I just ran by to check in on mom. Since she wasn't in her room I figured she was upstairs at lunch. Damn, I'm smart. As I rounded the corner by the dining room, I could hear her voice so I slowed down to figure out where she was. OMG....she was holding court at a table for four, yakking up a storm. This from the same woman who did not want to go upstairs to the dining room to eat with all those old people.
Holy cow.....I felt like the mother of a first grader who was having lunch at school, the first week of school. She introduced me to her lunch mates and remembered their names. Yeah, buddy... One was a retired dermatologist well known in town, another was man whose last name was Berry, and the other lady was her next door neighbor, whom I already knew. I had wanted to let her know that her phone was now working and she told me that she already knew--it had rung this morning but she was in the bathroom or something. Well, allrighty then.
I was so thrilled I called both of my sibs, on my way out, to tell them we are home free. The eagle has landed.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Accents...I feel like the UN
Remember in the United States when everyone spoke English and for the most part, it sounded like English. Now, don't get all "the US is a melting pot on me....." I get that and I love it. I'm as Ellis Island as the next person but here's the problem. As I am advancing in age, my ears and brain are having increasing difficulty decodeing what's being said, with all the different accents I come into contact with regularly.
Example: the Vietnamese ladies at the nail place. When I was there Saturday, one of them asked me something and I had absolutely no clue what she had just said, so I looked at the second one. She repeated it, and it sounded exactly the same to be.......zhing whong hoy yong. Whaaaaat???
I could tell both of them thought I'd had some recent brain injury since I was staring at them with my face all blank and they were visibly uncomfortable that I didn't understand. Well, yeah....there is that. Finally, I repeated what they'd said, out loud, twice, and then screamed out laughing. I got it. I then said it to them, answered their question, and we all laughed over and over. Yep....they think I'm crazy. Oh, well.
Then there's the nurse from Kenya (Hellen--2 L's), at the Plaza, who speaks with an African British accent. Talk about tweaking your ears....if I can get her slow down, I can do it, but if she goes all full tilt on me, I'm toast. I'm used to the Indian ladies accent from working with so many of them, but throw in a Filipino and I am right back to the "whaaaaat???" look.
And last but never least, my most favorite, the Hispanic accent. OK...that one almost makes me look intelligent. Every now and then I get stumped but not all that often, and what little Spanish I speak is always indulged, even if my tenses are all out of whack. And unless we get going on the African American hip hop language of da 'hood, I'm good there, too. Most of the time.
I know it's not just me because my sister has given me the " Huh...what'd they say???" look on more than one occasion, and it does absolutely no good to ask Fred, if he's there. Color him clueless as well. So, I guess this is just something more I'm gonna have to work on..... Oh, great......another thing to add to my ever growing list.
Example: the Vietnamese ladies at the nail place. When I was there Saturday, one of them asked me something and I had absolutely no clue what she had just said, so I looked at the second one. She repeated it, and it sounded exactly the same to be.......zhing whong hoy yong. Whaaaaat???
I could tell both of them thought I'd had some recent brain injury since I was staring at them with my face all blank and they were visibly uncomfortable that I didn't understand. Well, yeah....there is that. Finally, I repeated what they'd said, out loud, twice, and then screamed out laughing. I got it. I then said it to them, answered their question, and we all laughed over and over. Yep....they think I'm crazy. Oh, well.
Then there's the nurse from Kenya (Hellen--2 L's), at the Plaza, who speaks with an African British accent. Talk about tweaking your ears....if I can get her slow down, I can do it, but if she goes all full tilt on me, I'm toast. I'm used to the Indian ladies accent from working with so many of them, but throw in a Filipino and I am right back to the "whaaaaat???" look.
And last but never least, my most favorite, the Hispanic accent. OK...that one almost makes me look intelligent. Every now and then I get stumped but not all that often, and what little Spanish I speak is always indulged, even if my tenses are all out of whack. And unless we get going on the African American hip hop language of da 'hood, I'm good there, too. Most of the time.
