This day began like any other; I made breakfast for my dad and myself and then retreating to my room to sip on my coffee and look on the internet. After an hour or two, the doorbell rang and I heard my dad say, "I'll get it - I'm coming, just a minute!" The next thing I heard was my dad swearing and calling Kita to come back - she had slipped out the front door and went sniffing around the driveway. At that point, my mom went wheeling out to the door and I got to the door and went outside and yelled for Kita to come back. Being the stubborn dog that she is, she wouldn't come back, and every time I walked closer to her, she moved away that much more. First, I yelled at her like she was going to be in big trouble; then I called out nicely and offered her a cookie. Neither worked. The next thing I knew, she was wandering out into the street and I was yelling, "No, No, No!" as loud as I could. I saw a car come reeling around the corner and didn't even slow down. By the time I got to her, the car had already hit her and kept on going. I was screaming out "No" still and when I went down to pick her up, blood was coming from her mouth and head. I picked her up and her tongue was hanging out and her eyes were open wide and glazed over.
I brought her into the house and couldn't stop crying. I knew she was dead as I held her in my arms and my dad took her from me, put her in the car and drove to the vet. A little while later, he called me from the vet and asked me if I wanted her cremated and if I wanted her ashes. Well, of course I don't want her ashes, that's ridiculous to me, and all I could do was cry. My little friend of over a year, who laid by my side every night, was gone. That fast and without any regard. The guy who hit her was probably 90 years old and blind as a bat. She's black -- it would be obvious to see her on white pavement. Whether he did or not, I'll never know and it doesn't matter anyway. I'm only glad she didn't suffer, because I think she died instantly. It would have been nice, however, for him to stop and come back and at least apologize. But if people won't do that for human beings, I guess why would they for a dog.
I laid in bed all afternoon after calling my kids and telling them what happened. I slept on and off and kept feeling like my heart was broken. Anyone with a love for animals knows what I mean and has probably been there. I wondered, how many times can a heart be broken? It breaks over so many disappointments in life that sometimes it seems it can't break anymore. But then time goes by and your heart must heal because somewhere down the line it breaks again.
I think if your heart breaks, sometimes over and over again, then you must be a compassionate person who lends themselves to be put in the position of being heartbroken. At first that sounds crazy or even ridiculous, but I don't think it is. A person with a broken heart, has a heart to be broken. Those people who don't feel this way about anything, have a hard, inpenetrable heart which lacks compassion and love. I would much rather be the former, in all ways and for all reasons.
But in the meantime, I hurt with real heartache. Will I get another dog? Yes, somewhere down the road, I most probably will. Why would I do that to myself, to endure yet another heartache one day? Because the love and devotion that comes from a dog is something that can't be explained, but only felt and experienced. And because I love to be loved and return it back again. It's the very essence of human need. And so, I must say, today I'm thankful for a heart that is broken...
Friday, December 2, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
My Parents' Relatives
I've been looking at (I say "looking at," because I'm generally not a reader per se), a book called, "Hooray for Yiddish" by Leo Rosten. He's also the author of "The Joys of Yiddish" I've spoken about before, that if you ever want a good laugh, pick up and read these books. It's true that if you're Jewish that would help to understand this humor, but even if you're not, you will enjoy the sounds and meanings of Yiddish words. Yiddish is a very old language consisting of Hebrew, German and Slavic languages -- a "fusion" of languages. It was a language I was raised with, since all of my older relatives spoke it and especially spoke it when they didn't want us kids to know what they were saying. Pretty much all of those people have passed on and so this is very rarely spoken in my parent's house now unless she's talking to an old friend. We do say certain words in Yiddish, of course, but I haven't heard a whole conversation in a long, long time.
