her goodbye and let the vet give her the fatal shot.

Starting with the day I brought her home, I became her god, the one and only that provided her food, warmth, care, love and dicipline, and, ultimately, I provided her with a time of death. Why did I 'take my dog out' of this life? Because she was suffering unbelievable misery and was slowly dying a horrible day-by-day death and I, as her god, chose to end her misery. I bought her her favorite n0-no food, a big fat hotdog, took her to her favorite park and gave the best day I could have before the final visit to the vet.

Up until that day, she was my god-example. She loved me unconditionally, adored me even if I was having a grouchy day, and always, ALWAYS forgave me no strings attached.

So who is this guy in the sky with a lightning bolt coming out of the end of his finger, the guy with the long white beard and infinite wisdom anyway? You know, the guy who loves us so much he let his son die a horrible death to save us from our sins: The guy who loves us unconditionally, the guy who provides even the birds and the foxes, the guy who will makes the very stones cry out in worship of him if we don't get around to it once in a while? AND forgive us for forgetting him once in a while.

My {sinful} question is this: If this big guy that brought-us-into-this-world-and-can-take-us-out loves us half as much as I loved my dog, then why are people allowed to writhe in pain, gasp for breath, puke up every meal and live in complete misery until they drown in their own phlegm? My question is this: Why doesn't this all-knowing-all-loving god just take her home or where ever dead people go?

The church people say suffering comes from sin. Well I submit that the Maternal Figure hasn't exactly done the right thing every time but I vehemently deny that she acted in some kind of sin knowingly. This woman has scratched and struggled her whole life, and sin came TO her, not FROM her.

So why is she 'allowed' to lay in such pain, have her dignity thrown in the toilet and struggle for every breath? If she were my dog, she would be out of her misery by now. Go ahead, think I'm evil and hateful, I don't care. Watching a proud, independent woman suffer like this has added 10 years to my life and in my wee little know-nothing wisdom, it's not fair, what she's going through! God, if you're listening or reading, what the heck are you doing????

Why am I so Mad??

2009-05-10T05:34:00.000-05:00

Well, I''ll just tell ya, yep, that's what I''l do! Seems FS and DD's brother came sneaking up here to visit our Mother. What's the big deal about that? After all, I can't keep him from his 'Mama', he is her son, after all... Isn't it nice that a son drives 650 miles to see his Mother?

Of course it is. VERY sweet, in fact. So why am I so Mad about it?

This hot, seething anger goes back a little ways, so I'll begin back there:

He was coming up here and staying a month at a time to 'help' me take care of her when she was living with me. Time away from his loving wife, home, all that. Sweet, really nice of the guy, of course. How many people drop their lives to take care of a person who dropped us so many years ago?

Oh yeah, I did just that, didn't I? Quit two jobs and threw my career to the wind to take care of her. So who's sweeter, him or me? After all, he didn't quit a job for her.. But that's not the point.
What is the point, why am I so Mad about a son dropping and running to see his 'Mama'?
I'm so Mad because for every trip he made up here, Mom coughed up around 600 buckaroos for him, travel expenses, cigarettes, food, ok, I was sorta ok with that, it was her money and her choice.
So, how helpful was he? He did bust his butt to build her a wheel chair ramp. A neighbor and I helped him, it was never completed but it was functional.. that was nice too...

AND he made a mess in the house, sent me to the store for his special foods, "I want THIS brand, not what you bought" and "I have to have THIS kind of cereal" and of course a carton of cigarettes every 4th or 5th day.. Oh, and don't forget, "I'm stuck in this house with Mom while you run to the store every few days, that's not fair"..... I offered him (yet) MORE money to go to the park, eat out, go to the store, get out of the house. I guess complaining was more fun than going out for a free restaurant meal gas money included... Yeah, I was Miffed, but not Mad, not yet anyway.

What made me mad was the bottle of whisky, the huge coffee can full of pain pills, the beautiful day and night sleep they afforded him, and the fact that his bucket of pills weren't enough, he had to slip his nasty hands into our Mother's pain pills too, then lie about it. NOW I was getting
MAD.
I gave him money and sent him home, never let him come back again. He's Mad at me for that. Oh well, bud, sucks to be you. His wife got on the phone with me to remind me that I can't keep him away from his 'Mama" and that he was depressed. I should have told her what I was thinking, but I was too nice. Always too nice..... I should have told her that she's married to a pill-popping lazy mooch and if he got a job maybe he wouldn't be so "Deprayussed". (Maybe the world should be Depraved but I digress..

So I calls him and tells him Mom isn't doing so well and maybe he should think about coming to see her soon. Answer? "I don't have any Moneeeeyyyyy, You need to send me Moneeeeyyyy".

Eye Roll here, well, maybe Eye Roll along with a heavy Sigh.. Ok, I tell him I'll take a day or two and figure out a way to provide him with a {all expense paid vacation} way to get here.
I called my other brother who lives a few hours south of moocher, oops, above mentioned brother, (must be a typo in the end of my fingers..) and other brother says he will pick up mooc, I mean above mentioned brother and let him ride along next weekend.

Since I don't have travel dates yet, I didn't call poor pitiful {yes, I'm Mad} brother and let him know he's the proud winner of an all expense paid weekend get-away to Tennessee.
Seems Moocher, let-my-wife-support-me-and clean-up-after-me lazy pill popping brother suddenly must have won the lottery, because, GUESS WHAT? He's here in Tennessee.
Problem? He snuck up here and never let me off the hook of finding his all expense paid way up here.

So, words that come to mind... Sneak, Liar, Mooch, Trouble Maker, and Money Grubber. Pill Popper, Cry Baby, I'm not Mad because he came to see the Maternal Figure as she lies dying in the bed, I'm Mad because of all of the above-mentioned. And you know what? If he upsets Mom like he did on the phone, I'm gonna be more than Mad, I'm going to zoom right up to PISSED OFF. Guess I should leave the gun home, huh?

Confused?? !!!

2009-05-04T19:12:00.000-05:00

Life can be confusing... take my new job for example. Too many hands in the vegetable patch. I have a boss/owner. I have a farm manager, old fella, he is, all of about 25. I have a Chicken manager, young thing, pretty girl, tom-boyish type, all of 22.

