It's Working!

Ignore the weeds and rejoice with me that Don's idea for installing timed sprinklers is working! It took him about five trips to various stores, a bad deal at D&B, and a medium amount of grumbling, but the results are nice: the soaker hose is soaking and the small sprayers are spraying! And just in time, too, since we will be at Mom's house until next Sunday. So far, the 4-part system has just two lines hooked up to the timer. One line, that runs around my flowers in the back yard, around the pond, and on Don's tomato plants turns on twice a day for 20 minutes. The second line is hooked to a couple lawn sprinklers that, for now, are keeping my potted plants and front flowerbed watered 15 minutes per day until we return. I can't get over how nice this is!

We have a lot of work to do at Mom's while we are there. My goals are to finish the weeding; weed, feed, and water the lawn and flowers; and do a quick job of cleaning windows and the inside of the house. I would also love to clean out the freezer, but that means a trip to the dump. When arthritis sets into my hands, I will visit some friends and then look through old pictures with Mom so I can write down some of her thoughts about them. It will be nice to have some decent t.v. to watch while we're there, but I will certainly miss the computer. SEE YOU IN A WEEK!

Nostalgia

It's funny how everyday things that don't have any sentimental meaning can unexpectedly become catalysts of nostalgia. The other morning, when I was puttering around in my usual routine and running around to take quick photos for my silly blog on multi-tasking, I suddenly laid eyes on this soap decanter that always sat in Betty's kitchen and the little carved flowers that Vern made which I had plunked inside. Of all the hundreds of times that I see them each week, why did it stop me in my tracks that day? How many times had I stood at that sink in Fossil doing dishes after a big family meal, enjoying a conversation with Betty? Did I realize then how lovely that time was? Remember when Vern came home from AZ after learning how to carve those flowers and how he made some for everyone? It was like he had bars of gold in his pocket to share; and they always brought a smile to the receiver's lips. The same jolt happened again a few minutes later when I opened the fridge and spotted the jar of iced suntea I had made the day before. Remember how Betty took a gallon of it to work everyday during the summer for the "fellas"? It was the only tea Vern would ever drink and it somehow epitomized the essense of summer. It felt like Betty and Vern were standing beside me. These were such little things in their lives, yet they now mean so much to me. Maybe not so much the actual items as the memories they evoke. Somehow, it is those little memories that launch me back to meaningful moments in my life and, for a precious few minutes, shorten the gap between heaven and earth, now and hereafter. As human beings we seem to work hard to accomplish and accumulate things, big, important things; but I am learning that it is the small things we do that may matter most when we are gone. Did we smile enough, hug enough, or share enough tea with our friends and family? Did we laugh? Did we find joy? Did we give joy? Did we use our gifts to make someone else happy? What little things will hold our essence for those we leave behind? And will it make them smile?

Work In Progress

Last night I watched a rerun of the documentary, Farrah's Story, about her battle with anal cancer and its reoccurance. I thought it was well done and will surely meet her goal of enlightening the public about this type of cancer and the alternative treatments and need for more research. It was personal, sad, and poignant. Sadly, it also made me realize how much more substance there is to Farrah Fawcett than what I had perceived. Her faith, determination, courage, and kindness were incredible.

I would like to think that the media was generally responsible for my misconception, but the truth is that I have made such mistakes before. It is too easy to judge people based on a single reaction to a situation or on outward appearances such as facial expression, voice, or dress. I think I need to wear a disclaimer tag around my neck that says, "Wearer tends to reach hasty conclusions before perceiving all the evidence and begs your forgiveness and patience while she is being updated."

Multi-Tasking

Right now I am...

Isn't it nice to be able to get several things done at once? I forget to appreciate that ability. I must confess that, as research has shown, multi-tasking often means that much gets done, but little of it gets done very well. At least in my case, where I find that the water was forgotten in the same place for four hours, a kleenex escaped my notice when I loaded the washing machine, and Mom thinks something is wrong because I am ignoring her. But, still, it feels like an accomplishment, all the same.