My mother has another doctor appointment this Wednesday. Their office called to confirm today and I'm glad they did because of what happened last week. My mom had told me that she had a doctor appointment on Monday at 1:30, so I took her over there on time. It's quite a schlep from the car to the office and so I dropped my mom off at the door so she could go on up. I parked the car and then went up to the office only to find my mom standing there sheepish-looking, smiling and saying, "Oh honey, I thought the appointent was today! (Uncomfortable chuckle.) It's tomorrow at 1:30." I sat down to catch my breath and didn't say anything to my mom because I wouldn't have said anything kind, so I bit my tongue. Then, down we went, back to get the car and go home. This has happened more than 3 or 4 times now. So from now on, I'm asking my mom to confirm her or my dad's appointments ahead of time.
I guess I have to blame this on my mom's early dementia. She seems confused about a lot of things, and then clear about others. On Thanksgiving, when we had all those people over, she sat there eating and said only a few words. It was kind of strange, but she seemed perfectly content to just eat and basically ignore everyone. She sat next to me and across from a friend of hers and seemed to be quite comfortable. My dad sat at the other end of the table and was stuck by my mother's cousin who is loud and obnoxious. He looked pretty miserable. My dad also just basically ate and said very little. It was all very odd. My mom's cousin monopolized the whole conversation. I said a few things I probably shouldn't have to this woman because she was getting on my nerves. She brought two pies - a berry and chocolate cream and she kept telling me that we didn't need the chocolate cream one since I made Tiramisu and I kept telling her we would still be able to use it. She kept arguing with me about it and I just put it out anyway. Why did she bring the bloody pie if she didn't want me to put it out? I envisioned pushing the whole pie in her face. Ah, but alas, I'm a grownup and you can't do those kinds of things when you're a grownup. My dad really liked it and I was going to give him some the next day, but it was gone. She had taken it home. Idiot.
I've never really liked my parents' relatives, from the time I was a young girl. Some of them were "too Jewish" or obnoxious or geeks. I guess I thought I was too cool for any of them. I hated family holidays when our relatives came to our house and even worse, if we had to go to theirs. I would hole myself up in my room if they came over to my house. I just sat and waited to leave if we had to go to theirs. It was never fun because my brothers and I had nothing in common with any of them. I really don't know why - we just didn't.
I'm looking forward to going home and spending the holidays with my kids and grandkids. That's who I'm the most comfortable with. Even though we do a lot of arguing and fussing, I missed my family on Thanksgiving. And Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I'll be spending it with them. I love to see my grandkids light up with joy when they open their Christmas presents - it gives me a lot of joy too. It's really true that it's better to give than to receive. That is, if it's not a chocolate cream pie...
My mother has another doctor appointment this Wednesday. Their office called to confirm today and I'm glad they did because of what happened last week. My mom had told me that she had a doctor appointment on Monday at 1:30, so I took her over there on time. It's quite a schlep from the car to the office and so I dropped my mom off at the door so she could go on up. I parked the car and then went up to the office only to find my mom standing there sheepish-looking, smiling and saying, "Oh honey, I thought the appointent was today! (Uncomfortable chuckle.) It's tomorrow at 1:30." I sat down to catch my breath and didn't say anything to my mom because I wouldn't have said anything kind, so I bit my tongue. Then, down we went, back to get the car and go home. This has happened more than 3 or 4 times now. So from now on, I'm asking my mom to confirm her or my dad's appointments ahead of time.
I guess I have to blame this on my mom's early dementia. She seems confused about a lot of things, and then clear about others. On Thanksgiving, when we had all those people over, she sat there eating and said only a few words. It was kind of strange, but she seemed perfectly content to just eat and basically ignore everyone. She sat next to me and across from a friend of hers and seemed to be quite comfortable. My dad sat at the other end of the table and was stuck by my mother's cousin who is loud and obnoxious. He looked pretty miserable. My dad also just basically ate and said very little. It was all very odd. My mom's cousin monopolized the whole conversation. I said a few things I probably shouldn't have to this woman because she was getting on my nerves. She brought two pies - a berry and chocolate cream and she kept telling me that we didn't need the chocolate cream one since I made Tiramisu and I kept telling her we would still be able to use it. She kept arguing with me about it and I just put it out anyway. Why did she bring the bloody pie if she didn't want me to put it out? I envisioned pushing the whole pie in her face. Ah, but alas, I'm a grownup and you can't do those kinds of things when you're a grownup. My dad really liked it and I was going to give him some the next day, but it was gone. She had taken it home. Idiot.