I know it's not just me because my sister has given me the " Huh...what'd they say???" look on more than one occasion, and it does absolutely no good to ask Fred, if he's there. Color him clueless as well. So, I guess this is just something more I'm gonna have to work on..... Oh, great......another thing to add to my ever growing list.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Random thoughts
OK...I give. I think Sis is about to out stubborn me. She loves to sit in our den chairs like a person only a person doesn't leave black dog hair behind as a calling card or when it's raining, muddy paw prints. Or nose drips on the arms when the pollen count is high. Yes, the chairs are slip covered so I can wash them but between her and the West sun, my chairs are taking a beating. Hence, I am trying to teach her not to jump up in them. I might as well try to teach her not to eat Wiggles food. I am losing ground here folks, and fast. It would be lots easier if this was something Sis was interested in learning--or unlearning, as the case may be. Every time I catch her, it's like she's never been told this information before and wants to know what flew up my pants. Attitude from a dog?? Not while there's breath in this body. We are fixing to go to the mat on this one, if I can summon the energy. If I can't, she can just have the damn chairs.
I am slowly reclaiming my life after focusing so much lately on mom. I may just get that garden planted yet and my pots. After going briefly on Sunday over to one of Bruce's cousin's house for his Aunt Da'V's 90th birthday celebration, I am ashamed at how groady my yard and empty pots look. Carol's were absolutely beautiful and I wanted to load up all of her stuff and take it to my house. No muss, no fuss. Instant pretty.
My Lady Banks yellow climbing roses are all over everywhere and the thickest and fluffiest they've ever bloomed, and my bridal wreath spirea is white, wispy and lovely. My trumpet vines on the fence and the wall are blooming dark orange flowers, though that last snowfall just about put the hex on any blooms at all. If I can find Fred's camera I'll try to take a picture of the roses to post later, since they're the best. (I sooooo hate being grounded from downloading off the Internet. My computer is still in ICU after Hannah Montana's downloaded picture almost killed it. Thanks, Miley. ) It's so quick and easy to just pick a picture and post it, plus, they do have pictures you sure won't find anywhere else. And they come with a special present--porn. And a worm. A real two-fer.
My biggest hickey (sorry, Charlotte) right now is that green stuff that oak trees drop before their leaves open. We have three ginormous oaks so you can imagine how much of that crud is all over everywhere. It makes these giant wads of..... this... weird... stuff...and it ends up everywhere. One night years ago, we were on our way out to dinner and as we all came out the back door, there stood Benji with a full wig on his head that he had fashioned out of the tree stuff. It was like the worst man-wig you've ever seen. And hilarious. Every year I look at that stuff and remember Benji's hair creation.
That junk even comes inside on puppies backs--ones that have rolled around on the driveway while toasting in the sun. ( Sister) Wig is much more gentlemanly and never rolls around-- he just sits-- hence not much crud on him. He is quality; Sister is definitely quantity. Anyway, my questions is, whadaya do with all that stuff?? Besides throw it away....do you compost it?? Add that to the ever growing list of stuff I just don't know.
I am slowly reclaiming my life after focusing so much lately on mom. I may just get that garden planted yet and my pots. After going briefly on Sunday over to one of Bruce's cousin's house for his Aunt Da'V's 90th birthday celebration, I am ashamed at how groady my yard and empty pots look. Carol's were absolutely beautiful and I wanted to load up all of her stuff and take it to my house. No muss, no fuss. Instant pretty.
My Lady Banks yellow climbing roses are all over everywhere and the thickest and fluffiest they've ever bloomed, and my bridal wreath spirea is white, wispy and lovely. My trumpet vines on the fence and the wall are blooming dark orange flowers, though that last snowfall just about put the hex on any blooms at all. If I can find Fred's camera I'll try to take a picture of the roses to post later, since they're the best. (I sooooo hate being grounded from downloading off the Internet. My computer is still in ICU after Hannah Montana's downloaded picture almost killed it. Thanks, Miley. ) It's so quick and easy to just pick a picture and post it, plus, they do have pictures you sure won't find anywhere else. And they come with a special present--porn. And a worm. A real two-fer.
My biggest hickey (sorry, Charlotte) right now is that green stuff that oak trees drop before their leaves open. We have three ginormous oaks so you can imagine how much of that crud is all over everywhere. It makes these giant wads of..... this... weird... stuff...and it ends up everywhere. One night years ago, we were on our way out to dinner and as we all came out the back door, there stood Benji with a full wig on his head that he had fashioned out of the tree stuff. It was like the worst man-wig you've ever seen. And hilarious. Every year I look at that stuff and remember Benji's hair creation.