I watch Mom go through her ritual of getting dressed in the morning. She still tries to multi-task, but it is much more difficult because she gets more side-tracked for longer periods of time. As a result, taking her morning coffee & pills, dressing, making her bed, and tidying her room takes her 3 1/2hours. Of course, part of that is just the snail pace at which she moves. Because her mind is still so good, she gets frustrated with herself, but I am impressed that she gets everything done. Sometimes I step in and help nudge things along, but for the most part I don't because it keeps her moving and I am beginning to see how if she stops moving, she'll soon be in a wheel chair.

I also think about how Alzheimers stopped Betty from being able to make choices or complete even one task, let alone several. Finding out what flavor of ice cream she wanted and whether she wanted it in a cone or a dish had to be broken down into either-or choices; vanilla or chocolate, cone or dish. So, I guess being able to even attempt multi-tasking is a good indicator that our neurons are still firing. Our attention may lapse a bit, but there is still hope.

My Spare Time

A-h-h-h-h-h. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Although my housekeeping, or lack of it, seems to deny this compulsion, I really do love organization. I prefer items to be out of sight, but handy and logically placed, which calls for constant negotiation with Don, who is much happier with everything within sight so it is immediately at his fingertips. Lately, I have been organizing my scrapbooking space. My paper fetish had gotten somewhat out of hand, so I organized the patterned paper into design groups and the solid cardstock into color groups. I'd prefer them in file drawers, but I couldn't find any that had 12 x 13 inch drawers.

Stamps, paints, die cuts, and doo dads fill up the labeled boxes and scrap paper is filed into large vinyl envelopes according to color. It will be so nice not to have to hunt through sacks for what I want any more. What? Too much time on my hands? H-m-m-m. Maybe. Or, maybe it is more like sublimation since I can't organize any other part of my life. Anyway, it keeps me busy and makes me feel like I have accomplished something in the end.

Label Those Pictures!

I have been wading through what I call "heritage pictures" - any photo that is at least 40 years old - all weekend. It is difficult when doing this to stay on task and only focus on those pictures that help me accomplish my goal. I have tried to make four different entries on my Such is Life... blog, but I keep running into the same problem of needing to verify information before putting it into print. Why didn't I write down those stories as soon as they were told to me? Why didn't I ask questions about details and about dates? Alas, I will muddle through on this quest of mine to create a heritage memory for my children through pictures and stories, but I hope we all learn a lesson from my struggle. WRITE INFORMATION IN ACID-FREE INK ON THE BACKS OF THOSE PICTURES!

Meanwhile, Robin sent some recent photos taken on her birthday last month and Annette sent some of their family from recent church activities and their spring vacation. Goodness, how the kids are all growing up!

Big Shot

Remember how the Duomo in Florence waited over a hundred years without its dome until Brunelleschi could reinvent how to build it? Or how a train track was laid over the Alps to connect Austria to Italy before a train had even been invented that could make the trip? Well, a few years ago I bought two sets of lower case alphabet dies even though I didn't have a die cut machine. The stores where I bought them were going out of business, so the price was right and I made the leap of faith that someday I would get the hand tool that used them. However, when I looked for the tool a few months ago, I found out it was not made any more. Jeesh. Not giving up hope, I eventually stumbled upon another machine that uses various brands of dies so I bit the bullet and bought it. No more numb fingers from using an exacto knife to cut out a title! As I continue to make progress on the kids' scrapbook albums while Mom is busy in her room, I am more and more thankful for my new, finger-saving toy.

Current Project

I just finished this hat for Mom. It is the same as the last one I knitted except that it is in the beige colors she requested. I had to make it an inch smaller in circumference, which was a trick with this design, but it worked.

Here, Ellie is helping me show the beginnings of a matching scarf.

