Oh, no...not again....

The thought of re-opening that 9/11 wound tomorrow for the ten year anniversary is just a non starter for me.  I'm not watching any of it again, and it's not like I haven't seen it a gabillion times in the past.  I don't EVER want to forget what happened that awful day and I also don't believe re-traumatizing myself again will help anything or anybody.  That day is forever burned into my memory just like the day President Kennedy was assassinated, and that's where it needs to stay--in my memory.  Watching it again serves absolutely no purpose for me other than to scare me out of my wits and make me feel about as big as a bug.  Count me out.  Instead, I will send up prayers for this Nation as a whole.  That seems like a much better use of my time and energy.

And on an equally sad note, I found out last weekend that my brother and his wife are divorcing after 31 years of marriage, and two daughters.  I won't go in to details-- just suffice it to say, when you think you've seen and heard just about everything, think again.  The good news?  There is a God and it's NOT me, so I best leave it all to Him to work out, while I concentrate on keeping my side of the street clean, and get ready for ITALY and a WEDDING!!!!!!!

Lastly, it reminds me daily of how grateful I am for the man I married, 32 years ago.  I love you, Bruce....I mean Fred.

Wedges.  We've gotta talk about them and I don't mean the underwear kind.  I remember vividly wearing them back in high school, believe it or not, but they weren't the super high kind like is popular now.  They were probably 3" max.  What is up with the ones today??  They make girls walk funny and look like they have club feet.  Now, admittedly some of them are very cute but some others are just wrong.  The fashion statement some of them make is "Hi...I have a chair up my butt and can't walk normally".  And what about the heel heights of some of these otherwise really cool shoes?  They do may make a gals legs look great but what they do to your feet and your Achilles is another story.  Can you say bunions, neuromas, hammer toes, calluses, deformed feet, all in the name of style??  Have you seen some of the feet of our mom's age ladies??  Or even some of the gals my age??  They will scare you silly.... a real foot surgeon's paradise.

Having had my share of foot issues in later life, I'm hard to fit.  Plantar Fascitatis?  Check.  A neuroma?  Check.  Old Stress fracture?  Check.  I also have a very narrow heel, and it's the only skinny thing God gave me.  My feet pronate somewhat, just like my dad's did, and mom made me wear saddle oxfords for years, thinking that was going to make a difference.  It didn't, and now because my feet pronate inward just enough, almost any shoe I wear rubs blisters on my heels.  Ain't it grand?? 
Maybe I'm just a grumpy old lady but I want shoes that are beautiful AND more comfortable than the box they come in, that aren't ten feet tall.  And can we make them in narrows (heel only) again, like in the old days?  Otherwise, I'm gonna be rockin' some seriously ugly, but comfortable, shoes.  That's just how I roll.

It's five o'clock somewhere

I got the official word about an hour ago that mom has been cleared for a glass wine (4 oz.) any afternoon or evening she wants to have some.  I then made a quick Tom Thumb run for wine and small plastic cups.  I made the executive decision on a nice wine but it had to have a screw top, since the thought of them having to mess with a wine opener wasn't going to make this as easy.  I figure if it's not pretty easy, they're not as likely to bother with it.  At four ounces a whack, mom's got plenty of wine to last her for awhile.  If it doesn't last a good while, somebody's swiggin' out of it. 

I handed off mom's stash to the Nurse Manager, she labeled everything, and put a bottle in to chill, as I headed off down to mom's room to tell her her "booze cruise" had begun.  You could tell mom was excited and that's all I care about.  Plus, tonight is Movie Night and she gets to go over to the assisted living side and hang with her pals.  Wine and a movie??  And I think the popcorn guy is there tonight, too, so today is going to totally rock where she's concerned. 

Someone else is sporting all new hardware on her arm and this time she was thinking pink.  I think they switched it out due to swelling, and now she also can see her fingers!  Her purple one covered them up.  Ewwww.

A Cocktail on the Alz. Unit

After a weekend of bird hunting and mouse poop, I'm glad to be home.  Nothing beats coming home to a clean house and your own bed.  OK...maybe your own personal chef would be nice but I can live without one, which is a really good thing considering I'll most likely never have one.  I remember a maid my mom hired way back when and I don't know who she worked for prior to us, but why they ever let her go is beyond me.  I can't remember her name, but I can sure remember her lighter than air pancakes (she folded in whipped egg whites and I know because I went in and watched her) and her homemade rolls were like little clouds.  Lord love a duck....they melted in your mouth and even with Fleishman's margarine (mom's brand), they were the closest thing to heaven I'd ever tasted.  With real butter, I might have died.  I wish she'd worked for us longer so I could have learned how to cook from her. 

I ran by to see mom this afternoon and she was watching re-runs of my favorite show Flipping Out.  I sat on her bed and we laughed our heads off before she said out of no where "I sure would love a glass of wine tonight...I haven't had one in ages".  I said "Would you really?" and she nodded.  I hopped off the bed and went down the hall to the Nurses station to see what sort of rigamorole I'd need to go through for her to have a glass of wine in the evenings, if she wants.  Turns out, not too much.  They will have her doctor sign off that it's not contraindicated with her current meds, and then all she needs is some chilled Pinot Grigio and a plastic glass, and she'll be a sipping gal.  Pinot is her favorite.   When I spoke with the Nurse Manager, she said she'd keep it in the front refrigerator so she could keep tabs on it and I appreciate that since mom used to keep wine for my great aunt at Monticello West, and had a tough time keeping the staff out of it! 