I like her, hard worker, talker, she is, stories upon stories. "I've been to Hawaii" and "My niece and nephew are the best things since sliced bread", "Wanna hear my life's story? Great, my dad, my mother, my grandma, blah, blah". Great girl, I like her.

I'll start the story with her. She's worked there for a year, got promoted (if you can call it that) to supervisor over the chickens. Now, she KNOWS her job, does it well, and works her tail off. Explains what she wants her underlings to do in very clear terms, gets tough on the ones that want to goof off, yeah, I like her. I wonder if she's related to me? She's about as bossy as I am! Yup, I like her a lot. She got a day off, after working every day for two weeks straight. She got a ride to her sisters house, which is something like 80 miles from her car and her house. Mr. Farm Manager called her three, count-em, THREE times on her day off, doubted her honesty about where she was and what she was doing, made her cry three, count-em, THREE times that day. Why did he do that? He wanted her to come in NOW on her day off. Creep.

Speaking of three, I'll move on to my three, count-em THREE supervisors I had to deal with on Saturday. Mr. Farm Manager told me to work with supervisor One. Ok, One-guy is cool, gave me things to do, explained clearly what he wanted, we worked well together for about 1/2 and hour, until Mr. Hot-Shot Farm Manager came along, asked me what I was doing. Upon hearing my answer, his reply was that I wasn't to do things the way Mr. One told me, I was to do things HIS (Hot Shot's) way. OOOKAAAY. One went away dejected.

THEN supervisor Two comes along, asks me what I'm doing, I explain and get, "I'm running this operation, don't listen to anyone but me".

Great. Who's in charge here anyway? I looked around at the dozen or so people trying to get the job done, and I saw Organized Chaos. It took us about 12 hours to get 6 hours of work done. I've only been on the job one week and I'm flat-out exhausted.

I HATE, HATE, HATE to quit a job. Especially after one week. I think I'm going to end up doing just what I hate. These people are gonna kill me, either from stress or exhaustion.

I came home and checked my plants, the ones I planted in those new topsy turvy things, I feel like those plants, wondering which way is up..

Now I'm a tough cookie, see me on my brother's Harley. (Heh, looks like I'm riding, huh?), I can deal with confused plants, not confused people in the work place..
AND my cat hates me for leaving him every day. SHEESH!!!!

Cats, trees and panic

2009-04-28T19:21:00.000-05:00

It's been an eventful day, the cat woke up at his usual ungodly hour, about 5:15. Seeing I was wasting a good day snoozing, he decided to wake me up, like he does every morning.
I feel a paw tap my forehead, he nuzzles my hair, 'mrrrrow'? he asks.

'Go 'way', I mumble to him. OH! She spoke to me! 'Mrrrrrowwww', he nuzzles and says with all the love he can muster. 'Go 'way', I mumble again. He bites my neck, ever so gently, purrr, purrrr, mrowwww, '"OK! Outside? Let's go outside", I tell him.

Goody goody gumdrops, she's up! HEY, it's dark out here, Hey, hey, you're on the wrong side of the door!! He looks back at me as I shut the door and head for the bed. I'm NOT getting up to play 'chase the string' at this hour today!!

I flopped on the bed and slept peacefully for another 2 hours. Mmmm, coffee, I feel so rested. I wonder out on the porch, still in my jammies to drink my coffee and enjoy a wonderfully warm morning. ( I live in 1850 so I can sit on the porch in my jammies).

As I settled in my rocking chair and prepare my ears to hear the birds singing I hear this desparate, frightened "Rowwwllll???" "Meoww?!!" Translated: "Help me, Help me, I'm hurt/dying/beatup/run over by a car/being eaten by a giant rabbit"!!!!!!

"C'mere Smoke" I call. Desperate MEOWW comes back from across the road. Aw, geez, what am I going to find, blood, guts, broken limbs, bones hanging out, gory images running through my mind as I wonder out into the road calling my dear dying cat. (Oh, yeah, I'm still in my jammies and barefoot).

As I stood on the double yellow line in the middle of the road, a new and equally frightening thought runs through my head; The men in the white coats and a huge butterfly net are going to come along and the last thing I'll hear is "Got Her"!

Ok, cat's going to have to die alone or wait for me to get dressed. "Smoke", I call, "I'll be right back". A panicked "Don't leave me!" howl follows me across the yard as I head back to the house. Good grief, how ugly is this going to be when I get back and find a furry bloody mess?

I rushed in, threw some cloths and shoes on and came back out, starting across the road, still calling for my dear kitty, his panicked screams still rushing out of the woods. I don't see him, should I go in? What if there's a dinosaur over there eating him alive? What if I become desert?

"Smokey", I called, my eyes traveling over the weeds, trying to see in the jungle where the crying was... Oh, look UP, what's that in the tree? It sounds really big, should I run for my life?

"Mrowwwww?" the cat asks as I back up. Oh, that's HIM coming down, dumb cat, got himself treed!!!! He found the ground and ran full speed for me, was that really my cat? Wasn't sure, he looked bigger, oh, he's puffed out! I don't know what treed him or why he had his fur standing straight up but at least he was alive and in one piece. Never a dull moment with that cat! Gotta love him!

Gas is good

2009-04-14T13:40:00.000-05:00

I guess this story starts at a panera bread, where I sat with a friend eating broccoli and cheese soup washed down with 1/2 an ham and cheese sandwich. MMM, mmm, good, except now my mouth feels funny, some kind of lump.... Oh, CRAP, I broke a tooth.

Must have been that crunchy soup.. oh, maybe the crunch was my tooth part going down..

Hey, calcium for the day, right? I spent the rest of the weekend trying not to slice and dice, and consequently, eat my tongue on the sharp edge of what remained of my tooth.

Fast forward about 850 miles, (I broke the tooth on an away trip for Easter), sitting on the edge of Mom's bed in the nursing home. Telling her I broke a tooth and have an appointment the next morning so I might not make it in to see the the next day.

Response?

"Bring me some more books on tape." "The food is horrible here, I haven't eaten in days, bring me food." "Bring me batteries for my radio"

MOM, I'll be feeling like CRAP tomorrow, I might not make it!! Answer? "Take a nap in the car before you come here, and don't forget my books on tape..... Bring me some hot soup, too".

OHHHH! Yeah, dummy, THIS IS WHY SHE IS IN A NURSING HOME!!! The woman has no heart for other's needs. I don't think she ever has... Ok, maybe that's harsh. But being awakened at 3am to change the channel on the tv makes a person a little rough around the edges. Grrrr.

