An Impromptu Move

Well the father-in-law that fell down his steps and remained there for 27 hours until we found him back in January is finally moving here to our hometown to an assisted living facility. We will be picking him up from his current skilled nursing facility on Friday the 13th. Now, being the somewhat pessimistic person that I am, and having had other questionable experiences on Friday the 13th's I have to wonder what will happen to screw this whole thing up. Not to mention that everywhere I seem to look I keep seeing 666. What's up with that?

But we decided to make it a bit easier on him and go down today to bring back his furniture that he has decided he will want in his new assisted living apartment. Without him being along. Which isn't much because they are small. But enough that we need to break it up over a few days. Since it will just be my husband and I we need to make it as easy as possible on us and him. We rented a covered trailer this morning because it was pouring down rain and by early afternoon we had it hooked to our Dodge Ram and towing it to Liberty. We were reminded fairly quickly why we don't tow large trailers anymore. It was causing the transmission to overheat so frequent stops to cool it off became necessary. And now that it's over we think the transmission has been compromised.

We loaded his bed, his chest of drawers, a night stand, a love seat, his favorite recliner and last but definitely the worst, his giant, big screened TV. Which I helped get the majority of this out the door and into the trailer. And I'm an old woman with a bad back. However my husband knows ways to help make it a bit easier but when it was all said and done and we were headed back home I still felt like I had died, or wished I had died. Oye! The agony...

When we pick him up on Friday we'll go back to the house and spend the night. Since it may be the last time he'll ever be in that house I'll have to use the opportunity to question him about different items in the house and query on their worth or lack thereof. That should take all evening since he can barely get up the stairs with a walker. I think we'll start on ground level, set him down and begin the story. When that level is done, we'll move on up. I'm expecting him to be sentimental and weepy because that's the way he's been since he fell. Hell I really don't know what to expect anymore. The man has totally proven me wrong on everything I said about him.

When he was half dead the day we found him, at the ER when they said most of his organs had shut down I said, "Hell he won't make it through the night." He did and I said, 'Hell he'll never leave the hospital." He did and went to a nursing home. He wasn't able to walk or get out of bed so I figured he'd be wheel chair bound. No again. He's up walking with a walker. Sometimes I think the fire that fuels him is his fear of what we might be doing to his house or his cars. It's that control factor. I'd be hard pressed to give it up myself. I guess I'll quit trying to predict what will happen to him. He's one tough ole bird. Although he has announced he wants to renew his drivers license so he can get out and drive. Now THAT must be stopped at all costs. He'll kill somebody else if he takes two tons of moving metal out and drives it. I'll have to figure out a way to sabotage that.

Rest In Peace Sweet Em One Year and Counting...

Today was the first year anniversary of Emily's death. In a way it seems like she's been gone forever and yet in another it doesn't seem as if a year has passed. And God we both miss her so damn much. She was one of those very special pets that you get in your life that are more human and perfect than maybe other pets you've had. She was that special dog. She came to us during the year of The Great Flood and when I got into trying my hand at webdesign, before I actually took classes on it, she was my first subject to write about. The Divine Miss Em.

Over the years she became my husbands traveling buddy and they became really close. The night she died he had left to take our son home. She came back to where I was sitting at the computer and sat very quietly and looked at me. She put her paw up on my leg and looked longingly into my eyes. I asked her if she needed to go outside. I remember the night was warm and breezy. She went out the door and off the deck, then turned around and stared at me, then slowly lay down. I knew what was wrong, she needed to die but she didn't want to go without Dwight being there.

Two weeks before she had been diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure. I went out and tried to coax her back up on the deck but she didn't have the steam to do it. I cursed my bad back because I couldn't pick her up myself and bring her in, she only weighed 33 pounds! I sat down beside her, she tried to crawl under the deck to die but I wouldn't let her go. I told her to just hang on I'd go get the phone to call Dwight. I ran inside and brought the phone back out and called him. 'You've got to get home NOW, Emily is dying and I think she's waiting on you."