When I went back to tell mom that I was pretty sure I could make it happen by tomorrow evening, she laughed her head off and then almost cried.  She said "Would you really do that for me?" and I said "Sure...why not??"  I told her she can only have one glass each night, but she said that's all she wants anyway and only on the nights she wants it.  Wellllll...who knew....cocktail hour on the Alzheimer unit in room 153.  Makes me laugh to think about it.

Ohhhhh, Hadley Bear!!!

Wow...what a weekend.  I got a text Saturday night that Hadley-Bear had possibly broken her arm, falling off the swing set.  Later, I got one from her mom saying it was definitely broken.  OK.....that's now a leg and an arm, and she's not even 4.  Poor little gal...... but she's tough as nails, so she'll do fine. 

The Farm was hot and dry as a dust bowl but the yard was still green due to the sprinklers.  The tanks were both down 4-5 feet and the horse trough looked like a science experiment--all green and goopy.  Apparently, field mice like cool air, since they've been back in the house and left "calling cards", if you know what I mean.  Sooo ick.  Sweeping up mouse poop is not on my list of favorite jobs but it did motivate us to head for Home Depot for a list of things, one of which was industrial strength mouse killer.  Mouse poop just brings out a murderous rage in me.  Fred baited all of the closed system traps so we don't kill any one's dogs in the process, so now we just wait.  Sis did find a petrified mouse in the back of a closet and left it for me, in the middle of the master bedroom floor.  Fred picked it up by the tail and it was stiff as a board.  Gag me.

Brian came up Saturday evening in Big Red and dove hunted with Fred Sunday morning.  As usual, the birds seem to fly better in the afternoon and evening than they do in the morning, where we are.  Brian is having to teach himself to shoot using his left eye, since the retinal damage to his right eye, post crash, makes it too hard to see properly to shoot like he's used to shooting.  He still got some birds, so with practice, I'm sure Old Dead Eye will accommodate just fine to shooting with his left eye.  Shoot (a little pun)...he already has.  Here are a few they got Sunday morning.

My plan is to make Ms. Hadley One Arm some cookies and take them by today.  I had hoped to do it yesterday but we ended up staying at the Farm later than planned.  You know how that goes....

Prayers for all those people impacted by the fires in Austin and everywhere else, and thank heaven for the cool air this morning!!!

Bun

I forgot to report earlier this week that one evening, Fred and I had a bunny sighting across the street at the mean old lady's all you can eat salad bar of a front yard.  He didn't hang around long but it was great to know he's survived this heat, in a fur coat no less.

This morning as I came up Durham on my walk, I scanned his front yard for a sighting.  No good.  Nobody home.  As I got closer to the corner of Durham and Centenary, there he was in all his furriness, munching and chillaxin'.  I decided that even though I was somewhat less than fresh to make a new acquaintance, I'd see if maybe he'd let me pet him.  When I've tried this before, he hauled tail but this time I decided to call him by name.  Problem, you ask?  Well, yes.  I don't know his name--- so I did what I always do--I made one up.  He is now officially Bun and I think he must have liked it because he let me get just close enough to touch his furrrrrrrrrr. OOOO, la la.  Soft City.

I also noticed he's a nut grass man, as some was being munched as I touched, and I told him if he's OK crossing the street, we have a yard full of it, but he/she demurred.  He was already two houses down from where he lives, so I think maybe that's his boundary.  Rats.  I'd love to have had him hop on over.

Happy Labor Day to all and remember: nothing's a crisis--  it may feel like one but it's not-- because feelings aren't facts.  It's all in how you look at it, baby. 

Where's my mom?

Mom is completely different these days from the mom I remember from my childhood--or any other time for that matter.  And the saddest part is, I really like this one better.  Mom is, quite frankly, like a different person in a lot of ways.  She watches TV now most of the day and laughs out loud frequently.  It's a joy to hear her giggle and laugh.  I really don't remember her laughing very often in my childhood or my growing up years.  I'm not saying she didn't--I just don't remember it much.  Sometimes she gets so tickled and laughs so hard she starts wheezing--just like me.

There's an easiness about her these days, too.  It doesn't seem like too much upsets her.  As long as she's comfy, clean and dry, and not hungry, there just doesn't seem to be much wrong in her world and let me just say this: I don't know who that person is because that's sure not the mom I remember!  And she is appreciative and says thank you.  Who is this lady?

She actually seems happier and more positive, too.  It's as if when her disease took away a lot of her memory, it also obliterated the part of the brain that judges, criticizes, pot stirs, etc. Once she settled in to the new unit, I can't think of the last time mom has said anything even remotely critical.  Granted she doesn't talk a lot either but never the less, this is just a total about face for someone who I'll openly admit, I struggled to get along with for the majority of my life.

 And she's funny, too.  The stuff she says is hilarious and when people tell me she speaks Spanish to EVERYONE at the Plaza--even the Service dogs that come to visit--it makes me howl.  Even the Plaza staff thinks she's funny.  It makes me more aware every day to cherish and remember this time because it may not be too long before this changes.  I'm going to make as many fun memories with her as I can, while I can.  You just never know when things are going to change, and they will change, somehow.  There's just nothing as consistent as change, and I hope and pray the old mom doesn't reappear.  This mom is just delightful.