So I went to the dentist this morning, quaking in my brave truck-driver boots. (please don't hurt me, Mr. Dentist, please, please??)

Mr. Dentist was so nice, he told his assistant to give me some gas. (Is that why they all wear masks? Oh, wrong kind of gas..)

The mask goes on and I hear the assistant say something like "better you breathing this stuff than me." What The F*** Does That Mean??? I don't care, I'm scared, I'm scared and I'm scared. I have a terrible allergy to pain, needles and the little drilling sound in my mouth that translates like a oil rig digging 7 miles deep. So go ahead, gas me, if I die, I won't have to get my tooth fixed.

I started to relax, and my mind went to Kirsty Alley in the movie "Look Who's Talking". She is laying on the birthing table (I'm laying on the torture table), she's in pain, (I'm in pain), she wants the pain to stop, ( well, DUH!) and they give her something for pain. (Me too, don't forget about meeeee!)

Her eyes get dreamy, her body relaxes, "Ah, " Kirsty and I say together, "that's so much better".

I thought for a moment I would be able to sleep through the whole thing, 3 and 1/2 hours of drilling, grinding, more shots, shivering cold from the gas, open wide, a little pressure, turn right..... The words are far away. Is the buzzing I hear in my head or around my head? I don't know... I think I dozed, not sure. Now I'm home, had my extended nap, I haven't found my face yet but I'm sure it's there....

Mom left a message for me to bring her batteries. Sorry Mom, you have batteries in your drawer there, I'm in my pajama's and staying that way.

HOT MAMA

2009-04-07T18:52:00.000-05:00

Well, I went to see Mom today at the nursing home. She wasn't in her room but a quick check on my watch told me it was smoke hour so I bee-lined it to the smoke room, and, lo, there she was, head to head with her new friend Vi. Wait.... did I say new friend? I though Mom didn't make friends?! Let alone become friendly enough to be leaning towards her new friend (WHAT?) and gossiping.

Now, wait, dear reader, this is not a fiction story, this is the Gawd-Awful Truth!

"Hi Mom" I sing as I come in, feeling my way through the blue air in the six by six room. There are 4 people in the room, all puffing away and, wait for it, wait, wait for it....

Gossiping. NO, really! 'Did you hear about the old lady that went out on a stretcher today?' was one thing I [think] I heard as I peered through the smoke.

"Oh, is that you, thing one, I mean thing three?" (truth is she said our names but I digress)
"It's me, Mom" I answer. "Oh, Vi and I were just talking about you!". I'm thinking for the gazillianth time, what did they do with my real mother and I respond, "I hope it was all good!"

New-Friend-Vi responds "It was all good!" snerk, giggle, puff, slobber, "can you put my ciggarette out?" askes one of the human chimneys, DC. I dutifully put his cig out in the ashtray while Mom says "Mr. Thurmon pushes my wheel chair sometimes, don't you Mr. Thurmon? Is he in here?"

"Uh, yeah, he's sitting in the corner, Mom," I say. Mom says, sort of primping-like, "He pushes my wheel chair sometimes" again.

I look at the nurse standing guard at the door, questioning with my eyes, 'what did you do with my mother? I shrug, she shrugs.

"Mr. Thurmon, do you push Mom's wheel chair for her?" I ask the old guy. He has a four claw cane sitting beside him, never heard him say much although he did sing 'In the Garden' with me on Friday..

"Yuh" he says. I look at Mom, she's still primping. She actually LIKES it that Mr. Thurmon pushes her wheel chair! Oh, wait, there's more. Wait for it.....

"DC pushes my chair too sometimes," says this little old lady I don't really know with a smile on her face.

"I guess these men like pushing a good looking lady's chair down the hall, huh, Mom?" No answer, just more primping.

"Here, put my cig out and lets go back to the room". I guess the flirt moment was over. She calls out over her shoulder to her New-Friend-Vi, "See you in an hour, Vi!"

Maybe I'll wake up soon, maybe I don't want to.... The other day she said she hated womens sports. "Why?" asks the dumb daughter in ALL innocence. Answer? Because she doesn't like all that stuff flopping around (under their shirts) when they run. WTF? (Who are you, lady, cause you're not my prim and proper mother, you know, the one who scolds ME for having a POTTY mouth??!!)

Oh, I am so dumb, I ask her if she likes Men's sports. OMG, I got an answer. "Oh, yes, they have more interesting stuff flopping around."

Ok. Whatever. At least it was a happy visit!

Instant slow motion

2009-04-01T17:21:00.000-05:00

I got up this morning with a list of things I needed to do for the maternal figure. Gather some short sleeve shirts, some tapes, writing paper, sweat shirts. The cloths needed to be washed so like the dutiful daughter (pre-teen eye roll here) I am, I started the wash.

I love doing the wash, no, really, I love doing the wash. I use a wringer washer dated sometime in the '40's and it still works like a charm. I'm dated sometime in the '50's and I wish I worked that well! But I digress:

Got the first load washed, wrung, rinsed and wrung again, stuffed a basket of cloths under my arm and grabbed a bucket of cloths pins. I'm such a good daughter. (pre-teen eye roll here).

The weather channel told me it was 54 degrees out there. That's 32 degrees above freezing.

So, I'm wondering how I managed to go skiing on the back steps that defied the thermometer and remained icy....

It happened so fast! Well, the knowledge that I was on a slippery slope happened fast. Once it was in my head that I was going to get from the top of the porch to the ground at lightning speed, time went instantly into slow-mo.

The whole deal was pretty slick. No, not slippery slick, well, yeah, slippery slick. Let me try again.

The whole deal was pretty cool! Hmm, Well, DUH, things can be icy only if it's cool. Let me try again.

I pulled this fall off pretty well. Hmm, well, no, gravity pulled me down.......

ANYWAY! My heal slipped on the top step and from there my heal slipped of each step until my foot hit the ground. So, Mr. Gravity, you pulled me down the steps but I stayed upright all the way down! But, the ground must not have had the same weather information the steps had, because the ground was NOT slippery. The ground seemed to be acting as though it really was 54 degrees out, so as a result, my foot STOPPED moving as soon as it hit the {warm} HUH? ground.