I kept stroking her fur and telling her to hold on that her dad was coming home, just a few more minutes. I told her how much I loved her and I knew she couldn't stay any longer. In dog years she was over 90. Soon we heard the loud pipes of his truck and she looked up at me and I swear she had a look of relief in her eyes. In seconds he was at the back door, "Hey beautiful, you can't lay out here in the dirt, let's take you inside." He picked her up and brought her inside and put her down on the fireplace hearth where she liked to lay. As soon as he laid her down he heard something in her stomach that sounded like it popped, which is what makes us think she had an obstructed bowel or something similar. She took a deep breath and that was the end. As the air left her lungs, the light left her eyes. By now we're both on our stomachs with our faces in her fur crying. He asked, 'Is she gone?' I just nodded my head, "She's gone George, she's gone," in between sobs.

We laid there with our faces in her fur and cried for a solid hour and talked to her about her life and how much she had meant to us. I fell apart over my Afghan Hound when I lost him but I have never seen Dwight come so unglued over a particular dog. But they were tight, those two. Our Shih-Tzu's were there with us but it's funny how other animals will handle a death in the house. They become very quiet and respectful. The birds become still and the Foo's after coming over to Em and sniffing her and then us to let us know they were there, went right over and laid quietly off to the side but still available should we need them for support. Usually my Tzu's will be all over me when I'm crying, licking my tears, giving me kisses and doing this little ritual where they rub there bodies against mine and wiggle all over. Like they're trying to rub happiness back into my pores or absorb the unhappiness into theirs. Not this time. They hung back and mourned themselves. They simply adored The Divine Miss Em following her around and trying to emulate her. Sometimes much to her dismay.

We had to make the difficult decision to have her cremated rather than burying her. For two reasons; the first and foremost was we didn't want her rotting in the ground, the second was it's more difficult as we are older to dig those deep graves for our pets. I hate the thought of cremation but that's what we did. She remained on the hearth all night and the next day he put carpet in the bed of the truck, placed her on the tailgate and combed and preened her hair until she was perfect. It was as much for him as it was for her. I was gone, I didn't want to see her leave home for the last time. He then clipped the lavender bows from her hair to add to the hair we had clipped from her the night before to save. He covered her with a special cloth and took her to her vet who is also our friend. Dwight told Dan he didn't want anyone else but him to touch her or initiate the process or scoop out her ashes.

Two weeks before her death all the dogs had been to the groomers and dolled up for Easter and spring. Emily was done in lavender with bows and a bandanna. I took pictures of her but didn't get them developed until after she had died. The second picture I posted here brought a smile to my face and I had to chuckle at her. It looks as if she's grinning and at the same time the picture has an ethereal quality to it. It was like she was saying, 'It's okay mom, I'm having a blast now. See you soon."

And I can't wait to see her again too. I take comfort in the fact that much of my family is over in Spirit World and taking care of her until we get there. She loved to ride and she has my car windows all smeared with doggie nose prints that I can't bear to clean off. Forget that during the night when lights hit them I can barely see out the window. I thought that when a year had passed I'd be able to clean them, but I can't face that task yet. And the fireplace heart still has her tracks from dirty little feet on the tiles after a spring rain. We've been careful when washing carpets or cleaning for the holidays not to clean the hearth. Again I thought at the one year mark, but it's still not enough. And I still can't bear to go to the park, her favorite place, even to take the Foo-Foo's after all this time. I guess someday it will all be okay and not as painful. Or maybe I'll sell the car and the house without ever cleaning away those memories.

One Down....5 More To Go!

Yesterday this semester ended and I actually made it! I had my doubts about getting the last of the assignments in, but I persevered and sure enough..they got in. So it's one semester down and 5 more to go to a Bachelor's Degree. And..maybe not even 5, maybe only four, it depends on rescuing 3 lousy little credits from another school. But I'll do it, even if they are holding them hostage for $50. Which I might add is a rip-off from them, but that's another story I'm not getting into here. At least, not right now. I don't want to spoil my mood, which is good. And, trust me, we want to keep those good moods going in me.

