Milecular math.

We are in route to Florida for round two of the digging out. 

We have perfected our style. Just like Posh Spice, we have our custom outfits and all the right accessories. Really, it is more like the Beverly Hillbillies but with perkier breasts.  We have only been flagged down by one trucker thus far.  It was because our tie downs were flapping in the wind from the back of the heaping mound.  We stopped, repositioned and moved on.

Mother has been pretty patient.  She has a posh seat in the front of the truck while the two with the longest legs are folded up in the back set of the truck.  It’s fine.  But by the time we make it to Florida I may need hip surgery too.

Mother has planned her days over the last couple of weeks by gauging when the next meal will be served.  Fine.  Not a problem.  We have provided, amply I must add, quality meals every day that she did not have to prepare.  As we drove south she began to salivate at the prospect of stopping in Macon as we did on our last trip.  She diligently looked for billboards and road signs that would let her know that Macon was just around the bend.  Then we zoomed past Macon.  No time to stop.  We are just hitting our stride.

Not stopping caused mutiny on the bounty.  Mother quickly sent an email from her BlackBerry to all of her friends letting them know that she had been taken hostage by vegetarians who won’t stop to let her eat or use the facilities. If life was only so rough. 

She quickly dug into the cashews that she stowed aboard for her journey.  And the candied ginger. And the salt and vinegar chips.  She consumed these in rotation, all the while yearning for Macon.  Mother continued to explain how there are no places to eat south of Macon all the way into Florida, maybe not even until we get to Tampa.  I let her know that she could gnaw on her arm for a while and then get back to her rotation of snack foods.

We figured that Valdosta was too far to wait for food and began to calculate our distance.  Noting the exit numbers as we went along, we talked about where we could stop.  Mother was sure to give her input and let us know that she couldn’t make it that many exits. 

“Nine exits is just too far.”

“It’s not nine exits, it’s just nine miles.”

“No, it’s nine exits.”

“Really?  OK.  So let me explain good ‘ole highway exit numbering thing to you. The exit number is the mile marker.  Just like that.  Simple. We only need to go nine miles.”

“No, it’s nine exits.”

“Surely with all of the news that you watch you would have learned this by now.  I know you haven’t driven in a couple of years but this is a basic math issue.  There is no law that every number has to have an exit.”

As we went from exit 71 right on past exit 69 I explained to her that there was no exit 70.  That simple. She was just baffled. She didn’t comprehend that there wasn’t a requirement for an exit 70.  Quick call the road police and let them know that someone stole exit 70.

We did end up stopping for food at exit 62.  We should have just stopped in Macon. It would have tasted better, but we might have missed out on the math lesson.

Our little Mexican fiesta dog.

Peanut is officially six-years old today.  Wow.  Time has flown by.  She has aged just a bit since she was a young pup with a practically non-existent nose.  I have aged ever so slightly, like cheese but better, and her nose has grown like Pinocchio.

When I got her she fit into the palm of my hand.  I can still fit her into the palm of my hand but she completely spills out of it and falls to the floor.  It isn’t exactly the same. She is sweet as can be with the worst smelling breath EVER.  Not everything is perfect.

Happy Birthday to The Nuttster!

xoxo

Like an onion.

The whole challenge that we are facing right now with Mother is so complex and deep.  I feel like there is a large, if not total, disconnect on her part with the brevity and the reality of the situation.  I am still working on wrapping my brain around the wealth of dysfunction; and it is taxing for sure.  And if I am sorta in my right mind, how does this affect someone who is not in their right mind?

I want it all fixed right now and I know that is not going to happen.  I at least want to see and feel some progress in getting Mother back on track but we are really at the baby step phase when it comes to handling the behaviors that brought her to today.

I am not a therapist.  She will not be able to build a relationship with a therapist for a while as she is scheduled for her hip surgery.  I am talking to her doctor’s to gain their partnership in her recovery. I really feel that it will be a long road to recovery and I want Mother to do the work to get herself back to being whole.  She deserves it and so do the rest of us. 

I want to get her started on peeling back the layers to really see what is inside her brain.  She is disconnected and we want her in our lives.

We have babies.

I know it might have seemed like I was complaining about all of the wildlife that we have on the property since I was abruptly jostled from the bed two days in a row.  I am not complaining about their presence so much, just the time of day they decide to make their presence known.

I am proud to say that we have babies.  We have some blue birds that are nesting under one of the second story decks.  Nicole heard the cry of their babies over the weekend and it was a wonderful sound to hear. 

Last year we had a nest of eggs in the rose bush and a “wind event” came through and blew the nest right out of the bush.  The eggs crashed to the ground and were a bit cracked.  We saved the nest and the eggs and put it back in place for the mother bird but none of the eggs hatched.  It was great to hear their little peeping sounds and know that their new,  studier nest location was a wise choice. 

Perhaps now we will consider forgiving the momma bird for first nesting in the lid of the BBQ grill and the daddy bird for pooping EVERYWHERE while he attached his own reflection in the windows. 

The circle of life can be messy.

A strong wind is a blowin’.

So the weather forecast says “there will be a damaging wind event happening today.”  Not a tornado.  Not a down-burst.  A damaging wind event.