That's when gravity won the battle with me. But fear not, I won the war on this fall, I jumped up, looked around to make sure I wasn't SEEN by anyone and then looked to see how bad the laundry and cloths pins fared.

The laundry basket was sitting innocently, full, not dirty, as though I put it down gently. HUH! The cloths pins didn't do so well. As I was S-L-O-W-L-Y sliding bump, bump, bump down the stairs (at lightning speed), I found enough time to notice that my cloths pins were jumping out of the bucket like rats jumping off a sinking ship.

So I survived a 4 and a half foot drop that had 4 boards in the way that could have... oh I don't want to think of how those stair/boards could have hurt me, and came out of it with a few bruises, a bucket of scattered cloths pins and a bunch of wounded pride.

Rafting on Family Rapids

2009-03-31T17:09:00.000-05:00

Riding a raft sounds like a lot of fun until you find yourself on someone elses raft. Friday I found myself riding the rapids that only a certain maternally biologically connected person can produce.

Seems I'm the most UN trustworthy person in the whole wide world. I'm a thief and a liar. For these great titles (great if you are Baby Face Nelson) I have boxed up and stored my entire way of life for the past eight months. I greatly feared finding myself out in some unmanageable storm for dropping everything and making a marathon run to New Mexico. I did it anyway.

Why? I've been asked that question by everyone from Hospice to my neighbor to myself.

Why? Only answer I can come up with is that I wanted desperately to fix something I thought was broken. A relationship. Well, after I get done beating myself up for trying to fix the world....... (How old am I? How many times have I tried to fix other people? When will I learn?) I woke up to a friday from hell.

Woke up is the key word here... I had to take about 3 and a half days off just to get my temper/sadness/hurt under control. Ok. I'm better, right? Nooooooo. Well, yeah, oh, HELL and DAMNATION, I will survive this but I ain't liking it a single bit right now.

So. I picked two really pretty flowers that bloomed in my yard and after steeling myself got in the car and drove back to the nursing home. Feeling.... well, feeling guilty as Baby Face Nelson should have felt. You see, FS got a call from little ol lonely lady this morning and FS had to cry alone. What a shit I felt like, I felt like I dumped the whole world in FS's lap and went to a party without a care in the world.

With a pounding heart and emotions like lava flowing down the mountain into the sea I took my flowers and entered lonely lil' ol' lady's room with a bright "Hi there!"

Alec Trebbec waited patiently to find out the answer to his bonus question: Bing, bing, bing bing... the music goes. Answer, "What is a woman happy to see a family member'?

Correct! You win the round! "OH! Is that you?" Yeah, yeah, it's me, are you mean or nice today? Are you a good witch or a bad witch? I'm such a coward and if I only had a brain....

She was a good witch today, loved the flowers, "Take me outside for a cig." "Get this, do that, bring this from home, take that home with you". Hmmm. all is well on the front lines.
Sort of.

She has a teddy hanging on the door, it's a big, blue, fuzzy, soft bunny. I took it down so she could feel it. To my great surprise, she hugged it, kissed it and hugged it again. Now she's a typical lil' ol' lady in a nursing home joining the ranks of women holding baby dolls and teddy's. I don't get it, she's my mother. Never did mushy stuff. Hey Nurse, Whadya do with my mother?

I asked the nurse to give her the big, blue, fuzzy, soft bunny to her when they get done using it for an easter decoration on her door. They said they would.

All is well on Tuesday. Wonder what Wednesday, or Friday will bring? Life on the edge. Never a dull moment!

AMBUSHED!!!!

2009-03-15T07:59:00.000-05:00

Yep. I was ambushed. First of all, Fed Ex came to deliver a package, but it wasn't for Mom, yeah, it was diapers but not adult diapers.

Sorry guys, those go next door to the lady with the baby. Wait, guys???

Fed Ex comes in pairs? OH! They don't have Fed Ex cloths, Sumptin's wrong here. I tried to close the door on them but my door was rotten, wouldn't close or latch. Non-Fed Ex number one jammed his arm in the door, I fought him and won, or so I thought..... I twisted the dead bolt but the door was dead so it didn't work.

Crap, what to do now? Oh, I know, keep your head here... Phone is in my pocket, back door is this way, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!

Let em have the house, I'm outta here.

As I headed out the back door I glanced back to see the two Non-Fed Ex guys busting through the front door.

Naked. Not even good looking. Damn my luck...... Guys are so weird, they can undress so slowly but can't seem to jump on any other given duties any faster than the ever ready bunny deplete of battery power.....

Crap. I'm gonna die today. I ran, they chased, caught up with me and...

And......... I woke up. I spent the next several hours sneaking around the house, ambushing dark, empty spaces and double, triple and a gazillion times checking the locks, dead bolts, and no, the door wasn't rotted. Lock it, yank on it, inspect it, ok, it's good.

So I wasn't really ambushed, or was I? My killer-protecto-cat followed me around the house, he's my man-cat sans all the parts.... He'll watch out for me, right?

Ok. Watch the cat, if something weird is happening around here, wouldn't he sense it? Of course he would, he's an Animal. 6th sense and all that... Cat's not freaking out, so all must be well.

If I had a dollar for every time I checked the house that night Obama's stimulus package would be paid for many times over.

Now it's getting really late and I've worn myself down enough that I think I can go back to sleep. Ok, one more check for the road.... And I was ambushed AGAIN!!!!

Seems Protecto-Cat was having a good time watching me pass back and forth and decided to have a little fun with the end of my bathrobe as it swished past him in the living room.

As I passed the coffee table he charged out and wrapped his killer-kitty paws around my legs. "Ha, GOTTCH!". My heart skipped enough beats to have me declared legally dead. I grabbed him up, tossed him into the bedroom and locked the bedroom door.

What a night!

I spent the next several hours

Clones

2009-03-13T08:39:00.000-05:00

Cloning is a process whereby a scientist in a deep underground laboratory somewhere in a vast desert far away captures cells and grows them into things like exact replicas or maybe cows with extra legs.

So, the theory is that if I cloned myself then the world would be subjected to another me for another X amount of years after I'm gone or maybe (hee hee hee hee) two or three of me while me, the original, is still walking around. Ohh, that would be a pretty powerful tool in a relationship, "Honey, if you don't do what I want I'm gonna pull three more of me to gang up on you". "Yes dear" would be the standard answer.

Oh Yeahhhhh!!