A Note to My Kids

When I am ninety, please remind me of a few things in a kind but persistent manner:
...that most people can still hear me even when I think I am whispering
...that I have to move past the car door before it can be opened for me
...that people need more than six inches of space to get around me
...that you can’t answer me until I quit talking
...that I won’t hear your answer unless I actually listen
...that drawers and walker brakes are not malfunctioning, I just don’t have as much strength as I used to
...that two people very seldom can fit in a doorway simultaneously
...that silence or the lack of incessant chatter does not necessarily equal anger, sickness, a crisis, or pending divorce, but can often simply denote thoughtfulness
...that, similarly, the lack of a smile does not equal crankiness, but can simply mean a state of concentration
...that people are generalizing when they ask how I am
...that you have not yet mastered the art of instant materialization when I summon you from the bedroom (and you are in the bathroom or the basement)
...that not every bit of information that either of us knows is meant to be shared (most of it, but not every bit)
...that criticism from a ninety-year-old is just as hurtful as criticism from someone younger
...that patience is a virtue
...that I am valuable
...that you love me

Clarity

God bless little Liam who died in his mothers arms this morning. God comfort Liam's friends and family who were blessed by Liam in this life. And God bless the angels who are now trying to keep up with Liam in Heaven.

It's Not a Fauxhawk, But...

Here is Mom's new haircut. It's still not as short as the cut she admired on a lady in the doctor's waiting room, but pretty close. She wanted it this way the last two times I cut it and was disappointed that I chickened out. Now that I have finally done it, though, she is a little shocked and I'm not sure she really liked it at first. (I can't win for losing.) Oh well. It will grow back. I think it actually will look nice even on those days that she doesn't want to curl her hair.

Willie's Needlework

Living just a block away from us when I was growing up was a sweet, generous, tiny woman named Willie who worked as the head cafeteria cook at the grade school. She made the best lunches and all the kids loved her. In spite of several tradgedies in her life, she remained young at heart and a positive influence. Now Willie is living in the local assisted living complex and was the recent recipient of a "senior wish" which, according to The Dalles Chronicle, was to get a bird tattoo. The living facility drove her to The Dalles and paid for the tattoo while the newspaper documented the event. According to the article, she charmed everyone in the tattoo parlor as she has all the rest of her 98 years, giving the artist a kiss on the cheek because he didn't charge her. Hearing about this 4 1/2 foot dynamo reminds me how much more I need to focus on the positives in life.

A Day Out

It's not a raspberry margarita, but it will definitely do. A Raspberry Cheese Louise Low Fat Yogurt Baskin Robbin's milkshake if you please. How can anything with the words "low fat" taste so good, you ask? Probably because there isn't really much in it that is actually low in fat...and the bits of raspberry cheescake definitely help.

Today I struck out on my own for a sanity break. I only had three goals of my own: scrapbooking paper, sandals, and mulch. However, I thought it made sense to ask Don and Mom if I could pick up anything for them and, of course, I could so the trip took much longer. The most frustrating item was a refill for Mom's fine tip PaperMate pen. I have been on this quest before and I cringe when it is time to repeat it. Neither Staples, BiMart, WalMart, nor PayLess had it. Actually, BiMart had it, but only in black ink and Mom wants it only in blue; a "pretty" blue. *sigh* I was successful in finding everything else, though, but the lack of the pen refill was still duly noted when I came home and produced three sacks of her other goods.


Anyway, the day was not a total loss because I spent too much at the scrapbook store, found sale items at JoAnn's, remembered to get five bags of medium mulch, got another "free" coke glass with my lunch, and found some cute shoes at Shopko! Not the sandals I was looking for, but how could I resist these cute denims? The sandals will remain a quest for another day out. Ahhhh. Shoes and a BR milkshake. What a great day!

Could I have a Margarita With That Straightjacket?