Maybe I'll just update from other posts here since I'm not feeling anything witty or biting to write about. The nursing home saga I started here at the beginning of March is coming to a close, well at least the first chapter of it. Harold's been in a skilled facility having physical therapy every day to help him learn to walk with a walker. And he's a tough old bird. He continually proves me wrong. When he ended up in ER after falling down steps and lying there for 27 hours I thought he'd die in the hospital. He was the closest thing to death imaginable. Everything was giving out and he had that bone cancer to boot. So a couple of doses of chemo and dear old Humana made him leave the hospital because he was 'improving'. Off he went to the only nursing home they'd pay for, which was a hole and within three days they managed to tear down two weeks worth of fixing. Back to the hospital. Then to a skilled nursing facility which is where he's been for awhile now. I never thought he'd ever walk again.

I'll be damned! Then one day he was up walking with the assistance of a walker. Weeks worth of physical therapy actually paid off. The verdict came down: he's getting better so let's kick him out. So, now the assisted living facility. That would be up here where we live. Which is good, not so much city running. But, that means moving some of his home furniture to a small apartment here in a nursing home. April 13th has been deemed the day he must leave. Hmm....Jeez what a day to be doing something like that!

Last week the doctors discovered my mom has lung cancer. That was a diagnosis out of nowhere I didn't think would happen. Sort of like getting slapped with a giant invisible hand across the face when you least expected it. I have no idea where that will go, but I had two sisters die from lung cancer. It was awful to watch. I'm not looking forward to that again. But....that was 14 years ago I think they've improved treatments. And since I always see the glass half empty I'm expecting the worst.

Uhmm....Oh! I am so vindicated on this mouse saga! Again we smelled rotting little bodies only this time they were in the basement. Dear hubby goes down to search for them, only to find a nest of mom and her babies all curled up dead. In a way it was kind of sad, in another I'm friggin' happy about it because of all their mess they left behind. Little shits! So guess what he found in the nest with them? The DCon sacks! Remember I told you he laughed at me when I thought they took the bag too? Uhuh....well....they DID take the bags!! Two of them to be exact, right there in mom's little mouse home. I wanted to be all smug. I wanted to strut around the house with my chest puffed out. Men...they think they know EVERYTHING! But did I point that out to him?? No I kept my mouth shut and was all smug inside my brain. Damnit!

Maggie has been sick lately. I was relieved when the announcement of the tainted pet foods didn't include hers. Then they came out with the brand I was feeding her, Alpo. But..it was the food in gravy, which isn't what they get fed. That's when the puking started. I immediately threw it all away. Why take chances? Hell, that could be tainted too they just don't know it yet. I started cooking for them instead. She was still a little Puke Monster for a week. Finally I went to our vet and was telling him about it. He asked, "Well did you change foods?"

"Well yes, I started cooking for her but she's still sick."

He looks thoughtful, "What are you cooking for her?"

"Well, ground beef, peas, diced potatoes in mushroom sauce."

He's nodding his head and says, "How much did you make?"

"Oh I made a whole pot full to last, why?"

"Sounds delicious, do you have any left?"

I laughed at him. I told him I did but yesterday they got some of the Easter dinner.

He perks up, 'What was that?"

"Spiral cut ham with honey spiced glaze, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, rolls, sweet potatoes, why?"

Shakes his head practically in tears...."Damn, I wish I ate that good!"

What a funny man. I did ask him what dog food I would be safe giving and he told me he wouldn't use any of them right now. The lists change so fast he can't even keep up with them. "Keep cooking for them, it's safer." Isn't that a helluva note? You can't trust anybody anymore. Today it's dogs and cats with tainted food. How long before it's our food? What is the PROBLEM people??? At this rate my dogs will NEVER go back to dog food even if it's good in the future. Why should they? I'm cooking them homemade meals!

April Fools Day

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For other uses, see April Fool's Day (disambiguation).
April Fools' Day or All Fools' Day, though not a holiday in its own right, is a notable day celebrated in many countries on April 1. The day is marked by the commission of hoaxes and other practical jokes of varying sophistication on friends, enemies and neighbours, or sending them on fools' errands, the aim of which is to embarrass the gullible. In some countries, April Fools' jokes (also called "April Fools") are only made before noon on 1 April.[1] It is also widely celebrated on the Internet.