I've been told I'm a clone, a clone of my own mother. AHHHHGGGGHHHHH! NOOOOOOO! Say it isn't so!!!!! Oh, wait, she's intelligent, good looking, talented...... ok, NO!!!! Yeah, NO!!!!!

It could be true, I've heard her voice and words come out of my own mouth, directed towards my children when she was miles and MILES away. Now I know she's a Mother, has eyes in the back of her head, and I truly believe she can see through walls and across the yard..... Maybe it was her, and I only thought it was me speaking. OH NO! Maybe she's clairvoyant and, being a Mother, has special powers and she just blips into my body now and then.....

Oh, this is getting complicated... But it gets worse.

There seems to be three of us, all clones of each other. Me, Mom, and my sister. Aw geez, that could be good, it could be a disaster!

We were all three rolling/walking down the hallway at the nursing home, following our Mother as she was going to the shower. Just before my sister and I turned off to go home we heard her say to the nurse, "Do you have my shirt?" "Yes" came the answer from the poor nurse. "Do you have my pants?" "Yes", and "Do you have my Undies?" "Yes."

My sister and I looked at each other, eyebrows slightly raised and moved on to the car. On the way home my sister drove and I said "Make a left here" and "Slow down for this turn" and it hit us. There are three of us walking around in this world!

Next day we went to visit her again and our fears were confirmed. Mom said, "Don't forget to turn your headlights on when you drive home".

Clones. Some mad scientist in a deep underground laboratory in a desert far, far away met with success. He made three of us.

I wonder if his name was Dr. Fletcher?

Sunshine and Lollipops?

2009-03-13T08:20:00.000-05:00

Well today marks one week since the big, tough, scary decision to move Mom into a nursing home. Friday was a dark day indeed, Mom hated my ever living guts. Not such a surprise there, who wants to go to a nursing home? Not such a surprise there too as this isn't the first time she's hated my ever living guts.

My sister and I gave ourselves the key to the flood gates, allowing rivers of sadness, sorrow and a little bit of doubt to run it's course and trickle away into clearer thinking.

The second day of nursing nursing home life for Mom, we went to see her with GREAT trepidation, thinking she would not be any where near adjusted or even over being mad about the whole thing..(who could blame her?) and what we found was, was..... Hmmmmm.

I looked around her new room, up and down the halls, Hmmmm, everything looked normal.. people walking around, 'Good morning' and 'how are yew' and smiles coming at me... Hmmm. I looked back at Mom, 'The people are really nice here' and 'this is a nice place' sounds were coming out of her lips, through a bright face and pleasant smiling lips.... I began to wonder just what Fletcher had done this time as I was sure I was on the wrong planet.

What happened to yesterday when everyone was mad at everyone and the world seemed upside down? Ohhhhhhh, THAT'S it,

Yesterday the world was turned upside down and I fell off! I must be on some other planet right now, these people are not earthlings and the smiling woman in front of me saying pleasant things could NOT be my real mother!

Now the question was, do I want to go back to planet Earth where everything was so dark yesterday or do I want to stay on this planet where everything is sunshine and lollipops.

I like sunshine and lollipops.

I guess the sunshine and lollipops gods decided to let me stay because I've been here a week and the lady that looks like my Mother is still smiling.

Fletcher, if you tried to throw a wrench in my works, it didn't work! I think your wrench fixed a few leaking pipes, I can say that because none of us, Mom, myself or my sister have any more water problems on our faces.

I'm sure the nursing home thing isn't what we all would have chosen if we had our druthers, but I'm also sure all involved have figured out how to make the best of it. (Well, most of us but that's another story)

Sunshine and Lollipops. Thanks, Fletch.

Fletcher

2009-02-27T17:38:00.000-06:00

I know of an old woman who had a hubby named Fletcher. Now this old woman was a typical old woman, bossy, grouchy and never, NEVER at fault for anything. Even if she really, really had nothing to do with what ever went wrong at the moment, is STILL wasn't her fault.

It's all Fletcher's doins' was her mantra. Hey, I like that, I think I'll create my own Fletcher....

Since I'm in overdrive learning just whose fault life is anyway, and if I can't figure it out I'll pass it on to Fletcher. He won't care, 1) He's dead and 2) he's used to carrying the worlds burdens on his shoulders.

So if this post doesn't make any sense... I'm covered.

Thanks, Fletcher!

I've learned that, Fletcher or no, someone else's problems are not my problem. Guilt can't be piled on me by anyone but me, myself and I.
Oops, that sounds like all my other personalities are coming forth. HEY, this is MY post. It's all Fletcher's doins'.

I've learned that not everyone that acts stupid or irritating is doing it on purpose. It just could be they can't help themselves. ( Did you ever know anyone who got up in the morning and reflected on who they could irritate today?) Fletcher, this is all your doins'.

I'm starting to figure out that people that behave in hurtful ways are probably hurting a TON more than they could hurt me. (Unless I let them hurt me).

That's called having empathy. Not that I want to, I want to choke the stuffins out of mean people, but that Fletcher, well, I think Fletcher is a bit of a trouble maker! What's that sound? Oh, I bet that's the far-away-other-side snicker of ol' Fletcher. After all, it's his doins'.

I've learned that I can only fix what's broken in me, I can't save the world and the people in it that are broken. No matter who they are.

I've learned that I can build a bridge to repair a rift, and maybe I can even extend my side a little more than half way, but I can't build the whole bridge. After all, bridges have two sides, mine and Fletchers. Oh, maybe not ol' Fletch every time, but if I can't get the other side of the bridge to meet my end, well, it's Fletcher's doins'.

Ol' Fletch must be well padded, because since I let him be my burden-carrier, my head doesn't hurt so much. I simply pound my head on him instead of some hard surface. Walls of concrete are the worst place... don't try that at home, I'm the professional here....

Hey, Thanks, Fletch, you're a life saver!

Oh where, oh where did my little Mom go?

2009-02-20T17:42:00.000-06:00

My neighbor came over today to visit, well, really she came over because she figured if she didn't she would hear in the news about a woman who's head exploded and was splattered all over the room.

My head didn't explode but I'm still out of breath from running from one end of the house to the other, trying to do the wash (pee on bedding doesn't set well with me) and trying to keep Mom from falling backwards.

