Saturday, July 2, 2005
I scoured the New York Times online edition, this morning...
...trying to find someone, somewhere, who'd commented on Justice Sandra Day O'Connor's reason for leaving the Supreme Court bench and what ripples this will catalyze within the community of people who not only give care to someone but who think about what they're doing and how it is being done in their society. I'm having a lot of reactions, many of which remain, for the time being, pre-lingual.
From what I know of the woman, for instance, I'm not surprised that she would insist on taking care of her husband. She'll probably do it much like I'm doing it: With sturdy determination and fierce protectiveness. She would probably tell you that she is doing this for her husband out of love (and she would be telling the truth). At some point I expect her to also state that this work of caregiving for her declining husband has become her highest calling. But, reticent and tough as she is, she'll speak not much more about it. She may take on a speaking engagement here and there throughout her caregiving career but she won't be heard from much, certainly not from a personal level, until her husband dies. She will approach her choice as the tough, loving, teasingly reticent Arizona cowgirl she is. I imagine that, as she imagines herself doing what she'll be doing (which all caregivers do in order to improve our performance), she'll see an incarnation of herself as a man in cowboy clothes, just as she'd be in cowboy clothes, taking care of a stricken wife exactly the way she'll take care of her stricken husband.
Her attitude, I imagine, has nothing to do with her sense of femininity. I don't think, for her, femininity necessarily means "caregiver". I think "caregiver" is branded into her through her ranching childhood and she recognizes it as a no-nonsense Chore of Love, and a gift to be accepted. If it falls your way to take intense care of someone you love through decline, you would be foolish not to take the opportunity.
I'm thinking of you, Justice Sandra Day O'Connor. You amaze me again, as you have, regularly, as a U.S. Supreme Court Justice. I'm wishing you and your husband the fullest, best experiences this new adventure can make possible. Carry on.
From what I know of the woman, for instance, I'm not surprised that she would insist on taking care of her husband. She'll probably do it much like I'm doing it: With sturdy determination and fierce protectiveness. She would probably tell you that she is doing this for her husband out of love (and she would be telling the truth). At some point I expect her to also state that this work of caregiving for her declining husband has become her highest calling. But, reticent and tough as she is, she'll speak not much more about it. She may take on a speaking engagement here and there throughout her caregiving career but she won't be heard from much, certainly not from a personal level, until her husband dies. She will approach her choice as the tough, loving, teasingly reticent Arizona cowgirl she is. I imagine that, as she imagines herself doing what she'll be doing (which all caregivers do in order to improve our performance), she'll see an incarnation of herself as a man in cowboy clothes, just as she'd be in cowboy clothes, taking care of a stricken wife exactly the way she'll take care of her stricken husband.
Her attitude, I imagine, has nothing to do with her sense of femininity. I don't think, for her, femininity necessarily means "caregiver". I think "caregiver" is branded into her through her ranching childhood and she recognizes it as a no-nonsense Chore of Love, and a gift to be accepted. If it falls your way to take intense care of someone you love through decline, you would be foolish not to take the opportunity.
I'm thinking of you, Justice Sandra Day O'Connor. You amaze me again, as you have, regularly, as a U.S. Supreme Court Justice. I'm wishing you and your husband the fullest, best experiences this new adventure can make possible. Carry on.
Friday, July 1, 2005
Wow, this is news! Sandra Day O'Connor...
...is resigning from her chair on the U.S. Supreme Court in order to take care of her husband, who's been suffering from Alzheimer's. I'm pleased this is happening. Although I'm sure the decision to do this was second nature to Ms. O'Connor, who has lived her life in a truly original manner, I like the idea that this brilliant, energetic, influential woman who has the resources to buy the best in the way of care thought about it, probably researched the matter and decided that no one was as qualified to oversee her loved one's care as her. Although I'm sure she'll enjoy a healthy retirement and benefits from the government, please note, she isn't going to be paid for taking care of her husband.
More later.
More later.
So, yeah, I expanded on the theme of the previous post...