I've never really liked my parents' relatives, from the time I was a young girl. Some of them were "too Jewish" or obnoxious or geeks. I guess I thought I was too cool for any of them. I hated family holidays when our relatives came to our house and even worse, if we had to go to theirs. I would hole myself up in my room if they came over to my house. I just sat and waited to leave if we had to go to theirs. It was never fun because my brothers and I had nothing in common with any of them. I really don't know why - we just didn't.
I'm looking forward to going home and spending the holidays with my kids and grandkids. That's who I'm the most comfortable with. Even though we do a lot of arguing and fussing, I missed my family on Thanksgiving. And Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I'll be spending it with them. I love to see my grandkids light up with joy when they open their Christmas presents - it gives me a lot of joy too. It's really true that it's better to give than to receive. That is, if it's not a chocolate cream pie...
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thanksgiving
Today is November 24, 2011 and considered Thanksgiving in the United States. It's a great holiday that most of us think about all the things that we are thankful for, and a lot of us are thankful to God for these things. If you look on Facebook, you see many people telling others what they are thankful for. I'm not sure who or what athesists attribute their thanks to. I am thankful to God every day, not just on one particular day. I actually think most people are. Except, I suppose, for those who think their lives are miserable. But I've discovered, that there is always someone else who is worse off than me. Always. Keeping that in mind, I am always thankful for my life, my children, my circumstances and my little world. God has blessed me in numerous ways, and I am ever thankful to Him.
I have to remember to also thank Him for the things which are not such a blessing. Like my health, for instance. There's a reason for all things, and truthfully, I'm to blame for the most part regarding my health. If I had taken better care of myself all these years, I probably wouldn't have so many issues today. But I'm still thankful for my health. I could be dying from cancer in hospice, but I'm not.
I thank Him because we will have friends and relatives of my mom over today for dinner, even though I would much rather be with my childen and grandchildren. I miss them terribly. But for today, we invited people over who have no where else to go and who are alone. I did that for every Thanksgiving when I was raising my kids. My house was always filled with single, alone people who had no family around. It bothers me to think of people who are not with friends or family on holidays.
I thank God because I was able to spend so much time with my parents when they needed me the most, even though it meant being away from my children and grandchildren. It's a blessing to be able to do these things and still be able to support myself with disability checks. I imagine that some people would disagree. But until you've walked in another person's shoes, it's impossible to pass judgment on that person. I've learned that too.
I thank God because even though I get depressed at times, I feel an undergirding joy within myself that is hard to explain. Joy and peace are "things" that you can't purchase or borrow or beg for. They come only and exclusively from God. You can be in the middle of a hurricane with problems surrounding you, but if you're in the will of God, you're in the palm of His hands, and you can have this joy amidst all the confusion.
So the list is endless of what I am thankful for. I don't have enough room in this Blog to describe each and every thing. I'm only 56, but I've learned a lot in my short life. I've learned that you can't make someone love you, but you can still love them. I've learned that you can't shove the Word of God down someone's throat, but you can pray for them and be there for them when they need you (or God). I've learned that you always love your children more than they love you - something a good friend told me a long, long time ago, and I've found out that this is true. I've learned that I am blessed beyond measure, but I'm not as thankful as I should be at times. And I've learned that life is truly so short that we should always tell each other we love them and how we feel about them. Next to our relationship with God, is our relationship with others that is so paramount. Our husbands, our wives, our children, our friends, our family. And so, I must say that I am very thankful for you...
I have to remember to also thank Him for the things which are not such a blessing. Like my health, for instance. There's a reason for all things, and truthfully, I'm to blame for the most part regarding my health. If I had taken better care of myself all these years, I probably wouldn't have so many issues today. But I'm still thankful for my health. I could be dying from cancer in hospice, but I'm not.