I would find her in a corner, her feet still trying to walk while she bumped, bumped, bumped against the wall. Her feeble voice calling out for me.... I'd get her back in her chair and tell her to SIT, STAY!! (Bad dog!) Then run back to the wash room before my wringer washer overflowed. Been there and done that, flooded the whole durned wash room last Saturday... Not doing it again if I can help it....

Run to the wash room, turn the water off, check on Mom, Oh, what corner is she in now? Not in her chair, not on the couch, not on the potty, Oh, THIS corner, how did she get there? "This way, Mom, now SIT, STAY! Ring the bell if you want to go somewhere." "I can't find the bell." Stupid answer, YES YOU CAN! screams the pre-teen in her mind. "Stay on this couch!"

All day I played hide and seek with her. In desperation I called Hospice. They sent the nurse, under the guise of checking her blood pressure but really to give me an hour to go stomp around my wonderful 11 acres. So Stomp is just what I did and it felt good! I came back in after one glorious hour and let the poor trapped nurse go. She said that Mom tried to kick her out. "You don't need to stay, my daughter can feed the horses without you here," and "My daughter is just crying wolf."

Bless the nurse, she told Mom she couldn't go until she got her paper work caught up. Another day bites the dust. Wonder what thrills tomorrow will bring?

Life saving book

2009-02-20T08:20:00.000-06:00

Well, I actually found time to read a WHOLE book, yeah! The whole durn thing! Ok, so I didn't include all the details.. I stayed up until midnight speed reading it because I borrowed it and had to return it the next day.

But that book was good enough that it's on my list of things to buy, after I get done with the three other books I bought per the author's recommendation.

The book is called 'Elder Rage, or Take my Father, Please'. And, boy oh boy, her father NEEDED to be taken, maybe to the highest cliff.... but I digress. Her story (true) is written from the anguish she felt that she could only cope with by dropping buckets of humor into it.

I don't feel so bad about being humorous about my Mother now. (Yesterday I was looking for a cliff, too).

Like me, Jacqueline (the author) dropped her career to take care of her parents. And I thought I was the only nut on earth.... Her father was manipulative, (like Mom), angry, (like Mom), had mental issues, (like Mom) and she, like me, went into her endeavour empty handed.

What to do with the money, durable power of attorney, medical questions, arguing with doctors that only saw the sweet side of her father, (hey, that sounds familiar!), where to find help, support, information, and, of course, the problem of changing gears from busy and productive to diapers and decible 16 TV's.

Her book is a MUST READ for anyone that has parents, healthy or not, it's a good look at what could be in the future and a great way to prepare for the multi-layered tangle of all the above mentioned and more.

I have ordered three more books that I found in her extensive list of recommendations. Some more midnight speed read nights on the way!!

Tomorrow

2009-02-19T19:33:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow, being a new day, brings me to the task of deciding a few things; 1) Am I going to repeat the same-ol same-ol tomorrow? And 2) If not, what am I going to do different?

My idea is to start a schedule, well, that's not really a tomorrow idea, that was a today idea. It failed miserably today, but, alas, failure is an invitation to try again and do it better.

Failure is the door that opens to better ideas, pull-your-bootstraps-up and try again. Try again? Well, sort of, remember that the definition on insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So try again means take a step back, think about what worked today and what didn't.

Sort of like posting all the day's events on a little piece of paper, shuffling through them and throwing out what ever didn't work or doesn't fit.

Today I tried to serve only decalf coffee and not serve any anxiety meds. I wanted to see if I could keep things calm without much intervention.

Ehhhhh! Wrong! About 2 this afternoon I found my self running around like a chicken with my head cut off, which I KNOW I promised myself I would STOP doing. I tried shutting the den door with a 'Bang' to let her know I mean what I say when I say 'I'm busy'.

I've decided that she is WAY more persistant and manipulative than I could have ever imagined. Today, in the course of ignoring her, she burned the end of her finger trying to light her own cig. Now she's pretty good at lighting up alone, she's been doing it blind for 15 years. I noticed she only burns the finger when I'm busy. AND she only tells me how much it hurts after I've gotten tough on her. AND her leg only hurts when she wants attention.

Yesterday I went for a one hour walk with my neighbor. I used to walk with her everyday, but the winter cold has kept us both in. We offered to plop Mom in the wheel chair and take her along. Mom declined.

When I got back from my walk, guess who WASN'T on the couch? Yep, you got it. She was coming out of the master bathroom. Not her bathroom, the bathroom in my bedroom. "Hey, Mom, are you lost?" I asked. Seems she made a left instead of a right trying to go outside.

GO OUTSIDE?????? With me gone. Oh, hail mary and ghost get me, she's trying to wonder outside onto a porch that's 4, that's FOUR feet off the ground. Alone. Making lefts instead of rights.

Guess what we argued about yestereday? Getting her a visiting care-taker so I can leave the house and not worry. She said no, I said yes.

Guess who won? Yep, me and the cat. We won and I'm getting her a sitter so I can go for a FREAKIN' walk 1/2 mile up the road and back.

To get back on track, tomorrow I'm going to schedule meals again and this time I'm going to get tough about closing the kitchen when the day is done. She ate like a fat man in a hot-dog eating contest today. I don't believe she was hungry, I believe she was trying to keep me focused on her instead of napping, talking on the phone, spending down time on the computer. "Did you feed the horses yet?" she asked. "I'm on the way out now," is my answer. "Get me a cup of coffee" was her answer.

Out came the pre-teen, mumbling under my breath. I gave her a thermos of coffee today and she didn't use it because 'the cat stole the lid'. Well, then, why didn't the coffee spill out????

Tomorrow is another day.... and I'm gonna make it a good one for me. You just watch!

TRADITION!!!!

2009-02-17T09:44:00.000-06:00

I feel like father-guy in the movie Fiddler on the Roof. His kids go their own way without his blessings, which turns his world upside down. He lives by a set of rules that govern family traditions, rules that have been in place for generation upon generation and always worked well in his world.

When his kids, one by one, upset his apple cart of safe-world processes, he cries out in anguish, "TRADITION"!!!!! I feel for him, no one wants to be thrust out of their safety zone, watch the old fly away and the new come crashing in. The father-guy's analysis of life is that life can be as unstable as the....... fiddler-guy on the roof. You could lose your footing without a moment's notice. Indeed, the whole movie is about this poor father-guy losing his grip on everything he's known about life. Family, devotion, tradition. What makes the transition from the old to the new is that at times, it seems the whole world is against his struggle to hold on to all that is safe and dear to him. His wife poo-poo's him, his kids disregard his advice and time-tested traditional role, the town gives him the ol' 'oh, now, now, old man' treatment.