...over at Ieyeayeai. Just published it. Mom's stats are in. The bread is baking, a four hour loaf, this time. I'm sure I'll be back...
...later.
...later.
Caregivers of all stripes, parents, people taking care of adults and the infirm, Unite!
The more I thought about it during an early morning errands run shortly after publishing the last post, the more I realized how important it is for those of us being counted in the census to represent our unpaid work in the home on the American Community Survey so that it creates a blip of a demographic so the government will have to take unpaid labor in the home seriously. This is so important that I am going to devote a post to the subject over at Ieyeayeai. Look for that post later, probably sometime this evening.
She's up early today, looking good, feeling good, although not yet thinking that she's up to going out. We'll see. No blood in urine this morning. No unusual weakness.
I'll go record stats.
Later.
She's up early today, looking good, feeling good, although not yet thinking that she's up to going out. We'll see. No blood in urine this morning. No unusual weakness.
I'll go record stats.
Later.
Forgot to mention, I struck a blow for Caregivers, this morning.
Our Interim U. S. Census Questionnaire this year called the The American Community Survey arrived yesterday. I set myself to filling it out and getting it in the mail this morning. For "Person 1" I reported my mother as retired and her retirement income; I also reported her, in response to the questions about "long-lasting conditions" and "difficulty doing the following activities" as "Yes" across the board. For "Person 2", me, I reported that I worked full time, 100+ hours a week, in the home, with no compensation. I listed my "business or industry", and "kind of work" as "Caregiving" and "Caregiving". As far as "most important [job related] activities" I listed: "Taking care of mother".
I encourage all caregivers, full or part time, paid or uncompensated, to assert their true relationship to their care recipients in whatever way they can in this interim census. This is probably the single most important act of citizen political participation you can perform as a caregiver in a country who needs to recognize the work and the contribution of this class of people. Yes. Class. That's what we are right now, hanging precariously between income brackets, performing our most important duties to society for little or no compensation. If we are going to get any recognition from the government we need to show up in the census, people.
To encourage you to do all you can to represent yourself, your care recipient and your duties, here is how I managed to represent myself on the questionnaire (it took a couple of well-considered answer juggles to accomplish this):
Both: I represented both of us as living in the same residence, since we do.
Mother: I represented her as retired, represented her retirement income and was honest about her disabilities in section F, page 13 and 14.
Me: I represented myself in section H, page 11, question 23, as "x-Yes", doing work for either pay or profit. My reasoning was that the question goes on to explain that "Yes" should be x-ed "even if the person worked only 1 hour, or helped without pay in a family business or farm for 15 hours or more..." I reasoned I was an unpaid employee for a family business. In question 25 I represented myself as "x-Worked at home". I skipped to section J, page 12, question 33, and said I'd worked 52 weeks in the past 12 months. For question 34 I responded that I'd worked 100+ hours per week. Since I'm on call 24/7 I actually consider that I work 24/7 but I wanted to make a different point: That unpaid caregivers should be respected from the point of view of the professional sphere. On question 35, section K, page 12, I answered that I was "working WITHOUT PAY in family business or farm". I listed my "Mother: Name" as my employer in question 36. Questions 37's response was "Caregiving"; question 38: "x-other"; question 39: "Caregiving"; question 40: "Taking care of mother". For questions 41 - 42 I reported no income.
I figure that if caregivers answer the questions this way a pattern will emerge that will be noticed by someone, since the caregiver demographic is the largest section of the population right now.
I encourage all caregivers, full or part time, paid or uncompensated, to assert their true relationship to their care recipients in whatever way they can in this interim census. This is probably the single most important act of citizen political participation you can perform as a caregiver in a country who needs to recognize the work and the contribution of this class of people. Yes. Class. That's what we are right now, hanging precariously between income brackets, performing our most important duties to society for little or no compensation. If we are going to get any recognition from the government we need to show up in the census, people.
To encourage you to do all you can to represent yourself, your care recipient and your duties, here is how I managed to represent myself on the questionnaire (it took a couple of well-considered answer juggles to accomplish this):
Both: I represented both of us as living in the same residence, since we do.
