Yesterday I had a task to perform--one I was not relishing, so I decided to getter dun earlier, rather than later. I needed to trim mom's toe nails. Now, yes, I could have had them call the Podiatrist to come do it but somehow that seemed like a bit of overkill, for ten little toes. Let's just say while it was not totally horrible, next time I think I may just let them call him. Trying to trim ten, Hormel Lil' Smokies, swollen by poor circulation, is not a job I think I want to repeat. Mom's leg muscles have contracted also, so trying not to hurt her, and trim effectively, is also a major concern, especially when you are her daughter.
It kills me how funny she is, especially in the morning, when she's fresh from a good night's sleep. She may not be making much sense, but it's clear she's still in there. By later afternoon, even after her nap, she's not quite as sparkly, and by evening, she's done. And for that matter, I usually am, too. I do like to go in the evening sometimes just to drop in unexpectedly. That's usually when I've found something odd going on, so if you have parents in a similar situation, mix up your visits. I want the staff to always wonder if I'm going to come walking in that door. Hey, she's my momma and she deserves to have me watching out for her.
Sis and I are home chillin' this afternoon while Fred and Brian make a run to the Farm. Sis wasn't invited due to the heat, and the errands/stops they needed to make, so her consolation prize was a chew bone. For her, that's like winning the Dog Lottery.
With her and bones, she's totally different than Wigman was. Where Wiggles used to carry his bone around, bury it, worry about it, bury it again, dig it back up, and finally chew the damn thing, Sis takes her's straight to her bed, and chews it to death. There are usually two little pieces left over, and she's always real protective of those. When I leaned over just now to love on her, she was guarding the two leftover pieces, and gave me the stink eye. Seriously, Sis...I'll pass on your slobbery bone leftovers. Yeesh.
P. S. The peach pie is history. We snarfed the last of it last night. It was even great cold.