I thank Him because we will have friends and relatives of my mom over today for dinner, even though I would much rather be with my childen and grandchildren. I miss them terribly. But for today, we invited people over who have no where else to go and who are alone. I did that for every Thanksgiving when I was raising my kids. My house was always filled with single, alone people who had no family around. It bothers me to think of people who are not with friends or family on holidays.
I thank God because I was able to spend so much time with my parents when they needed me the most, even though it meant being away from my children and grandchildren. It's a blessing to be able to do these things and still be able to support myself with disability checks. I imagine that some people would disagree. But until you've walked in another person's shoes, it's impossible to pass judgment on that person. I've learned that too.
I thank God because even though I get depressed at times, I feel an undergirding joy within myself that is hard to explain. Joy and peace are "things" that you can't purchase or borrow or beg for. They come only and exclusively from God. You can be in the middle of a hurricane with problems surrounding you, but if you're in the will of God, you're in the palm of His hands, and you can have this joy amidst all the confusion.
So the list is endless of what I am thankful for. I don't have enough room in this Blog to describe each and every thing. I'm only 56, but I've learned a lot in my short life. I've learned that you can't make someone love you, but you can still love them. I've learned that you can't shove the Word of God down someone's throat, but you can pray for them and be there for them when they need you (or God). I've learned that you always love your children more than they love you - something a good friend told me a long, long time ago, and I've found out that this is true. I've learned that I am blessed beyond measure, but I'm not as thankful as I should be at times. And I've learned that life is truly so short that we should always tell each other we love them and how we feel about them. Next to our relationship with God, is our relationship with others that is so paramount. Our husbands, our wives, our children, our friends, our family. And so, I must say that I am very thankful for you...
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Decisions
I refuse to eat the peanut butter that we have in the house, because my dad insists on scooping it out with his knife and licking it off. I told him that was disgusting and he just laughs with his mouth wide open and peanut butter stuck to his tongue. When we were kids, he would drink the milk from the milk bottle and put it back in the refrigerator. I thought it was cool that he could do that, but we couldn't. He also used to sit down with a half-gallon box of ice cream and eat right out of it. My dad was really lucky, as far as I was concerned.
I didn't know about germs then, but now, I'm a bit of a freak when it comes to some germs. Like, I don't allow anyone, not even Shanti, to drink from the same bottle, can or glass that I'm drinking from because I just find that gross. I suppose if I were in the desert or on a deserted island and I had to share my drink with another person, I would. But that would be the only exception.
The past few days I've been thinking about how long I should actually be here. After much thought and prayer, I decided to see how things go after the month I will be gone in December/January. If my parents do ok, I decided to switch this around and be in Madison full time, but go to my parents for a couple weeks at a time when I'm needed. I discussed this with them and they seem to be just fine with it. My mom appeared to be a little apprehensive about it, but she said that was fine, that she knows I miss my kids and grandkids and she understands. The fact is, she is doing much better. She needs to, however, get over her fear of falling. She uses the wheelchair most of the time because she's afraid to fall, but she should be using her walker more. She has many friends who live on the same street or who she can call to help her with small things she can't do or go to the grocery store or pharmacy for them. And they both have that necklace thing that if you push it, it calls emergency. She's a long way from where she was when I first got here. It's hard to believe I've been here nearly 6 months.
I told them both that neither one of them should drive. My dad can't see past his nose and besides that, he has road rage, and with both combined, he is a lethal weapon. My mom can see but she's confused most of the time and has given me the wrong direction now more than one time. I end up going miles out of the way when she tells me where to go, and getting frustrated because she simply doesn't remember where places are at. They don't use a cell phone, so I fear she would get lost and simply not know what to do. So I will be talking to a few of her friends to offer their assistance with grocery shopping and going to Walgreens. Those are really the only places they go. Last time we went shopping, she nearly knocked down a tall display by backing up and going forward in the same place. I had to go back and tell her to turn the handle so she could clear it. She was clearly frustrated and embarrassed, and I shouldn't have laughed, but it really was funny watching her contine to bash into the food display.
