Little by slowly...

Since my brisket is in the oven snoozing at 325 degrees & the puppies are asleep, I decided to take a load off and blog for a second. To date, mom's move is scheduled, all of her paperwork that the Plaza needs is in (that we're in charge of) , and my sister and I just met for a debriefing this afternoon, after her meeting with the Plaza people and mine from a shop-a-thon for mom. We both were sitting in here in our little snugly home office laughing our heads off how one person (mom) can have sooo many people all working for her, while she does absolutely zilch. Folks, that's either world class manipulation or a family that doesn't seem to know how to say NO. Actually, both. We've both decided mom's reign of terror has just ended and we both laughed sooo hard we cried. Thank God she's (my sister--not mom) on Spring Break or we wouldn't be able to get half of this stuff done.

I must say, though, that spending someone else's money on stuff is really fun and I am good at it. I've gotten her a smaller bed for her new place, new appropriately sized sheets, mattress pad, and a shower curtain and liner. And did I mention a beautiful new matlesse Peacock Alley coverlet for her that she'll love? I found it for a song at Tuesday Morning so that's a double score. Delivery of the bed is set up, too, so I may just go eat some bon bons. We'll cut down her dust ruffle when the bed comes so we can be sure about the length. Details, details.
Ohhhh, man....I can just hear mom now....she is soooo gonna hate that there's a shower curtain and no shower door. Once she moves in, I'm thinking I'm not going to answer my phone for at least 6 weeks until she gets used to things over there. Until then, it can just rolllllll... tooooo.... voiceeeeee... mailllll..., thank you very much. Being mad about a shower curtain is not an emergency---- I don't care who it is or how mad they are. And with dementia, she'll have forgotten about it in a few minutes anyway, until the next shower. I think I'll tell her to just pretend like she's back at Camp Waldemar (childhood) and get over it.
OK...time to go slice my brisket and get dinner ready. Fred ought to be home shortly and one sniff and he'll be ready to eat. Well, yeah....it is brisket. And Crashman just arrived. There must be a brake for brisket sign in the yard.