Me Next

Essentially, our attic is getting a liposuction job. Yesterday afternoon I patiently tried to read as the droning vacuum truck sucked the vermiculite out of our attic for three arduous hours. The rest of the day and, indeed, the previous morning, I had dutifully followed around the electrician who was replacing old outlets, answering questions and moving furniture. Thankfully, a call to substitute today broke the monotony and left Don and Mom to withstand the roar in my place. Next week, what’s left of our home’s old wiring will be stripped and replaced with fresh electrical veins, which will leave it in better shape than its owners. I could use a little “lipo and rewiring” myself.

Mom's House, Mom's Rules

It is with mixed results that we bring our landscaping expedition full circle. The weather seemed to be working both for and against me, I worked more than connected, and poor Mom had almost bi-polar reactions to the excursion.

The weather somewhat cooperated by issuing rain only at night and offering a chilling sunshine during the day. I had not expected the windchill factor that occurred and was, therefore, left to huddle in a too-small, too-thin, borrowed sweatshirt, but I suppose the bright side of that was the quick dissipation of any hot flashes while I toiled against the weeds. However, Mom, who is always cold, preferred turning up the heat in the house to donning a sweater, so outside was frigid while inside was stifling.

As my stiff, tender joints will attest, I did make some weeding progress. Although I couldn’t make myself go out twice a day as planned, I did stay out long enough each day to accomplish an acceptable amount of work. The cold wind made it less than pleasant to be outside, but the sense of accomplishment was worth it. Regretfully, I did not make time to call any friends. I feel badly about this neglect because they are so good to me, but I will call them first thing when we go back next month. Now that the entire front yard, which is the most noticeable to passersby, is done, I will be able to slow the pace a bit next time and work in some visiting for both Mom and I.

It was difficult for Mom to make the decision to live with us year-round five years ago and so we have made an effort to visit and maintain her home as often as possible. Our trips have declined during the last three summers because of her health issues, but this year the change of venue seemed to be more draining than enjoyable for her. When she came out of her room the first hour we were there, crying over the toilet that kept running, I began to rethink trying to travel with her any more. It is no longer a matter of freeing her from all the planning, packing, cooking, and work. Something has changed this year. After three days of reflection, I am thinking that the mere effort of moving her limbs has become such an all-consuming job that Mom no longer has the energy to find joy in much of anything. She still loves having people visit if they come to her, but even that can become tainted with her worry over whether they are enjoying themselves, or if they still like her, or if Don and I are making them feel welcome, or what she could possibly do for them. Sadly, I think that perhaps her physical frailty has somehow also created an emotional powerlessness.

So our trip has been a success of sorts, but perhaps a hollow one where Mom’s happiness is concerned. Yet, I know deep down that not making the trip would not necessarily have lessened her frustrations and, now that we are back, she is pleased at the accomplishment and at the memory of the two people who had stopped in to see her. I hope this will be enough motivation for her to try again next month.

Dear Betty,

Deb's grandkids:  3 Little Pigs

Last night was another Halloween; the sixth one since you left us. In the afternoon Don put out a few of our decorations while I worked on a window painting. Actually, rather than put a design directly on the window, I painted with acrylics onto a piece of plastic that we later taped to the window. Pretty ingenious, don’t you think? I know Vern would appreciate the idea. After the holiday I can roll it up and save it for another year; no mess, no fuss! We didn’t carve pumpkins this year, though. I know you would be disappointed if you were here, but it’s hard to find motivation for that now that our kids are grown. I always loved the results and the creativity, but hated the mess and effort.

Halloween was always more your holiday than mine. Remember in Fossil how you used to play a record of haunting sounds and dress as a witch to meet the kids at the door? As we sat at dinner last night, waiting for the first of over 60 trick-or-treaters we were to have this year, my mind went back to the first Hallowed Eve that you lived with us. The encroaching Alzheimers may have confused your thinking by then, but you were still you. The disease had not yet robbed you of the instincts that were based on long-term memories, making you who you were.