What will I do and where will I go when I go back home? Well, Leah wants me to stay with her and so Shanti and I would share her room, which I will love. It will be tight quarters but as long as I keep my opinions to myself, we'll get along just fine. I'm looking forward to being with my grandchildren more often, as I really miss them. Living with old people who can't hear and don't do or go anywhere, becomes a bit depressing at times. I can only listen to the Military Channel so much, then I become nauseated. I know I was supposed to come here when I did, and I knew I would know when it was time to go back home. After next month, it will be the determining factor to see if my parents will be able to get along without me for longer periods of time. I really wish they would consider assisted living, but they refuse to leave their home. I understand that, but at some point, they will probably have no other choice.
In the meantime, Bob and Eun will have to learn once again how to live with each other alone in the house. I think they'll be fine, as long as they behave themselves.
I didn't know about germs then, but now, I'm a bit of a freak when it comes to some germs. Like, I don't allow anyone, not even Shanti, to drink from the same bottle, can or glass that I'm drinking from because I just find that gross. I suppose if I were in the desert or on a deserted island and I had to share my drink with another person, I would. But that would be the only exception.
The past few days I've been thinking about how long I should actually be here. After much thought and prayer, I decided to see how things go after the month I will be gone in December/January. If my parents do ok, I decided to switch this around and be in Madison full time, but go to my parents for a couple weeks at a time when I'm needed. I discussed this with them and they seem to be just fine with it. My mom appeared to be a little apprehensive about it, but she said that was fine, that she knows I miss my kids and grandkids and she understands. The fact is, she is doing much better. She needs to, however, get over her fear of falling. She uses the wheelchair most of the time because she's afraid to fall, but she should be using her walker more. She has many friends who live on the same street or who she can call to help her with small things she can't do or go to the grocery store or pharmacy for them. And they both have that necklace thing that if you push it, it calls emergency. She's a long way from where she was when I first got here. It's hard to believe I've been here nearly 6 months.
I told them both that neither one of them should drive. My dad can't see past his nose and besides that, he has road rage, and with both combined, he is a lethal weapon. My mom can see but she's confused most of the time and has given me the wrong direction now more than one time. I end up going miles out of the way when she tells me where to go, and getting frustrated because she simply doesn't remember where places are at. They don't use a cell phone, so I fear she would get lost and simply not know what to do. So I will be talking to a few of her friends to offer their assistance with grocery shopping and going to Walgreens. Those are really the only places they go. Last time we went shopping, she nearly knocked down a tall display by backing up and going forward in the same place. I had to go back and tell her to turn the handle so she could clear it. She was clearly frustrated and embarrassed, and I shouldn't have laughed, but it really was funny watching her contine to bash into the food display.
What will I do and where will I go when I go back home? Well, Leah wants me to stay with her and so Shanti and I would share her room, which I will love. It will be tight quarters but as long as I keep my opinions to myself, we'll get along just fine. I'm looking forward to being with my grandchildren more often, as I really miss them. Living with old people who can't hear and don't do or go anywhere, becomes a bit depressing at times. I can only listen to the Military Channel so much, then I become nauseated. I know I was supposed to come here when I did, and I knew I would know when it was time to go back home. After next month, it will be the determining factor to see if my parents will be able to get along without me for longer periods of time. I really wish they would consider assisted living, but they refuse to leave their home. I understand that, but at some point, they will probably have no other choice.
In the meantime, Bob and Eun will have to learn once again how to live with each other alone in the house. I think they'll be fine, as long as they behave themselves.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Kita's Stuff
As I sit in my room, at the computer, out of the corner of my eye, I see Kita come slowly trotting in, carrying my dad's slipper and hiding behind my bed. Today it's his slipper. She has snuck in tissues, socks, popsicle sticks, wrappers from ice cream cones, pieces of wood and an assortment of articles I know not what they are. It all goes behind my bed, and if I try to get them, she scurries under the bed with them, where I cannot reach. So, under my bed lies all kinds of treasures only a dog would appreciate. I just hope nothing that smells gets under there, because then I would have a problem.