In the end he finds a somewhat uncomfortabe albiet unavoidable balance between the new (that he will probably always and for ever struggle with) and maintaining some of his old traditional father-guy role style.

So I take the movie to be a lesson in balance, acceptance and boundries. Change happens. Change is like a hard rain that floods the creek and changes the creek bank. Sometimes the banks change so slowly that it's hardly noticable, other times the rain is a deluge that changes the course of the creek in a way that awes the onlooker.

My creek banks experienced a deluge about 6 months ago when the mother-gal came here to stay. My flow changed from zig to zag in the space of 4 days and 22oo miles. It has been pouring down rain in my life with the inclusion of lightning, thunder, hail, wind and power outages for months.

This week I decided to put on my mad scientist robe and drag out the weather-control macine. I fired up the emotional bulldozer and started re-shaping the flow of my out-of-control creek. I worked for many years to form the path of my creek, and dammit, TRADITION! My creek needs to flow in a manner that I, ME, your's truely, can manage.

Ok, ok, calm down. I'll leave this new curve in the banks but THIS curve needs to be re-worked. Hmmmm,, not thundering so much now.... rain's letting up, a little.... there's still a tornado trying to blow around in my mind, emotions and anxiety run high in me, but it took 6 months to discover the impact of the changes, it will take a while to get the creek back in the banks.

The fiddler-guy on the roof hasn't fallen off, but he is slipping. Good, he's still there, playing his song. Da DA da da da da..... Oh yeah, this can be done, I can do changes and still the fiddler-guy will play my song.

The father-guy in the movie ended up leaving his town, changes drove him, his family and the whole community out. The movie leaves them all saying goodby to the old and promising eachother that tomorrow will be a good one, by the seat of their pants, they will just survive, but will find a way to thrive and enjoy doing it. "Write to me" and "I'll tell you all about my new tailor shop when I get set up in the place when I get there!"

Balance, acceptance, devotion, family, and hope. That's the song the fiddler-guy is playing on the roof.

Playing hard-ball and luvin' it

2009-02-14T17:17:00.000-06:00

Well, after a near meltdown I called mean ol' sister for some advice. I got it alright, in her style that could be taken as cold hearted bossing and maybe is a little but that's why I called her.

A good knock up-side the head is just what I needed.

I decided to sleep in MY OWN bed last night. Not on a cold air mattress in a living room filled with volume 18 sounds of murder and screaming.

It was a bit of a rough start, 'get me this first' and 'are you still here?' I finally got her settled, closed my blessed bedroom door and had my hand on the light switch when I heard a frantic voice banging on my door. "Where are you, are you here??"

Rolling my eyes as only a pre-teen acting adult can do, I re-entered the livingroom to see her on her bed/couch looking (here we go again, she's blind) around for me. "Yes, Mom, what is it?" I asked in my kindest voice. Ok, maybe it wasn't the Kindest, but it was good enough to fool her into believing I didn't have blood shooting out of my eyes....

"I heard a growl", A Growl, I thought, what, does she have a boogyman under the couch?? WTF anyway? This was starting to look like a long night and I had only gotten close to the bed, not even in it yet...

Thinking quickly, I grabbed the cat and explained the noise was probably him. Honestly, that cat has never growled that I know of. WTF anyway?

I closed the door firmly, she had to hear it, I thought, she'll know I'm in here and the door is CLOSED. I slept the most wonderful sleep, never heard a thing all night. All is well, right? Wrong.

She asked for a sudafed this morning because for some reason, she said, her eyes were watering and swollen. I looked closely at her, durned if she wasn't teary eyed. Well, well, well, I've only ever seen her actually cry once in my long life, and then the tears came with things flying across the room. This was maybe 38 years ago. Huh!

As if I hadn't tortured her enough by abandoning her in that big, lonely livingroom for, what, about 8 hours, I added insult to injury by taking off for 5, yep, count em, FIVE hours today.

I walked out the door as she sniffled and blew her nose. I felt not an ounce of bad for her, I was angry. Really, REALLY angry with her. 35 years ago she walked out on me, not walked, sneaked out when I wasn't looking. For 35 years she's practiced throwing us all out, bringing some back only to throw them out again.

For 15 years she has been suffering life-changing illnesses and wouldn't let us kids reach out to her. The only reason she is here is because she knew she would die alone in that apartment and someone would find her rotted carcas 2 weeks later. She doesn't want to die alone.

So 35 years ago when I really REALLY needed her, she was a gonner, and now when I need a few hours to take care of me, she has a death grip on me. Oooh, maybe that's a bad analogy.

When I got home, 5 hours after I left, the tears were dry and she said she was glad I didn't elope 'or something' and that I came home.

I'm not sure I want to elope but 'or something' might have been interesting....

Friday the 13th?

2009-02-13T10:55:00.000-06:00

Yep, it's Friday the 13th. My [almost] black cat is in rare form, already this morning he's gotten on the table, knocked some nick nacks down and tried to get in the trash. The durn fool tried to kill me too. No, really, he tried to kill me! He, he,,, dum da dum da.... he CROSSED MY PATH!!! That was at the early hour of 3:30 this morning.

Yes, 3:30 AM. That's the part of the day when it's still dark out and I'm supposed to be entering that wonderful, deep REM sleep where I dream about having a fat checking account and a place to go when it gets light out and I wake up.

It had been a pretty good week for sleep at the correct times, the worst thing I heard upon awakening all week is "OH, you're up! What time is it? 7:30 in the morning? Huh, I thought you always got up around 5am!"

I've gotten pretty good at acting like a pre-teen and mumbling under my breath and not being heard. 'Yeah, I WOULD get up early if I didn't have to cook a meal and make coffee at stinking midnight'! At midnight I mumble something akin to 'The kitchen is closed, what do you think this is, a freakin' restaurant'????

So at 3:30 I roll over to re-adjust to a good REM position, turn back on the heating pad when I hear "Are you awake?" (I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life based on those three words). "Mmmm," I say, "Not really". The answer I get is NOT what I wanted to hear.... "I'm thinking about a hot cup of coffee". 'Yeah, think about it for about 3 more hours' is my pre-teen mumble.