I’m not sure you could have told us that it was Halloween, but your hands had not forgotten; they still knew how to scoop out the inside of a pumpkin with very little prompting. I had fixed a simple, early dinner, but the sight of the first little goblin at the door destroyed all hopes of getting you to eat. As soon as you saw that little face, you were at the door, smiling and cooing at how cute he or she was. Don rushed over with the bowl of candy and helped you give one to the child, then steered you back to the table. During the next 15 minutes, you popped up more than a jack-in-the-box, so we finally gave up and Don placed a chair next to the front door for you to sit in between trick-or-treaters. It was a toss up who would get to the children first, you or Meggie, who was dressed up in her SuperMeg cape. Ironically, neither of you was interested in giving out the candy, just in greeting and fawning over the expectant visitors.

Yes, Halloween was definitely your holiday and our memories of your thorough enjoyment of it will always be with us. Thank you for reminding us how to find the joy in life; in the mundane repetitions that we often take very much for granted. As always, we miss you and your effervescent sense of fun and wonder, but we continue to keep you with us in spirit because you touched us deeply.

Love,

Your Family

Fall Back

It is no longer a question of whether or not to wear a coat, but rather, which coat or jacket will suffice. Colored leaves obliterate the ground and clog drains, brown mum blossoms are frozen in time like Vesuvius victims, the furnace is kicking on with regular frequency, and my ice scraper has been put into active duty. The final assurance that autumn is in control and swiftly moving toward winter is the approach of Halloween and the end of Daylight Savings Time. Oddly enough, this year they both occur today.

Judging from last night and today’s balmy 50 degree temperature, we may experience a break in the usual inclement weather tradition of Halloween in my neck of the woods. In Eastern Oregon it is customary for children and their parents to have to trudge around the neighborhood in foul weather on Halloween night. The deceptive sunshine of a fall afternoon does not fool the natives. Our trick-or-treating children are well padded beneath their oversized costumes in layers of sweats and coats. Even fairy princesses wear snow boots and mittens. It isn’t Halloween if a little skeleton’s rain-sodden cardboard bones aren’t falling off or Superman, the scarecrow, and the princess don’t have to navigate around snow banks and icy steps to get to each door.

I have never cared much for this holiday. Carving pumpkins is messy, building costumes took more imagination than I’ve ever possessed, and going from car to house to car, loading and unloading excited children with barely-held-together attire without losing a costume part, a child, or my sanity was nothing to look forward to. More than once I asked myself why we did this, but I know for certain it was only because of those little faces who couldn’t believe they were getting a bagful of treats for no reason at all. Visualizing them standing at a trusted neighbor’s door in their bedraggled outfit, saying the magic words (or, in Sarah’s case, stubbornly NOT saying them but flashing a dimpled smile as the candy is dropped into her pumpkin anyway), was all it took. And now that my kids are grown and gone, that is the part I miss. The only part. The happy faces at the end of the evening.

So, I wish good luck and good weather to all those parents and goblins heading out tonight with their costumes, goody bags, and flashlights. I will enjoy you all from the warmth of my living room as you come to my door and I will wish you a safe, dry, happy hallowed eve as I drop the best candy treats into your sacks (no healthy disappointment here). Take care, stay warm, and remember to push your clocks back an hour when you get home. You’ll need the extra sleep.

Genie - Day 7: Job Well Done

Er... Job: Well? Done.

It is satisfying to accomplish something, although not all jobs are measurable and not everyone will measure even the same job the same way. Our house painting project is a good example.

Did we paint on every side of the house and all the trim? Yes, we did. Did we paint every square inch? Um. No. However, we still consider the job “done” because we met our goal of scraping, priming, and painting all weathered areas, particularly on the second story. Considering how badly those areas were before our endeavor, and how much better protected and glowing they look now, we even consider the job “well done” (or done well). Now, if we had been painting the house a different color or if we had left an area of flaking paint, we could not claim such success.