The way she comes in with her treasures, amuses me. She acts like she's invisible and that I can't see her and trots proudly right over to her little corner of the world. She almost looks surprised when I go back there and reach out to pick up what she's brought in. She's usually faster than I am to pick it up, and down she goes under the bed. At that point, I give up. It's just not worth it to get on the floor and try to retrieve it from under the bed.
Today, my mom and I went to the Jewish Community Center in Venice, that my mom and a few of her friends actually started about 30 years ago. She's real proud of that, but hasn't been to services there in a long time due to all of her ailments. We went today because tomorrow they are having a large rummage sale, and I always like to look at the art in rummage sales, and since she knows the people there, we went before the sale started so I could see what they had. I bought a large oil painting by Charles Stepule (1911-2006) and I really like it. It's a painting of an ocean bluff with a house and tree on the side of the bluff. It's kind of dark, but I took a quick photo of it below. The colors he used in it are amazing.
The way she comes in with her treasures, amuses me. She acts like she's invisible and that I can't see her and trots proudly right over to her little corner of the world. She almost looks surprised when I go back there and reach out to pick up what she's brought in. She's usually faster than I am to pick it up, and down she goes under the bed. At that point, I give up. It's just not worth it to get on the floor and try to retrieve it from under the bed.
Today, my mom and I went to the Jewish Community Center in Venice, that my mom and a few of her friends actually started about 30 years ago. She's real proud of that, but hasn't been to services there in a long time due to all of her ailments. We went today because tomorrow they are having a large rummage sale, and I always like to look at the art in rummage sales, and since she knows the people there, we went before the sale started so I could see what they had. I bought a large oil painting by Charles Stepule (1911-2006) and I really like it. It's a painting of an ocean bluff with a house and tree on the side of the bluff. It's kind of dark, but I took a quick photo of it below. The colors he used in it are amazing.
I love art - the creating of it, looking at it and watching others create it. I wanted to be an art teacher when I was younger, but I wasted my youth. My dad was willing to put me through the Art Institute of Chicago, but I was young then and thought I wanted something different for my life. So instead, I ended up being a boring secretary out of necessity, because that was the only skill I had learned that would sustain my children and I. I have a lot of regrets in my life, and that is one of them.
I think I should be more like Kita. Trot around like I'm invisible and hide the good stuff so no one can find them. Kind of like my Butterfingers. But moreso, hide the things that mean the dearest to me, most of which are invisible anyway, so that no one can steal them away. Hide them in a special, protective place where no one can enter unless I let them. I suppose that place would be my heart.
Or, in the case of Butterfingers, the second drawer to my dresser.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Traffic
I was drinking my coffee this morning, looking out the window and I saw what looked like a cat or big bird, perched on the roof of a house across the street. So when I went out later in the afternoon, I drove right next to the house and sure enough, there is a cement statue of a large cat or a huge owl - I couldn't tell which - lodged right there on their roof. How odd, I thought. Why would someone do that? Some peoples' sense of art or decoration is very odd. I love art and I love exotic and peculiar things, but that just looks stupid.
It goes along with the yards of some people that are made out of white stones. I mean, the yard isn't grass, but it's all stones. Who would want to walk on that, and how is that appealing? You see a lot of that in Florida, and I would guess it's because the people don't want to upkeep their lawns, but if I spent the money on a house, I would definitely have a nicely landscaped lawn as well. It's more inviting. The houses with the stones look like the Flintstones live there, and very unappealing. It's like you're waiting for their car made out of rocks to come reeling out of the garage.
I said before that the people drive here, generally, very slow, because of course, they're all old. But every now and then, I get someone behind me who sits right on my tail trying to get me to drive faster. This happened the other day, and I looked in the rear view mirror and this little old lady, clutching the steering wheel with both hands, was right on my tail, looking agitated because I was going 5 miles over the speed limit - too slow. The picture of her in my mirror made me laugh, so just to annoy her a little more, I drove a bit slower. I can be mean like that at times. When I drove my car in Madison, I would shout out the window to the driver in back of me, "Go ahead and hit me, you moron; I need a new car!" Of course they never do. Anyone who has ever ridden in the car with me can readily see that I got my license in Chicago. I'm definitely a Chicago driver. Not that that's a bad thing - it just means that I yell a lot and drive like a maniac at times. After all, I learned to drive on the Dan Ryan, and if you don't know what that is, ask someone. It's a crazy highway in Chicago and you have to be crazy to drive on it.