Ever since Mom's medicines got changed in April, Mom has been working herself into a panic. She was convinced that the dosage changes were to be temporary, that they were causing her to fall asleep more, and that the doctor had simply forgotten about her. She asked me to make her an appointment and, once I talked with the nurse about Mom's worries we agreed that she would benefit from just coming in to visit so she got us in this week. Mom was relieved and seemed to have fewer "problems" after that, but was adamant about reminding me of the date of her appointment over the next week. Mom is definitely slowing down and the extra fluid that was in her lungs was a legitimate worry, but her body responded so well with the dosage changes that Don and I breathed a sigh of relief. However, it became for Mom a catalyst for worry and we, too, were glad of her upcoming appointment to settle her fears. But, here's that crazy thread that runs through the fabric of our lives... The night before her appointment, Mom came ambling to the table as we stood waiting for her, with a grimace on her face as she exclaimed, "I'll be so glad when this appointment is over!" Ba dum ching. Is that God's sense of humor? I would laugh if I wasn't so close to the edge.

Both the doctor and the nurse were really good with Mom. She went in loaded for bear with all of her complaints and questions and they were answered with patience and a touch of humor. They did another blood sample check and called back today to say that everything was fine and they both stressed that she should stay on medication until one of them called and told her to stop. The doctor was pleased that her lungs sounded better and that her blood pressure stayed the same when she went from laying down to standing up. Those were all things I was grateful to hear. However, Mom was more concerned to learn that taking a second non-aspirin at night would not be harmful and that the pinpoint-sized spot on her cheek was not cancerous. Although when she said that all she wanted to do everyday was sit around and the doctor only responded that he felt the same way, he made up for his humorous insolence by giving her an over-the-counter roll-on ointment to rub on her joints that hurt. So she is happy and back to her puttering and we are happy that she is happy. Now, where's my raspberry Margarita? (It's too late for the straightjacket.)

Heartache and Heaven

Could letting go also be
a different way of holding on;
like holding a butterfly
with an open palm?
Letting go
hurts
but can
lead to
healing.
Healing for
the one
hanging on
and
for the one
who is broken.
Not a
complete severing
of feelings,
Not a permanent
ripping apart
but
enough separation for healing
when they can’t
be whole
together
at
this moment,
this place
in time.

Joey K (December, 1998 - June 1, 2009)

Joey was a gentle soul who sought to be friends with everyone.

He was Meggie's best friend.

He preferred crunchies to wet food.

Loved milk and asked for it whenever he saw the carton.

Tried to be polite, but could hardly stand the suspense before he could lick your ice cream dish or milkshake glass.

Loved being home.

Was the only one brave enough to stalk and play attack or tag with Ellie.

Preferred wrestling with Ellie to cat toys.

Was passionate about his fish and had each one named and counted.

Curled up on my shoulder for Mom Time when he was a kitten and insisted he still fit there as an adult.

Spoke softly and was shy of guests.

Liked to sleep in the middle on the bed.

Always called shotgun on the back of the sofa at the living room window.

Loved being brushed and petted.

Waited his turn to use the bathroom to get his bedtime drink out of the sink faucet.

Tucked us into bed and then went downstairs to have an all-out game with Ellie before coming back to sleep.

Is loved by all his family.

Is missed already.

Blacky K (March, 1991 - May 31, 2009)

Among his brothers and sisters, Blacky was the Elder and final decision-maker.

He felt that the backyard and flowerbed was his "jungle" and made known his resentment at Mom's weedpulling.

Knew that he faded into shadows and used that to his advantage, only opening his eyes when he was ready to be found.

Loved to sleep under the big bush with white flowers.

Insisted on fresh, cold water in a glass.

Loved ice cream and milkshakes and knew unfailingly when you had either.

Knew you wanted to share.

"Did the laundry" daily by sleeping on the clothes-folding table on the stack of clean, folded towels.

Played with the neighbor's small dog.

Patiently raised his girl, Sarah.

Passionately loved being brushed and petted.

Spoke human, saying "out", "yeah", & "no" quite clearly.

Was gentle strength.

Is loved by his family.

Is missed already.