Of course, there is another thought to consider if we are to be honest. In the back of our minds I think we had also dreamt of putting a coat of paint even on those protected areas that looked okay to freshen them up and feel like we had completely finished the job. However, after the store discontinued the paint we were using and all the hours we pushed ourselves to work each day to make use of the time we had the Genies, we just plain ran out of steam. Our body aches and diminishing energy drive simply overwhelmed our desire for perfection. So, the job is, well, done. It may just be a twist in semantics, but either way, we consider our house painting escapade an accomplishment.

Genie - Day 5: A Dose of Reality

Note to Self:
- Big toys do make the job go faster!
- I’m not 20 any more. Heck, I’m not even 30 or 40 any more. Why am I doing this?
- If I’m driving, don’t say left if you mean right; it could cost us the chimney.
- Bruises aren’t always visible.
- My eyebrows feel sticky, better check on that.
- If I only do half the physical work Don does, how can I feel just as exhausted?
- I still feel like I am swaying even after I turn off Four-by-Four for the night.
- What do you mean, someone wants dinner?
- Don’t aim the paint sprayer at yourself when you bend over to move a hose.
- Don’t aim the paint sprayer at yourself at any time.
- Lose fifty pounds.
- Lose it NOW.
- Does this joystick work backwards?
- When you ride with me, hold on and...DUCK!
- What divot in the lawn?
- Don’t close your eyes in the shower because it will start the rocking.
- Who took my stamina?
- Five glasses of water and I still can’t pee.
- Why are the neighbors smirking?
- How much is vinyl siding again?

Genie - Day 3: I Can See Your House From Here

By the time we drug ourselves into the house at 6:00 this evening, we had accomplished our first painting goal. Yesterday, the electric company unhooked the wires that supply the apartment because they block access to the north end of the house and the back dormer. Since that leaves Mom without her electric wall heaters, our goal was to get the three sides of the house that demand access via the backyard finished by tonight so that the electricity can be restored by tomorrow afternoon.

As of last night, Don had done the hardest work of power washing and scraping all of this area. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for me, I was called to sub so I only helped him finish taping paper over the windows later on. Genie Boom also called in her brother, Four-by-Four, because he is taller and has a longer reach that can extend across the pond on the north side of the house. Painting the second floor dormer.
Working together, Don and I took turns today with the painting and driving; one would paint while the other kept repositioning the cage. Between the spray painter and 4X4, the job went quickly and we made our way around the back of the house twice, once with primer and again with a top coat. So tomorrow we will only have to remove the paper from the windows and Mom can get her electricity restored. I got into a little bit of trouble for stopping to take pictures, but how often am I up this high (in the US anyway)?
Scraping and painting is a tiresome job that we have done many times. Although it was wearisome today for me because of the hot sun, there was definitely a fun side. Whereas, Don hated the height and the swaying of the cage, I have to admit that the tomboy in me really enjoyed learning how to negotiate both Genies. There are infinite possibilities for disaster, but they were still fun to carefully drive and power around into different heights and positions.

Okay, so maybe Jeremy got so many Tonka trucks because I secretly had a fascination for them, too. Who knows.

I Dream of Genie: Day 1

This is our new friend, Genie Boom. Genie is going to help us reach the north and south peaks of our house and the dormers. In the past, we have either painted up or out as far as we could reach with an extension ladder, or as far as Don could extend himself on the roof with the help of a rope tied to the chimney. The last time the peak was painted he lay down on the roof and hung his head and shoulders over the edge to paint upside down. I’m pretty sure I didn’t know about that plan until after it was executed.

So, now that there has been a new rule firmly in place for the last few years – absolutely no climbing on the upper roof, let alone hanging over the edge – we have begun to rely on outside help. This exchange of lower cost efficiency for higher retention of life and limb suits me fine, but irritates my better half. However, grudgingly acquiescing to the possibility that he no longer bounces, he has finally contracted the services of Genie. Of course, he did worry himself to a wheezing state over getting the best deal versus the taller machine, but it is working out in the end.

The nice gentleman who came by today to show Don how to operate the lift commented, “Man, I don’t see how you painted this house with ladders. There are some pretty tricky parts to this roof.” Exactly my point. Thank you, Genie.

Home

There is nothing like Eastern Oregon in the spring. It is the one time that even the Blues are green.