And now, it's the "season" down here, and traffic has picked up considerably. So now all the crazy nothern drivers are here, combined with the slow-poke old people who live here year round, which causes great chaos. As much as I can't stand Florida, I must admit the weather right now is beautiful. And so I understand why the northerners trapse (another Yiddish word, much like "schlep") down here. My choice, however, would be California - not Florida. Because it's beautiful there with low humidity and no mosquitoes. I love to sit outside and at night, it's unbearable in Madison because of all the mosquitoes. Sometimes there are so many that they could probably carry you away - or at least bite you away. The same is true for Florida. I don't know why God made mosquitoes. They're obnoxious and serve no good purpose.
One of these days, I want to go and look at motorhomes at a business closeby. My dream has always been to travel the country in a motorhome when I retired. Who knows, maybe I'll actually get that opportunity one day. When Micah was a little boy, he would always tell me that he was going to get me a motorhome when he was a big boy. Hmmm... Maybe I should go and hit him up on that now....
It goes along with the yards of some people that are made out of white stones. I mean, the yard isn't grass, but it's all stones. Who would want to walk on that, and how is that appealing? You see a lot of that in Florida, and I would guess it's because the people don't want to upkeep their lawns, but if I spent the money on a house, I would definitely have a nicely landscaped lawn as well. It's more inviting. The houses with the stones look like the Flintstones live there, and very unappealing. It's like you're waiting for their car made out of rocks to come reeling out of the garage.
I said before that the people drive here, generally, very slow, because of course, they're all old. But every now and then, I get someone behind me who sits right on my tail trying to get me to drive faster. This happened the other day, and I looked in the rear view mirror and this little old lady, clutching the steering wheel with both hands, was right on my tail, looking agitated because I was going 5 miles over the speed limit - too slow. The picture of her in my mirror made me laugh, so just to annoy her a little more, I drove a bit slower. I can be mean like that at times. When I drove my car in Madison, I would shout out the window to the driver in back of me, "Go ahead and hit me, you moron; I need a new car!" Of course they never do. Anyone who has ever ridden in the car with me can readily see that I got my license in Chicago. I'm definitely a Chicago driver. Not that that's a bad thing - it just means that I yell a lot and drive like a maniac at times. After all, I learned to drive on the Dan Ryan, and if you don't know what that is, ask someone. It's a crazy highway in Chicago and you have to be crazy to drive on it.
And now, it's the "season" down here, and traffic has picked up considerably. So now all the crazy nothern drivers are here, combined with the slow-poke old people who live here year round, which causes great chaos. As much as I can't stand Florida, I must admit the weather right now is beautiful. And so I understand why the northerners trapse (another Yiddish word, much like "schlep") down here. My choice, however, would be California - not Florida. Because it's beautiful there with low humidity and no mosquitoes. I love to sit outside and at night, it's unbearable in Madison because of all the mosquitoes. Sometimes there are so many that they could probably carry you away - or at least bite you away. The same is true for Florida. I don't know why God made mosquitoes. They're obnoxious and serve no good purpose.
One of these days, I want to go and look at motorhomes at a business closeby. My dream has always been to travel the country in a motorhome when I retired. Who knows, maybe I'll actually get that opportunity one day. When Micah was a little boy, he would always tell me that he was going to get me a motorhome when he was a big boy. Hmmm... Maybe I should go and hit him up on that now....