Mother: I represented her as retired, represented her retirement income and was honest about her disabilities in section F, page 13 and 14.
Me: I represented myself in section H, page 11, question 23, as "x-Yes", doing work for either pay or profit. My reasoning was that the question goes on to explain that "Yes" should be x-ed "even if the person worked only 1 hour, or helped without pay in a family business or farm for 15 hours or more..." I reasoned I was an unpaid employee for a family business. In question 25 I represented myself as "x-Worked at home". I skipped to section J, page 12, question 33, and said I'd worked 52 weeks in the past 12 months. For question 34 I responded that I'd worked 100+ hours per week. Since I'm on call 24/7 I actually consider that I work 24/7 but I wanted to make a different point: That unpaid caregivers should be respected from the point of view of the professional sphere. On question 35, section K, page 12, I answered that I was "working WITHOUT PAY in family business or farm". I listed my "Mother: Name" as my employer in question 36. Questions 37's response was "Caregiving"; question 38: "x-other"; question 39: "Caregiving"; question 40: "Taking care of mother". For questions 41 - 42 I reported no income.
I figure that if caregivers answer the questions this way a pattern will emerge that will be noticed by someone, since the caregiver demographic is the largest section of the population right now.
Oh, that's right...
...I have dinner stats from yesterday. I'll do that later.
My mother was in bed most of the day, yesterday. I left her alone although I checked on her at least every half hour, sometimes every 15 minutes. A couple of times she'd open her eyes, I'd ask her if she wanted to get up or stay in bed, she'd mumble, "Stay in bed," and I'd return 15 minutes to a half hour later. She arose at around 1500. I know. Long time no hydration. Or movement. She did get herself to the bathroom a couple of times, I noticed, but still soaked the bed.
When she was up on end she was pink and perky. Didn't indulge herself in a nap. She retired around 2300. Oh, yeah, we watched that HBO movie, The Girl in the Café. Interesting characterizations. It was one of those "I insist" movies, so Mom was stuck with it whether she enjoyed it or not. Although it was a darker, literally bluer, type of movie than Mom's voiced preference, she liked it. Noticed Iceland. Asked if I might want to visit there. I replied, "Yes, if we can stop in Finland either going or coming." We made a pact for the future.
Her appetite was good. No vomitting, no nausea. I was expecting neither. She wasn't as dehydrated as I thought she would be. During her waking hours (I reminded her a couple of times that "in the last 24 hours [she'd] been awake and on end exactly six, to which she smiled beatifically and said, "I know, isn't it wonderful?!"), which did not include a nap, she ate two hearty meals, one a standard breakfast, took her pills as necessary (since she arose so late I skipped her iron supplement in favor of the antibiotics, which dose, at her breakfast time yesterday, was spaced exactly 24 hours from the last dose). There were 6 hours (or so) between her breakfast and her dinner. Between the two meals she had a peach and an 11.5 oz glass of V-8 juice. She got her cranberry juice in at dinner. Oh, yeah. I made her a Honeybaked Ham sandwich with sharp yellow cheddar on whole grain bread for dinner. Grilled it.
She didn't move much but watched TV avidly all evening. I meant to do her hair but we were enjoying ourselves so much I forgot. I suggested once that maybe she could move out to the dinette and I could beat the pants (although she wasn't wearing pants) off her in a couple games of Sorry. She wasn't having any.
I forgot to say, "Rabbit, rabbit." I think the first thing I said, this morning, was, "Little Girl," as I called her to breakfast. Mom's first word, uttered earlier this morning when my search for our cat disturbed her, was, "Okay," in response to me telling her she could go back to sleep. But, that's okay. I feel lucky, this month.
I've been baking bread again, even though the afternoons, over the last few days, have been hot enough to run the a/c for a few hours. Mom prefers to sleep in her room, which probably hovers between 85°F - 90°F. She likes it like that. I think it keeps her joints warm.