That junk even comes inside on puppies backs--ones that have rolled around on the driveway while toasting in the sun. ( Sister) Wig is much more gentlemanly and never rolls around-- he just sits-- hence not much crud on him. He is quality; Sister is definitely quantity. Anyway, my questions is, whadaya do with all that stuff?? Besides throw it away....do you compost it?? Add that to the ever growing list of stuff I just don't know.
Monday, April 5, 2010
I'm whipped....
It's happened. Again. I've got it and I've got it bad. Blogstipation. Can't think of a single thing worth yakking about. How could that be? I am female so that means I have at least 250, 000 words I need to get out of my head today, before I go to sleep tonight. Egads....the pressure....guys have it so easy. What do they have to do each day...maybe 10 words? Eleven on a really big day???
I do have one Easter funny to relate and, yes, it involves the "smalls"--Hudson, Hadley, and baby Avery. It seems that Friday the movers were there to pack up their house, and they were then getting on the road for Arkansas, to be with Nicole's (the other) side of their family for Easter. It was total chaos as usual, but they got it done and hit the road. About an hour from Little Rock, I got an email from Nic saying they were almost there and they had renamed their car. OK...I'll bite....she went on to say that their Suburban would forever more be known as the doo-doo mobile, since Avery had diarrhea, and had pooped 7 times in almost 5 hours. Hudson and Hadley thought it was hilarious---and kept putting the windows up and down--doing 75 mph on the highway. Geeze.....that would have given me diarrhea, too. I had a quick PTSD flash back to car trips with our boys: the tinkle jar, the endless hands of Go Fish, the green grapes, the cooler with drinks, the fights, Fred swerving all over the highway as he lets his ADD run wild, and finally, the car VHS/DVD player. Ahhhhh....the good old days.
I do have one Easter funny to relate and, yes, it involves the "smalls"--Hudson, Hadley, and baby Avery. It seems that Friday the movers were there to pack up their house, and they were then getting on the road for Arkansas, to be with Nicole's (the other) side of their family for Easter. It was total chaos as usual, but they got it done and hit the road. About an hour from Little Rock, I got an email from Nic saying they were almost there and they had renamed their car. OK...I'll bite....she went on to say that their Suburban would forever more be known as the doo-doo mobile, since Avery had diarrhea, and had pooped 7 times in almost 5 hours. Hudson and Hadley thought it was hilarious---and kept putting the windows up and down--doing 75 mph on the highway. Geeze.....that would have given me diarrhea, too. I had a quick PTSD flash back to car trips with our boys: the tinkle jar, the endless hands of Go Fish, the green grapes, the cooler with drinks, the fights, Fred swerving all over the highway as he lets his ADD run wild, and finally, the car VHS/DVD player. Ahhhhh....the good old days.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Good Friday
For anybody that has ever doubted that there really is a God, take my word for it--there definitely is. And if you need a chunk of faith to hang on to until yours gets bigger, I'll loan you some--for as long as you need it. Yesterday during the move, the rain held off until we were loaded and then just stopped. We were able to get friends to take mom out to lunch and to a movie to "entertain her" while we got everything all moved , arranged, set up, and all zshuzzzzed before mom came over. We lit her candle so it smelled good--I rearranged some lilies she already had and gave them fresh water, we filled her tiny fridge with her stuff from the other place. Her clothes were all put away in her closet, bed all made, with her favorite pillows, bathroom gear all put away , towels ready for the first shower. Given that she had never even seen the space--her choice--the big reveal was a tad nerve racking when we were ready, and she wasn't there. Faith here....they finally called and were at the other side of Edgemere. It was 4:30pm and show time! I met them out front and mom was clearly afraid. Who wouldn't be?
She came in, she was pleased, her friends both wanted to hire us to move them in, and we almost collapsed. We had not only pleased but made one of her more negative friends very jealous, which later reduced my sister and I into screams of laughter, as we took turns acting it all out. But that's a whole other story.
We were able to even hang most of her art except for the ones that went on two walls that are concrete, thank you very much. Maintenance will come today with a special drill to do it while she's at the hairdresser. And last night, when one TV remote would just not change the channels and I knew it was something easy--something I just couldn't quite figure out-- I finally just surrendered and sat back and waited. I had monkeyed--fiddled--punched--re punched, all with no luck. I even asked a male at the front desk for some much needed testosterone fueled ideas. No good. Tick, tick, tick. It's now 7pm and I'm starting to wig out. I punched the TV power on one more time. I noticed a flashing light on the remote by the TV/VCR . Awwww....hell...I just switched it to the plain old TV part. What's it gonna do, blow up? Welllll...let's hope not.