"Is there any hot coffee"? "I have to make some" is my answer. "Oh, naughty me! You're so nice!" are the words that float across the dark room. I turned the light on, fumbled for my glasses and glance her way to see her sitting up and holding the cup out like a beggar in the street.

I handled it well.

I laughed at her and told her she was funny.

She handled it well.

She said "At least you're not mad at me".

If only she knew! Today is Friday the 13th. I'm an evil witch in my secret life!!!

Are we there yet?

2009-02-12T12:03:00.000-06:00

Are we there yet, I want it now, is it ready yet? Why?

As the parent of a parent, a parent of my own children and a few steps, I've come to realize I'm also my own parent.

I endure self-directed scoldings, praises and lessons about life that include things like 'dummy, you won't do THAT again, will you'?

Where a self-directed scolding used to be just that, I see where my parent-self has become kinder and more nurturing to my child-self. Maybe I'm now my own Grandma. After all, don't Grandma's let the grandkids get away with WAY more than they let thier OWN kids get away with?

Core Values, the things we grew up believing about ourselves, family, and the world in general are, for me, a big bowl full of little scraps of paper upon which each 'value' is written. It took me a long time to realize that I could shuffle through those scraps of paper, longer to realize I could throw out the ones that didn't work or make sense and even longer to get brave enough to do just that.

First I had to find replacement values, so I had to get to work figuring out who I was and who I wanted to be. Hmmmmmm.

So I'm working on it, find more patience, learn to appreciate myself, find and utilize my attributes, all that.

Then I got side tracked. I realized that there are a whole handful of people that probably don't even realize they have a pile of little tiny papers with significant live-directing words written on them. I realized that change and growth, to me, is not only an option but a necessity but to some change and growth is...... "So, what's your point"?

To borrow from FS, "WTF"???

So I took a look at my most recent responsibility, wondering why she frustrates me to the Nth degree, and I realize that, to her, growth, change and learning new things are not an option. Her question is "are we there yet" like the child in the back seat and my question is "are we there yet" as in, have I got life figured out yet?

Answer, I hope not, I hope to grow, change and learn for many years.

WAIT!!!!

2009-02-08T09:17:00.000-06:00

"Are you awake?" I ignored the call, it was 3:30 in the morning and she can get her own self to the bathroom and, as far as I was concerned, the kitchen was closed. I heard no more as I drifted back to the most peaceful and wonderful sleep I had the pleasure of enjoying in many-a-night.

"Are you awake?" The second time I heard that question I mumbled something akin to 'mmmmm' and rolled over. "I want to go outside" was the next statement coming from across the room. The tone was a cross between petulant and demanding. "Ok, I'm getting up". I heard the cane bump the table, Oh NO! She's getting up and I'm not ready!

Wait! Let me get my glasses! No, WAIT, the door is this way! Coffee? No, I'm just getting up! Slow down, don't run! WAIT, let me get the door open! OH, the rocking chair is this way! Coffee? I'm going to fix it now, remember, I JUST GOT UP!!

Hey, give me those matches, no matches in the house! Where did you get those matches, what happened to your lighter?

Turns out she fumbled about the house while I slept. How does a crippled old blind lady find her way around the house and I don't hear her? Oh, yeah, I was engaging in the most wonderful and peaceful sleep I had experienced in many-a-night.

Coffee? Yes, yes, as soon as I get you IN the rocking chair and not off the end of the porch, the first step would be a biggie! Yes, the chair is this way. Ok, I'll get you some coffee. Here's a new lighter, give me the matches. She answered "yes, Mommy". Good grief!

Once I got the matches out of her grubby little hands and coffee into them, the time on the porch was wonderful. Seems the song birds took the night express into town and they were all announcing their arrival with vigor only heard in spring. The Crows, mourning doves, bluebirds, chicka-dee's and finches all sang 'good morning' to us and thus started the day.

Clocks and TV's

2009-02-05T09:27:00.000-06:00

As I sit here pondering my already-too-long-day, I glance at the evil clock and it tells me it's only 9:30 in the morning. I'm thinking of becoming a serial killer that targets clocks. I've already decided that I'm crazy enough to have a TV burning party when this segment of my life comes to an end and I can move on to other things.

As a child I dreamed of growing up and doing the traditional thing, be a teacher, be a nurse, I grew up to be a truck driver instead. Well, I WAS a truck driver, now my childhood dream seems to have caught up with me. I didn't know I was running from it but I guess I was, how can something 'catch' one after 40 years if that one wasn't running?

Yes, I'm a nurse, but it didn't stop there, I'm also a psychologist, social worker, house keeper, cook, and, most recently, a serial killer to clocks and TV's.

Psycho, maybe that's what I am. I just took the cat to the vet to get his.... ahem..... well let's just say he won't be much of a 'he' after he gets home.

Hey, I need SOMEPLACE for my aggressive feelings to go!

2009-01-26T14:55:00.000-06:00

The heating pad underneath my back was lulling me into the MOST delicious sleep, I was just passing from 'doze' to 'snooze'. Somewhere far, far away there was a HUGE 'boom'. I went slowly from 'snooze' to 'doze' and then the realization that the boom was REAL ripped me up off the mattress. I looked around the room in a daze, wondering ifI really heard what I thought I heard. I looked at my Mother, blind, old and dying but not old and dying enough to notice her surroundings in a way that indicates she can really see..... spooky..... but I digress, She was also sitting up looking (looking?) around, and the cat was making haste to hide. So the sound was real. End of story. Really, end of story! I never figured out what exploded or who was on my front porch shooting! The cat crept out of hiding, our hearts went back to normal and sleep stole in again.

This is my life right now, baby-sit an old parent dying of cancer, try to catch a snatch of sleep, and listen to weird sounds I can't identify... Cook food that doesn't get eaten, or sometimes puked back up. No, I'm not a bad cook! My life 6 months ago was trucking across country with a load of goods that are often left on the shelf now as nobody can afford to buy things. I sat in a seat for hours on end, in that truck, I sit for hours on end on a seat in my livingroom now. Maybe I should add a steering wheel to the recliner....

Oh, it gets exciting now and then, we almost ran over the cat with the wheel chair, Mom's pants fell down to her ankles when she stood up, and we have lost a pair of underwear in a tiny bathroom. Gotta take a laugh when it comes!