So, let me get over and record some stats for last night.
Later.
My mother was in bed most of the day, yesterday. I left her alone although I checked on her at least every half hour, sometimes every 15 minutes. A couple of times she'd open her eyes, I'd ask her if she wanted to get up or stay in bed, she'd mumble, "Stay in bed," and I'd return 15 minutes to a half hour later. She arose at around 1500. I know. Long time no hydration. Or movement. She did get herself to the bathroom a couple of times, I noticed, but still soaked the bed.
When she was up on end she was pink and perky. Didn't indulge herself in a nap. She retired around 2300. Oh, yeah, we watched that HBO movie, The Girl in the Café. Interesting characterizations. It was one of those "I insist" movies, so Mom was stuck with it whether she enjoyed it or not. Although it was a darker, literally bluer, type of movie than Mom's voiced preference, she liked it. Noticed Iceland. Asked if I might want to visit there. I replied, "Yes, if we can stop in Finland either going or coming." We made a pact for the future.
Her appetite was good. No vomitting, no nausea. I was expecting neither. She wasn't as dehydrated as I thought she would be. During her waking hours (I reminded her a couple of times that "in the last 24 hours [she'd] been awake and on end exactly six, to which she smiled beatifically and said, "I know, isn't it wonderful?!"), which did not include a nap, she ate two hearty meals, one a standard breakfast, took her pills as necessary (since she arose so late I skipped her iron supplement in favor of the antibiotics, which dose, at her breakfast time yesterday, was spaced exactly 24 hours from the last dose). There were 6 hours (or so) between her breakfast and her dinner. Between the two meals she had a peach and an 11.5 oz glass of V-8 juice. She got her cranberry juice in at dinner. Oh, yeah. I made her a Honeybaked Ham sandwich with sharp yellow cheddar on whole grain bread for dinner. Grilled it.
She didn't move much but watched TV avidly all evening. I meant to do her hair but we were enjoying ourselves so much I forgot. I suggested once that maybe she could move out to the dinette and I could beat the pants (although she wasn't wearing pants) off her in a couple games of Sorry. She wasn't having any.
I forgot to say, "Rabbit, rabbit." I think the first thing I said, this morning, was, "Little Girl," as I called her to breakfast. Mom's first word, uttered earlier this morning when my search for our cat disturbed her, was, "Okay," in response to me telling her she could go back to sleep. But, that's okay. I feel lucky, this month.
I've been baking bread again, even though the afternoons, over the last few days, have been hot enough to run the a/c for a few hours. Mom prefers to sleep in her room, which probably hovers between 85°F - 90°F. She likes it like that. I think it keeps her joints warm.
So, let me get over and record some stats for last night.
Later.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
My attention has been piqued and diverted...
...recently and lately, toward another project that was languishing. I expect to continue with it, but will not abandon my mother reporting.
I see I didn't report my mother's latest UTI, which was discovered yesterday afternoon upon awakening from her nap (blood in the urine). I did, however, discuss it in detail in yesterday's Daily Tests & Meds.
I expect her to be a little funky, today. I'm not sure whether it's symptomatic of the infections or the medication but she isn't at her best on antibiotics.
I continue to leave the ringer off the phone. I probably will through the July 4th weekend although I've got caller ID and will return calls if I recognize the caller.
I haven't even thought in terms of a July 4th celebration. Maybe we'll have something fancy, maybe I won't even mention the holiday.
So. Be it.
Later.
I see I didn't report my mother's latest UTI, which was discovered yesterday afternoon upon awakening from her nap (blood in the urine). I did, however, discuss it in detail in yesterday's Daily Tests & Meds.
I expect her to be a little funky, today. I'm not sure whether it's symptomatic of the infections or the medication but she isn't at her best on antibiotics.
I continue to leave the ringer off the phone. I probably will through the July 4th weekend although I've got caller ID and will return calls if I recognize the caller.
I haven't even thought in terms of a July 4th celebration. Maybe we'll have something fancy, maybe I won't even mention the holiday.