Bingo! We were immediately channel surfing. Miracle?? You decide but Fred swears it had to be, given my lack of tech ability. It was finally time for this old broad to head home, shower, say my prayers and thank God for taking such great care of mom and all of us movers. And then fall into bed.
Before I left I had some time to spend with mom just talking.....she shared with me that I had no idea how this loss of control feels to her. I told her she was 100% correct...I truly do not know how she feels about that but I sure could relate to the lack of control I felt with Brian's crash and how unspeakably scary that was for me. And disorienting. By then, I could tell she just need to chill and watch her shows. I put a fresh nightie on her bed, and did "turn down service" minus the chocolate mint on the pillow. (She had some mini Snickers but my brain was just fried and I wasn't going there. Puuuuulease.)
Believing. Faith. And prayers. It really was a Good Friday and I am blessed and grateful.
Happy Easter to all.
She came in, she was pleased, her friends both wanted to hire us to move them in, and we almost collapsed. We had not only pleased but made one of her more negative friends very jealous, which later reduced my sister and I into screams of laughter, as we took turns acting it all out. But that's a whole other story.
We were able to even hang most of her art except for the ones that went on two walls that are concrete, thank you very much. Maintenance will come today with a special drill to do it while she's at the hairdresser. And last night, when one TV remote would just not change the channels and I knew it was something easy--something I just couldn't quite figure out-- I finally just surrendered and sat back and waited. I had monkeyed--fiddled--punched--re punched, all with no luck. I even asked a male at the front desk for some much needed testosterone fueled ideas. No good. Tick, tick, tick. It's now 7pm and I'm starting to wig out. I punched the TV power on one more time. I noticed a flashing light on the remote by the TV/VCR . Awwww....hell...I just switched it to the plain old TV part. What's it gonna do, blow up? Welllll...let's hope not.
Bingo! We were immediately channel surfing. Miracle?? You decide but Fred swears it had to be, given my lack of tech ability. It was finally time for this old broad to head home, shower, say my prayers and thank God for taking such great care of mom and all of us movers. And then fall into bed.
Before I left I had some time to spend with mom just talking.....she shared with me that I had no idea how this loss of control feels to her. I told her she was 100% correct...I truly do not know how she feels about that but I sure could relate to the lack of control I felt with Brian's crash and how unspeakably scary that was for me. And disorienting. By then, I could tell she just need to chill and watch her shows. I put a fresh nightie on her bed, and did "turn down service" minus the chocolate mint on the pillow. (She had some mini Snickers but my brain was just fried and I wasn't going there. Puuuuulease.)
Believing. Faith. And prayers. It really was a Good Friday and I am blessed and grateful.
Happy Easter to all.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Inappropriate people
Don't you just love 'em? It's sooo fun to see what they are going to say next. I had a call this morning from a guy my mom used to date and would have married had we not stepped in and dropped the hammer on him, but that's another story. Anywho....this guy is just not improving at all with age, but I guess wine and women are the only things that do that. He and I are not friends and he blames me for having *boundaries around his unacceptable behavior. (* see earlier post.) Oh, baby...bring on the houla hoops. I just do not put up with his "fertilizer" and will call him on it in a heartbeat. Why he would call me is the six million dollar question.
For him to have called me twice in less than twenty four hours tells me 1) he clearly doesn't have enough to do 2) he thinks he's owed or deserves a lot of information about mom that he's not 3) he thinks I'm gonna answer the phone after this and I'm not. The reason for his call this morning was two fold: he wanted to "tell me something" he thought I was too dumb to already know (I knew), and to tell me that a pair of my other's Elizabeth Gage earrings that she didn't really like (according to him), she had planned to give to my brother, to make cuff links. Buckle up because here comes the best part. He told me "your brother never wears cuff links but I do--everyday--so I want you to get those for ME...I want them ----so just get them for me." Excuse me... you creepy old man?? You want me to take jewelry from my mother, and give it to you? In...... your...... dreams. What med's are you on because you are hallucinating. Can you say inappropriate 'cause I sure can.