Contents [hide]
1 Origin
2 Hoaxes
2.1 Lirpa Loof
3 Well-known hoaxes
3.1 By radio stations
3.2 By television stations
3.3 By magazines and newspapers
3.4 By game shows
3.5 By websites
4 Lists of April Fool hoaxes
5 Side-effects of April Fools' Day
6 Other prank days in the world
7 Quotes about April Fools' Day
8 Trivia
9 See also
10 References
11 Notes
12 External links



[edit] Origin
The origin of this custom has been very much disputed. Many theories have been suggested. What seems certain is that it is in some way or other a relic of those once universal festivities held at the vernal equinox, which, beginning on old New Year's Day, the 25th of March, ended on the 2nd of April.

Chaucer's story, the Nun's Priest's Tale, written c.1400, takes place "thritty dayes and two" from the beginning of March, that is, 1 April; it is Chanticleer and the Fox, a story of two fools. Though the 1st of April appears to have been observed in Great Britain in antiquity as a general festival, it was apparently not until the beginning of the 18th century that the making of April-fools was a common custom. In Scotland the custom was known as "hunting the gowk," i.e. the cuckoo, and April-fools were "April-gowks," the cuckoo being there, as it is in many countries, a term of contempt.

It has been suggested that Europe derived its April-fooling from the French.[2] French and Dutch references from 1508 and 1539 respectively describe April Fools' Day jokes and the custom of making them on the first of April. France was one of the first nations to make January 1 officially New Year's Day (which was already celebrated by many), by decree of Charles IX. This was in 1564, even before the 1582 adoption of the Gregorian calendar (See Julian start of the year). Thus the New Year's gifts and visits of felicitation which had been the feature of the 1st of April became associated with the first day of January, and those who disliked or did not hear about the change were fair game for those wits who amused themselves by sending mock presents and paying calls of pretended ceremony on the 1st of April. In France the person fooled is known as poisson d'avril. This has been explained as arising from the fact that in April the sun quits the zodiacal sign of the fish. The French traditionally celebrated this holiday by placing dead fish on the backs of friends. Today the fish has been replaced with paper cut-out.

The Dutch celebrate the 1st of April for other reasons. In 1572, the Netherlands were ruled by Spain's King Philip II. Roaming the region were Dutch rebels who called themselves Geuzen, after the French "gueux", meaning beggars. On 1 April 1572, the Geuzen seized the small coastal town of Den Briel. This event was also the start of the general civil rising against the Spanish in other cities in the Netherlands. The Duke of Alba, commander of the Spanish army could not prevent the uprising. Bril is the Dutch word for glasses, so on 1 April, 1572, "Alba lost his glasses". Dutch people find this joke so hilarious they still commemorate the first of April.
[edit]

And if you want to know tons more info on April Fools Day here's the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_Fool's_Day

Levon

Levon Elton Fitzgerald

Our beloved Afghan Hound

December 2, 1974- December 28, 1987

Pity Party....Table of One...

Wednesday was not a good day. Not good at all. For some reason I was off on a tangent regarding my life in general. I was off kilter or something. Everything that's gone wrong lately or even from 25 years ago came spilling back into my head and holding it hostage. I was thinking about how I'd waited until the kids had grown and moved on for my life to begin. Or what I thought was a beginning when all along it already had. But I have felt like I wasn't carrying my load or working to my full potential. I was a stay at home mom with no skills. Only mothering skills and I worried constantly that I didn't have those. But I see now that I really did all along. People in the family would say, 'Donna, have you found a job yet?' And look at me with the "Church Lady expression "Could it be....SATAN?"

Well raising kids is a job that keeps me busy", I'd stammer out. "I keep pretty busy indeed."

"Yes but a job out side of the home." Apparently in their eyes other women were working AND raising children. Why was I such a deadbeat? Well three children under the age of 5 1/2 aren't raised by a deadbeat mom. But I sure felt like a failure.