So. Be it.
Later.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
I've unplugged the phone...
...and I am going to be doing some diverse writing today, including a little necessary updating. I forgot to include my usual blood draw review here so I'm going to enter that backdated. It will help in interpreting my reaction to last week's doctor's appointment. I'm also going to look into Adult Day Care, again, prompted by the latest issue of Caregiver.com newsletter. I like the approach the editor mentioned. My mother has never been socially involved on an informal level but I know she has wished to get away from me at times, as I have from her. At times. Maybe I could get involved. Then again, maybe not. I need some down time, too.
Not at all sure what will happen today but I'm in a pleasant state of anticipation.
Weather report. Hmmm. Yesterday is was 85°F downtown. Felt much cooler than that up here. Today's high is expected to be 92°F and rising throughout the week and weekend. It's that time of year. Gusty winds, though. June Precip: 1.89". Excellent.
I'm considering a pesticide treatment on the outside but I cringe to think how many spiders we'll lose. We've got a problem with carpenter ants. Busy, productive little creatures. Not easily daunted. I'm considering using the self-application stuff. Doing it in the evening after 'everyone's' gone to bed. Mom is sensitive to just about anything. As it happens, over the last few days she and I have been suffering an allergic reaction to something, the gods only know what, that is as severe as a cold. We're both wondering, in fact, if we have colds and not allergies. Medical facilities are famous cold breeders. Even The Little Girl is sneezing.
Later.
Not at all sure what will happen today but I'm in a pleasant state of anticipation.
Weather report. Hmmm. Yesterday is was 85°F downtown. Felt much cooler than that up here. Today's high is expected to be 92°F and rising throughout the week and weekend. It's that time of year. Gusty winds, though. June Precip: 1.89". Excellent.
I'm considering a pesticide treatment on the outside but I cringe to think how many spiders we'll lose. We've got a problem with carpenter ants. Busy, productive little creatures. Not easily daunted. I'm considering using the self-application stuff. Doing it in the evening after 'everyone's' gone to bed. Mom is sensitive to just about anything. As it happens, over the last few days she and I have been suffering an allergic reaction to something, the gods only know what, that is as severe as a cold. We're both wondering, in fact, if we have colds and not allergies. Medical facilities are famous cold breeders. Even The Little Girl is sneezing.
Later.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Mom went to bed early.
I always worry about her revival during this time after a trip or a visit and we had both, one on top of the other. She spends a couple of days being tired afterward. But she continues to revive. Someday, of course, she won't. So far, though, she may spend most of any particular day in bed but she always wants to get up.
Good.
My concentration is split. I'm working on an essay that I've been writing in my head over the last month, an expansion on a theme, and my response to the doctor's appointment last week. So much to say, so little time, sometimes...
...later.
Good.
My concentration is split. I'm working on an essay that I've been writing in my head over the last month, an expansion on a theme, and my response to the doctor's appointment last week. So much to say, so little time, sometimes...
...later.
Today Mom has been "hung over," as she puts it,
from visiting. She was up early, then down early, before noon, then up again, around 1430, then down again. She's down now. She expressed some concern about "sleeping through the night." Although she's a little on the dehydrated side, I'm not worried and told her not to worry. If she sleeps, she sleeps.
"I'm not going to wake you, unless I get scared."
That worked.
Although MPS & Niece would be hard pressed to back this up, Mom moved a fair amount, for her, during the visit. We didn't do any therapy sessions. Mom got in one "wheeling the wheelchair" session at Home Depot and enjoyed herself. I believe she wheeled it through Costco as well...no, we went early that day. She was promisingly alert, tuned into conversations, sly and funny, and appreciative of "all the work" going on around her.
So, although I mentioned over in The Dailies that I was going to begin testing at lunch, I decided to test at dinner this week so I would have some data with which to decide whether to administer that third 2.5 mg lisinopril tablet each night.
I think I'll go through some stacked up email and fool around with the doctor's appointment post, which I've begun but remains in draft.
Later.