I loaded up my guns and told him "those earrings are my mother's--not mine--and I will do nothing of the sort. Her things are her things and if she wants you to ever have those, that will be her decision. And FYI: don't wait by the phone because HELL WILL FREEZE FIRST." What a nimrod. As our old maid used to say "I think I got him told.......uh, huh." Guess I don't need to block him on caller ID....he won't be calling back! Ahhhhh, what a great day!
For him to have called me twice in less than twenty four hours tells me 1) he clearly doesn't have enough to do 2) he thinks he's owed or deserves a lot of information about mom that he's not 3) he thinks I'm gonna answer the phone after this and I'm not. The reason for his call this morning was two fold: he wanted to "tell me something" he thought I was too dumb to already know (I knew), and to tell me that a pair of my other's Elizabeth Gage earrings that she didn't really like (according to him), she had planned to give to my brother, to make cuff links. Buckle up because here comes the best part. He told me "your brother never wears cuff links but I do--everyday--so I want you to get those for ME...I want them ----so just get them for me." Excuse me... you creepy old man?? You want me to take jewelry from my mother, and give it to you? In...... your...... dreams. What med's are you on because you are hallucinating. Can you say inappropriate 'cause I sure can.
I loaded up my guns and told him "those earrings are my mother's--not mine--and I will do nothing of the sort. Her things are her things and if she wants you to ever have those, that will be her decision. And FYI: don't wait by the phone because HELL WILL FREEZE FIRST." What a nimrod. As our old maid used to say "I think I got him told.......uh, huh." Guess I don't need to block him on caller ID....he won't be calling back! Ahhhhh, what a great day!
Undercover agent-- Muff
I just thought my animals were weird. Oh, nooooo....they definitely are. Especially Muffin our asthmatic, fifteen year old Egyptian Mau, with the charcoal colored polka dots--all the way down to his skin. When we first got him and for years afterwards, he was real spooky. If someone he didn't know came over, he was gone in a flash, under the bed. And he'd never let us hold him unless it was his idea. Everything was always on his terms--his way, Jose'. For the life of me, I do not know what happened, but he is a changed man. No matter where I am, he's there, too--even in in the bathroom. If I sit down, he's in my lap whether I like it or not. And it's the same for the boys and Fred. He's just all over us like fly paper. Which brings me to last night.
I've considered telling you this for awhile so here it comes: Muffin likes to sleep under the covers with us at night. Yep, I guess those old bones get cold so sliding under where it's all nice and toasty just must feel good. On Fred's side, he usually sleeps on top of the covers--on top of his legs, that is. (Fred's gonna kill me for telling that but it's the truth.) Anyway, all was well and he was "in his spot" last night when Fred came walking in from choir practice around 9:30pm. Muff always comes out from under the covers to see what's shakin' only last night was different. It seems Muff took a wrong turn in the dark (underneath the covers) and was trying to get out and ended up, inside my nightgown!!!!! Yep...we were skin (mine) to fur (his), and he was becoming more and more frantic to find the escape hatch. Let me assure you that made two of us. As Fred is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, I am birthing a cat out of the arm hole of my sleeveless gown, laughing like a maniac. Exiting via the arm hole was not my idea but it was just easier to go with it. With skin shredding back claws at the ready, I wasn't going to argue how he got out--just that he got out. The look on Fred's face was priceless.....he never knows what he's walking into around here.
I've considered telling you this for awhile so here it comes: Muffin likes to sleep under the covers with us at night. Yep, I guess those old bones get cold so sliding under where it's all nice and toasty just must feel good. On Fred's side, he usually sleeps on top of the covers--on top of his legs, that is. (Fred's gonna kill me for telling that but it's the truth.) Anyway, all was well and he was "in his spot" last night when Fred came walking in from choir practice around 9:30pm. Muff always comes out from under the covers to see what's shakin' only last night was different. It seems Muff took a wrong turn in the dark (underneath the covers) and was trying to get out and ended up, inside my nightgown!!!!! Yep...we were skin (mine) to fur (his), and he was becoming more and more frantic to find the escape hatch. Let me assure you that made two of us. As Fred is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, I am birthing a cat out of the arm hole of my sleeveless gown, laughing like a maniac. Exiting via the arm hole was not my idea but it was just easier to go with it. With skin shredding back claws at the ready, I wasn't going to argue how he got out--just that he got out. The look on Fred's face was priceless.....he never knows what he's walking into around here.
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