But now there are parents to take care of and that's a handful. My hubby's dad who's in the nursing home and my mom who's become frail and sickly and needs to be driven to the city frequently to the better hospitals down there. And I also have a college paper due in a week and I feel blocked and fear I'll never get it written. Seems like since I turned 50 last year, a whole year ago, my body is breaking down and falling apart. My teeth are falling out, my eyes are going bad. And now we're looking at major changes, possibly.

So yes...I was a little distraught. Bitching to the heavens that I am not receiving any help from upstairs and did they abandon me in my time of need or what? Oh yes, that's right, I forgot that when I actually pray my prayers aren't answered. I was weepy and emotional and feeling extremely sorry for myself.

I'm just a sorry ass.

I always feel as if I haven't done enough, I'm not somebody and I need to be. I've gone down several paths that seem to drop off into a dead end. I was staring at my macaw, Rocky and thinking, 'He doesn't mind his life. He is happy with what he is. He spends his day playing with Rosie and with toys and doesn't long to be something different. He doesn't yearn to be outside where it's actually natural for him to be. He's comfortable in his own skin. So why can't I learn a lesson from him?

I went to lay down, usually that will take the dark mood away. But I laid there staring at the ceiling feeling mad and let down. Then I had a vision of being in a big restaurant waiting to be seated. I hear over the intercom, 'Pity Party of One...your table is ready." I had to laugh. At least somebody upstairs has a sense of humor.

Oh My...There's a Dog Under There!

The Foo-Foo Mutts, our Shih-Tzu's as Dwight calls them, went to see the groomer today and as I expected when they came back they were half again the size they were when they left. By the time she finished peeling the hair from their bods they have skinny little butts and stick legs. And for once you could tell they were actually dogs and not dust mops. But she dresses them up pretty cute to make up for their nakedness. Both have colorful spring bandannas and Maggie has matching bows for her ears, which Sandy hot glues to some of their hair and it works pretty good for several weeks. Their faces have a Schnauzer cut with the short ears and bushy beard around the mouth and nose. But that's the only place they have hair left. They were so bad, as I said before, but it's been too cold to have it done before now. And truth be told, it probably wasn't a good idea to do it this soon but I figured it was much better than in January when they first really, really, needed it during the sub zero temps we were having. Now they just curl up in tiny balls and lay as close to one of us for body heat to keep them warm.

Dwight picked them up and was telling me later they got into the passenger side and curled up around each other until they looked like one big blob of dog. Their brown eyes were big as prize shooting marbles and proceeded to just stare at him all the way home. I'm sure he snickered and pointed at them for awhile. They must have felt humiliated, sort of like when you dream you go to school without your clothes.

It must be quite an ordeal to become beautified at the doggie parlor because once home, after a bathroom break, cool drink of water and something to eat they crash somewhere and saw logs. They snore too.

Dwight says we all snore.

In stereo.

But I've got news for him...he snores pretty darn loud himself!

And I need to wrap this entry up because two naked dogs are begging and pleading for me to take them to bed so they can crawl under covers to get warm. Man what wussies!

Toby...Bearer of Gifts

I came in the door two days ago and there sat Toby in a perfect sitting position. I looked his way and said, "Hi Tobe, what's up?" Then I did a double take.

Both he and Maggie are set to go to the groomers a little later on today. Both are so hairy they look like the proverbial dust mop without the handle. So it was a bit hard to see what was hanging out of his mouth but I was pretty sure it was a tail of a......

Oh.

My.

God!

What have you got? He came over to me wagging his whole body, he was so proud of what he had found. A treasure especially for me. Or maybe he figured he slayed a dragon he certainly acted proud enough. He proceeded to drop his plunder at my feet. There lying lifeless on the floor was a limp, slightly soggy, black mouse. "EWWWW! Gross!" I started doing the 'ooh it's a mouse' dance across my kitchen floor yelling for Dwight to come see what Toby found!