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Cottage Cheese
I was trying to take a nap with Kita this afternoon and my door was closed, when my mom opened it, saying, "Sis? Sis?" I said, "What?" through my breathing machine. She said, "Oh, honey, I didn't know you were sleeping. I'm sorry. But do you know where the cottage cheese is?" I thought if I was standing up I would deck her, but I just said, "No, but I'm sure it's in the refrigerator somewhere." "Oh yes, of course, ok, I'll ask dad to see if he can find it..." as her voice trailed off while she wheeled herself away. She couldn't see I was sleeping? Well, the first clue was that my door was closed. The second clue was that I was lying prostrate on my bed with my CPAP machine hissing as it was blowing air in and out of my nose. So if I was sleeping, she would make sure I wasn't by the time she was done.
She not only woke me up, but then she took Kita with her, which irritated me. She had told me some guy was coming over to check the fire alarms and so she had to "put Kita on her lap so she wouldn't bark at the guy." I told her I would just bring her in my room and keep her in there until the guy left. She "preferred" taking the dog out of my room, after waking me up, and keeping Kita on her lap to show everyone that she doesn't bark at all when she's on her lap. I got up from the bed and kind of slammed my door because if that guy was walking around the house, I didn't want him coming into my room as I'm lying in bed. For some unknown reason, my mom didn't close the door after she took Kita.
I fell asleep, thus forgetting all about Kita, the guy or my mom, until I heard Kita's little wimper as she stood outside my door. She wanted to come in to be with me, of course, as my mom went to take her nap. So I got up, brought Kita in and muttered some unmentionable things.
My mom has taken a real liking to Kita, which is good and weird at the same time. She says to me, "Sis - watch," and she "drives" her wheelchair over to the chair Kita is perched on, and Kita gets on her lap, which she calls a train. "Let's go for a ride now Kita, on this train, down the tracks, blah, blah, blah..." I think it's cute that Kita knows to get on her lap from the chair, but I think part of my mom is acting like a kid in a carnival. It's kind of weird. But Kita is good company for my mom and I'm glad she is attached to her.
My mom's memory is deteriorating fast, which is really distressing. One day, she yelled at me for asking her to do something in the kitchen. I just sat there because I was stunned and she laughed it off like it was supposed to be funny, but it wasn't. I think she may even be aware of her personality changing, but her memory is so bad, she won't remember.
When I was making dinner tonight, I said, "Mom, look - the cottage cheese is right here on the top shelf." She said, "Oh yes, honey, I did find it." I'm glad she did. I wouldn't want her to be without her cottage cheese.
She not only woke me up, but then she took Kita with her, which irritated me. She had told me some guy was coming over to check the fire alarms and so she had to "put Kita on her lap so she wouldn't bark at the guy." I told her I would just bring her in my room and keep her in there until the guy left. She "preferred" taking the dog out of my room, after waking me up, and keeping Kita on her lap to show everyone that she doesn't bark at all when she's on her lap. I got up from the bed and kind of slammed my door because if that guy was walking around the house, I didn't want him coming into my room as I'm lying in bed. For some unknown reason, my mom didn't close the door after she took Kita.
I fell asleep, thus forgetting all about Kita, the guy or my mom, until I heard Kita's little wimper as she stood outside my door. She wanted to come in to be with me, of course, as my mom went to take her nap. So I got up, brought Kita in and muttered some unmentionable things.
My mom has taken a real liking to Kita, which is good and weird at the same time. She says to me, "Sis - watch," and she "drives" her wheelchair over to the chair Kita is perched on, and Kita gets on her lap, which she calls a train. "Let's go for a ride now Kita, on this train, down the tracks, blah, blah, blah..." I think it's cute that Kita knows to get on her lap from the chair, but I think part of my mom is acting like a kid in a carnival. It's kind of weird. But Kita is good company for my mom and I'm glad she is attached to her.
My mom's memory is deteriorating fast, which is really distressing. One day, she yelled at me for asking her to do something in the kitchen. I just sat there because I was stunned and she laughed it off like it was supposed to be funny, but it wasn't. I think she may even be aware of her personality changing, but her memory is so bad, she won't remember.
When I was making dinner tonight, I said, "Mom, look - the cottage cheese is right here on the top shelf." She said, "Oh yes, honey, I did find it." I'm glad she did. I wouldn't want her to be without her cottage cheese.
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