"I'm not going to wake you, unless I get scared."
That worked.
Although MPS & Niece would be hard pressed to back this up, Mom moved a fair amount, for her, during the visit. We didn't do any therapy sessions. Mom got in one "wheeling the wheelchair" session at Home Depot and enjoyed herself. I believe she wheeled it through Costco as well...no, we went early that day. She was promisingly alert, tuned into conversations, sly and funny, and appreciative of "all the work" going on around her.
So, although I mentioned over in The Dailies that I was going to begin testing at lunch, I decided to test at dinner this week so I would have some data with which to decide whether to administer that third 2.5 mg lisinopril tablet each night.
I think I'll go through some stacked up email and fool around with the doctor's appointment post, which I've begun but remains in draft.
Later.
I've just caught up...
...over at Movies, Mom & Me. I think some of the newest entries may surprise you.
I have one errand to run then I have no more excuses...well, I do, but they're poor...for putting off my reactions to our appointment last Thursday.
Our very warm but not yet really hot weather is beginning to set in. This is the right time of year for it, over the July 4th weekend. We moved up here, as a family minus one sister, on July 4, 1973. It was hot. Over 100 downtown, I believe. At that time, though, we also procured a house out of town, just about three quarters of a mile down the road on Elwood Drive. At that time the Phoenix metro-plex and Prescott weather were more closely related. The Phoenix metro-plex, now, has it's own weather system going. The mobile home we used to live in was in far east Mesa, so close to the border of Apache Junction that my parents, at one time, were allowed to register their car in Pinal County, the advantage being that they didn't qualify for the EPA tests. At the time my parents bought, their home complex was surrounded by orange groves and was typically the coolest region of the Valley, day and night. The air wasn't particularly good because of the pesticide spraying, but it had its advantages. All the groves are now gone, that area of Mesa is typically the hottest section of the Valley summer and winter and, although the pesticide spraying is almost gone, the Valley weather system drives all the pollutants to East Mesa where they are blocked into stagnation by the Superstition Mountain Weather System.
MCS noticed something that I'd only begun to observe previous to her and her daughter's visit. Mom has begun to refer to this house as being chosen by Dad (my father, her husband), although she 'remembers' this with fondness and is pleased with "his" choice. The funny thing is that my father did pick out the mobile home in Mesa and Mom used to, when her mind was much less creative, refer to that home as follows: "Yes, your Dad had to have this home. I never liked it. [faraway look] I always liked the farm. I don't know why he got rid of that."
I'm not sure why Mom is insisting on remembering Dad as being involved in the choosing of this house, although I'm sure he'd like it. Dad, though, had been dead eight years before Mom decided to look for a "summer home", and nine before she decided on this house. Could be because I have taken hold of this house and molded it for our comfort and appreciation, with the generous help of several family members. I am also most like my Dad and my style reflects some of his outlook, but mostly what I would call his "sunset" outlook, embodied in his love of and deep appreciation for sunsets. This house, literally, reflects his sunset outlook.
The pyracantha are filling in nicely over our western "sunset" window, producing a very subtle dappling on the carpet in the evening. I've got some general clean-up to do in the yard and need to establish our kindling pile. The compost has some rich, clean smelling dirt ready for use. I think I'll compost the remaining rose.
My plans for the house, all of which I've run by Mom for approval, are falling onto the floor of my brain, again. Redoing the bathroom. Taking out the wall between Mom's and my bedroom; the linen archway and the moving of Mom's closets. Sorting. Selling. Cleaning. I want to scope out having a Franklin insert or an Earth Stove inserted into our fireplace so we can use it without drawing smoke into the room. We've got plenty of choice wood in back, seasoned to perfection.
Today probably won't involve an a/c afternoon. Tomorrow and through the weekend probably will.
Errand Time.
Later.
I have one errand to run then I have no more excuses...well, I do, but they're poor...for putting off my reactions to our appointment last Thursday.