Well of course he came rushing in; I mean who wouldn't at the sound of my shrieking. He looks calmly at the mouse says, "Oh good boy Toby, look what you found", as he's reaching down to pet him and actually put the poor animal at ease because with my shrieking and hopping around like a maniacal escapee from the mental ward the poor dog thought he'd done something wrong. He calmly picked it up and went to send him on the proverbial water slide to his burial in the city sewer.

He loves to show me up like that. But don't think I didn't note he used needle nose pliers and plucked him up by the tail.

******************************************************************************

Last night as I walked into my kitchen the wall of decomp hit my nostrils right about the area between the kitchen and dining room. Seriously, it was like an invisible wall. Now all day long I had been in and out of the kitchen and I'm sure the dead mouse had been bloating all that time. But it seems to reach a critical moment before the stink seems to begin to waft off of their decaying little bodies. And where was his chosen final resting place? Underneath our refrigerator of course. When Dwight came home he had to move the heavy appliance out once again (and it hasn't even been a week since the last time) and pick up his bloated, black little carcass and give him a burial in the sewer. What the mice find fascinating about the area under the fridge as a good place to die is beyond me. Unless it's warm from the fan blowing. And each time the fan came on it blew more of that fascinating odor known on CSI as decomp out into the air. At least he wasn't lying in 'dead guy juice' or in this case 'dead mouse juice.'

The DCon, I reported recently, that we laid all around the house is disappearing at an alarming rate. In each specially chosen area where the pets can't get it we have opened pouches and poured a little out. The mice have gone after it like it was a feast and even going into the bags to fetch more. But we've had to put more out and it keeps disappearing. So, where are the dead mice going to die? We know of the fridge, obviously. But they all aren't going there to die. You know what's going to happen don't you? I'm going to start smelling rotting, decaying corpses that I can't find to dispose of and we'll have to try to cover up the odor until the bodies dry up.
One night as I went in the laundry room to check on the rate of decline of those little green morsels our mice find yummy I discovered nary a pellet, crum or SACK! Perplexed I envisioned a giant rat, not mouse, running off with the nifty packet to show his family back at the proverbial nest. "Look honey at what I found!” This was rather disconcerting. Cautiously I called my hubby who was out of town. "Um, dear, the mice are eating the pellets like it's the best food in the house."

"Good, glad to hear it. It means the little bastards will begin dying!" he says with a deep throaty, muhaha ha ha kind of laugh.

"Yes", I said timidly, "but have you ever heard of them eating the packet too?"

Again more laughter only this was more of a delighted kind of glee reserved especially for me when he knows he has the perfect opening for me to look stupid. In between tears of hilarity he manages to get out, "no, I took the packet nitwit!"

I was glad he wasn't here to see me breathe a huge sigh of relief, which I did: away from the mouth piece. I was also glad he wasn't physically here or I might have killed him. Then CNN would be reporting from my location as police and news helicopters flew overhead trying to talk the crazy woman out peacefully. My friends would be gathered at the local cafe talking about how the furry little mice finally pushed me over the edge but my poor husband was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Pity the poor SOB.

One thing's for sure...I'm not coming out peacefully. I may have to blow my house up just to get rid of those goddamn mice!

Make God Laugh....Tell Him Your Plans...

This picture was taken almost 18 years ago when we made a move to our location now. And it was one of the happiest days of my life. It was on November 4, 1989 and fortunately for us the weather cooperated. This is our whole family posing by the real estate sign that said sold. We were first time homeowners and extremely excited about it too. I have this photo framed at my desk as a reminder of happier times in my life. I was sailing on cloud nine that day, sore from moving, by high none the less.