This is apparently forecaster speak for “bring your crap inside ’cause if it blows away your insurance isn’t gonna pay for it.”

What the future holds.

I have told my mother for a good 15 years or so that she needs to be nice to me because I will be the one who will be wiping her drool when she is old.  She would laugh.  I would laugh. But I knew it would be true.

This is all kinda like wiping the drool.  But not quite as easy.

At least the font can be made larger.

I ordered a BlackBerry for Mother.  It is time to bring her to the dark side.  Besides, it will give her something else to do instead of  knitting hats for the children. 

Better yet, she will be able to Google a new hat pattern and whip it right up off of her BlackBerry.  Saves the paper that we would have to recycle in the very near future, if history repeats itself.  Technology at its finest.

Sleeping late in the country.

Sleeping late in the country is an oxymoron. The country is where it is all happenin’ and no one sleeps late. There is stuff to do.

But I love to sleep late. By late, I mean something that isn’t around 5-6 AM and somewhere around 8-9 AM.  We have earned some sleeping late over the last few weeks. Sleeping late is a mandatory requirement that I look forward to every weekend.  I show up to work just so I can reward myself by sleeping late on the weekends.

For the second day in a row, I have been rushed out of the bed to experience the wild life in our yard. Yesterday it was a squirrel trying to get to the bird feeder.  It was funny, I will admit.  He was two stories up and the feeder hangs out over the edge of the deck, right above the ground, two stories below.  He was trying hard. Every time he was really close I think that he looked down and saw that the ground was two stories below and had his name written all over it.  He finally gave up and scurried away empty handed. 

Note – I have assigned a gender identity to the squirrel as “he” because a female squirrel would see the ground two stories below and outsource the task.

Good thing he hasn’t discovered the Fruit Cocktail Tree yet because I am only 2 lessons in to my How to Shoot a Squirrel Out of Your Fruit Tree classes.

And today I am startled from the warmth of the sheets to “come quick and see!”  I expect to see the squirrel working on his subcontracted outsource project.  Not today.  It was a HUGE wild turkey slowly making her way across the property.  Very nice. Quiet and graceful, but I still was rushed out of bed at an awful pace.

I am calling the printer now to see if the yard signs are ready.  I ordered ten of those signs you see at every stop light and exit ramp.  You know the ones. They are white with the bold red lettering.  They read “Attention Wildlife:  Do not make your presence known on this property before 9 AM.  Owner’s sleeping. “

I paid extra for the red lettering.

Routine and sunshine.

Our lives have been redirected for the time being with taking care of Mother and sorting out all of the stuff that needs to be done with our house, and now her house.  There is just so much to do.  We are so lucky and grateful that we have a house and space but it does feel overwhelming.

We took a bit of  a detour today to take Mother out on the town.  We served hot breakfast, as promised earlier in the week.  Then we headed south to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens to see the sights.  It couldn’t have been a more perfect day to go for a visit. 

It was the first full day of Moore in America.  It is an exhibit featuring works of Henry Moore.  It was also the grand opening of their new parking garage and main entrance.  It was all very well done and it was great to show Mother one of our favorite places in the city.   I think she enjoyed it; except for the bad hip, cane/walker, walking part.  Her favorite part?  The complimentary Coke products that were being served.  Like an addict getting their methadone, she was grinning from ear to ear.

Then we took Mother to Trader Joe’s.  It was her inaugural launch as they don’t have TJ’s in her neck of the woods.  Shame, I say.  She enjoyed TJ’s and even got a souvenir shopping bag. She said she needed it to put some stuff in it.  Uh huh.

And of course we topped off all of the hard work of walking, looking and shopping with a yum-o feast of veggie fajitas at Uncle Julio’s.  Way better than watching some horse race on TV.  That is what TiVo is for.

She went willingly.

And I didn’t.  I wasn’t prepared for what I would see, smell and experience. It was dramatically worse than what I thought I was ready for.  No one is ready for this.  At least not anyone I have met yet.

I went with love in my heart.  I knew what I had to do. What I wanted to do. I wanted to fix it and make it right. Help to make her whole.  But I know I can only do so much.  I can change the look of a house, but Mother will have to change the way she sees her life and herself.

She was there, almost like she was waiting for some kind of rescue.  I am no prince on a white horse but you would have thought I was even if  for just a fleeting moment.  She cried. I cried. She agreed to leave the house and let me help her. 

I scanned the room looking for something for Mother to wear.  The closet had a few things still hanging it it.  She was worried about taking a shower and I reassured her that she would be able to take a really nice, hot shower once I got her to the hotel. As I pointed to the clothes hanging in the closet,  I thought about how she must feel.  I kept the pace going knowing that Nicole was waiting for us outside.  And for fear that she might change her mind about leaving.

“What about that?” I asked.  “That doesn’t fit me.”

“What about that?” I asked again.  “Nah, not the right outfit.”

“What about that?” I repeated.  “It would need to be ironed.”

“Seriously?  You have much bigger fucking issues than to worry about if your shirt is ironed or not.”

We pieced an acceptable outfit together and headed out the door. 

I have never felt such a great feeling of fresh air and sunshine on my face.  I don’t know how she lives here.