Our very warm but not yet really hot weather is beginning to set in. This is the right time of year for it, over the July 4th weekend. We moved up here, as a family minus one sister, on July 4, 1973. It was hot. Over 100 downtown, I believe. At that time, though, we also procured a house out of town, just about three quarters of a mile down the road on Elwood Drive. At that time the Phoenix metro-plex and Prescott weather were more closely related. The Phoenix metro-plex, now, has it's own weather system going. The mobile home we used to live in was in far east Mesa, so close to the border of Apache Junction that my parents, at one time, were allowed to register their car in Pinal County, the advantage being that they didn't qualify for the EPA tests. At the time my parents bought, their home complex was surrounded by orange groves and was typically the coolest region of the Valley, day and night. The air wasn't particularly good because of the pesticide spraying, but it had its advantages. All the groves are now gone, that area of Mesa is typically the hottest section of the Valley summer and winter and, although the pesticide spraying is almost gone, the Valley weather system drives all the pollutants to East Mesa where they are blocked into stagnation by the Superstition Mountain Weather System.
MCS noticed something that I'd only begun to observe previous to her and her daughter's visit. Mom has begun to refer to this house as being chosen by Dad (my father, her husband), although she 'remembers' this with fondness and is pleased with "his" choice. The funny thing is that my father did pick out the mobile home in Mesa and Mom used to, when her mind was much less creative, refer to that home as follows: "Yes, your Dad had to have this home. I never liked it. [faraway look] I always liked the farm. I don't know why he got rid of that."
I'm not sure why Mom is insisting on remembering Dad as being involved in the choosing of this house, although I'm sure he'd like it. Dad, though, had been dead eight years before Mom decided to look for a "summer home", and nine before she decided on this house. Could be because I have taken hold of this house and molded it for our comfort and appreciation, with the generous help of several family members. I am also most like my Dad and my style reflects some of his outlook, but mostly what I would call his "sunset" outlook, embodied in his love of and deep appreciation for sunsets. This house, literally, reflects his sunset outlook.
The pyracantha are filling in nicely over our western "sunset" window, producing a very subtle dappling on the carpet in the evening. I've got some general clean-up to do in the yard and need to establish our kindling pile. The compost has some rich, clean smelling dirt ready for use. I think I'll compost the remaining rose.
My plans for the house, all of which I've run by Mom for approval, are falling onto the floor of my brain, again. Redoing the bathroom. Taking out the wall between Mom's and my bedroom; the linen archway and the moving of Mom's closets. Sorting. Selling. Cleaning. I want to scope out having a Franklin insert or an Earth Stove inserted into our fireplace so we can use it without drawing smoke into the room. We've got plenty of choice wood in back, seasoned to perfection.
Today probably won't involve an a/c afternoon. Tomorrow and through the weekend probably will.
Errand Time.
Later.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Stat ketchup has occurred...
...over at The Dailies.
So, yeah, I'm feeling very mellow, and thinking, and thinking, and thinking...
...later.
So, yeah, I'm feeling very mellow, and thinking, and thinking, and thinking...
...later.
So, what's happening...
...is that I'm approaching my post about our last week's doctor's appointment from the side. Working up to it. Thinking about it some more. I'm fooling around with the movie section, right now, and then I'll probably bob over to stats and clean that up.
I'm...just thinking...
I'm...just thinking...
Company is gone...
...Mom is on her second nap of the day...so is The Little Girl...in her case, of course, it's Sacred Napping...it may be in Mom's case, too...and I'm making a little ketchup over at the movie site. Nothing entered yet, but soon. I'm looking into trading out some movies in which we aren't that interested for others that we are. Some, though, I plan to keep for our "collection". MPS & Niece are always delighted to go through our movies in the evenings and commented, this weekend, that they always see "really good movies" at our house. Last night it was The Straight Story. Night before it was, let me think...oh, yeah, Chocolat. I couldn't believe they hadn't seen it, especially considering my niece's devotion to Johnny Depp's work. Did we watch a film the night before that? I'm sure we did. I can't remember which one.
Mom was up more than, hmmm, well, maybe more than I expected, but, come to think of it, not more than she has been, lately. She was very animated during the visit and she asserted her dignity by seeing to it that I was the butt of many jokes. This time I cooperated. I was sturdy on keeping to a semblance of her usual routine and it "worked", whatever that might mean.
MPS and I catalogued, in detail, our aches and pains, shuddered to think what it might feel like in the joints, in bone, to be 87, and whether we wanted to experience this. It does, as the woman said, hurt to get old. You can attempt to be romantic about it, you can talk about readying the soul to leave the body blah, blah, blah, but bottom line, it fucking hurts. To age. And, the compensations aren't really compensations. They're just other aspects of being old.
The sudden and much enjoyed intrusion of company gave me some time to think about our bizarre doctor's appointment on Thursday. I'll later be doing some writing about it and doing stat ketchup over at the Daily site. All in good time. I've also got some car repairs to which to attend this week, primarily a dead battery to revive and replace and an a/c fan to repair, but some routine maintenance wouldn't hurt, either.
And, I have a sister to call. I think I'll do that now.
Mom was up more than, hmmm, well, maybe more than I expected, but, come to think of it, not more than she has been, lately. She was very animated during the visit and she asserted her dignity by seeing to it that I was the butt of many jokes. This time I cooperated. I was sturdy on keeping to a semblance of her usual routine and it "worked", whatever that might mean.
MPS and I catalogued, in detail, our aches and pains, shuddered to think what it might feel like in the joints, in bone, to be 87, and whether we wanted to experience this. It does, as the woman said, hurt to get old. You can attempt to be romantic about it, you can talk about readying the soul to leave the body blah, blah, blah, but bottom line, it fucking hurts. To age. And, the compensations aren't really compensations. They're just other aspects of being old.
The sudden and much enjoyed intrusion of company gave me some time to think about our bizarre doctor's appointment on Thursday. I'll later be doing some writing about it and doing stat ketchup over at the Daily site. All in good time. I've also got some car repairs to which to attend this week, primarily a dead battery to revive and replace and an a/c fan to repair, but some routine maintenance wouldn't hurt, either.
And, I have a sister to call. I think I'll do that now.
Hmmm...did I even mention why I wasn't thrilled with the Monte Carlo?
Let me check. Doesn't look like it. Seats too low and built wrong for both old and middle-aged hips. Although it was wonderful to drive in relaxed comfort, the seats were torture on the way back, for both of us. I looked into the possibility of renting a small SUV, next time. We'll see. By then the truck fan will be fixed, I'm sure.
Well! And, I'll bet I didn't mention the impending visit. I think I only a few hours past that last post knew about it myself. MPS & Niece drove in Friday morning, early, and left just a few hours ago. Very mellow visit. I had no time to prepare and very little time to freak. And, anyway, MPS doesn't care if I freak. She comes up anyway.
She finished dressing all our windows that need them with vertical blinds. Very refreshing! We had some divine weather, even a little rain. Very nice!
The weather report said 90°F downtown today. I don't think so. We're only in the low 70's right now up here. I think I'll unplug the phone and take a nap, an actual nap at a decent time, today. Extremely nice!
I have some stats, I think. And, some other things I want to address, not the least of which was our strange doctor's appointment in Mesa...
...later.
Well! And, I'll bet I didn't mention the impending visit. I think I only a few hours past that last post knew about it myself. MPS & Niece drove in Friday morning, early, and left just a few hours ago. Very mellow visit. I had no time to prepare and very little time to freak. And, anyway, MPS doesn't care if I freak. She comes up anyway.
She finished dressing all our windows that need them with vertical blinds. Very refreshing! We had some divine weather, even a little rain. Very nice!
The weather report said 90°F downtown today. I don't think so. We're only in the low 70's right now up here. I think I'll unplug the phone and take a nap, an actual nap at a decent time, today. Extremely nice!
I have some stats, I think. And, some other things I want to address, not the least of which was our strange doctor's appointment in Mesa...
...later.