It was a major move for us. In fact it was life altering for everyone in the family. It meant leaving our hometown and all our family, including our friends, great neighbors, great doctors who were family friends and a good job. To taking a plunge from the big city to a small town and a new business and try to make it work. It meant uprooting our three kids from 7-11 years old from their schools, grandparents and cousins. It was a pretty emotional time but one I was really looking forward to. For me it was a much needed adventure in my life. And even though through the years we talked many times of selling everything and going back home we never did, we stuck it out and sometimes not for the better. Maybe we should have thrown the towel in years ago. And somewhere along the way Kansas City stopped being home and Chillicothe took its place. I'm not sure when that happened. Along the way most of the extended family members died and our hometown of Parkville changed dramatically. Even after the kids grew up and moved away we still talked about moving back but this time it was a lot less serious. Usually it was a passing comment during frustrated moments. Nothing really serious. But life has a way of pulling the rug out from under your best laid plans. Sometimes I think God just likes to fuck with me for a good laugh. I must be one of his preferred individuals for entertainment purposes. He and I are really going to have to sit down and have a nice long discussion when I go back home. What's that saying, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans'? Yep, that's the one.

We told him our plans, more than once I might add and he laughed so hard he created great thunderstorms in our life.

Dwight's mom died back in 2005 after being in a nursing home with Alzheimer's for four years. His dad is 86 years old and over the years since her death he's been on a steady decline. Each time we'd see him he'd make it a point to tell us he had been to the doctor and he was healthy and there wasn't a thing wrong with him. He look like he'd died, kept losing weight and couldn't walk very well but his mind was still pretty good. "I'm the picture of health!" he'd remind us. I kept thinking, "Jeez what doctor believes that?" In retrospect we see that he was afraid, if we knew, we'd stick him in a nursing home. And the irony of the situation is that now he really is in one. If we'd of known exactly how bad he was, steps might have been taken to get him help to stay in his own home longer. But that's not going to happen.

Back in late January he fell down the steps at his home and laid there for more than a day before we found him. I wrote about it in depth here as my very first post call Nursing Home Blues. So the saga of the nursing home still goes on. My husband and I usually take turns going down to the city to see him. The last time was Dwight's turn. And when he came home after two days he had made some major decisions. Some of those life changing decisions like we had made in 1989. I didn't even see this one coming and I'm usually the one that smells them coming or at least I get an inkling. Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I was blindsided.

We had talked on several occasions about what to do with Harold's home in Liberty but it was just between us as husband and wife. A few weeks after he'd gone into the hospital the neighbors would come over wanting to know if we would be selling the house That was when Harold was so bad we didn't think he'd make it out of the hospital alive. But he's been progressing each day and getting stronger. Not strong enough he will ever be able to live in that house again, but he is progressing just the same. Still we've discussed what to do with his house. Dwight came home and I was a bit surprised at what he had pretty much decided would need to be done while he was there alone surveying the situation. In other words he spent time wondering and then spent time in each room and area of the house. Determining what needs to go and what needs to stay and the minor repairs to be able to bring market value to that house.

The original plan was he would go back and work in the city. He'd been thinking of getting out of his line of work to some extent and possibly going back to his original job as they told him they would be having some openings when cooling season picked up along about May. His plan was to live in his dad's house through the week and I'd stay here, this way we'd keep both homes. At least as long as Harold was still alive.

Apparently after his last trip and talking with his dad he has suggested that the house may have to be sold. The POTENTIAL plan is to liquidate both homes. Ours and his dad's. Plus consolidating the two houses contents as much as possible. This means deciding what to keep from both homes and possibly buying another one. If he can get work at his old job his plan is to move as close to KC as possible. You cannot begin to fathom what a HUGE job this will be. And nothing in our life ever runs smoothly. It usually just crawls along until a change comes and then it picks up speed like a locomotion. That's what happened in 1989. All of a sudden it was a done deal and time to move.

I tried to prepare but I still wasn't ready for us to begin moving when the day came to move things. As I was in the basement preparing my birds to be moved my entire living room and dining room furniture disappeared. I walked upstairs to my bedroom and the only thing left was a chest and it left as I was standing there. For some reason this unnerved me. I felt as if I had lost all control. What control I felt I needed over that situation I don't know. I called my sister crying saying, "It's all flying out of the house! If you want to see us before we leave you better hurry down!" I felt like I'd never see all of my things again that somehow it would get lost between there and here. No matter how much you prepare and how organized you try to be you still have no clue where your crap is for months.

So the possibility is very real that all of a sudden I'll be leaving Chillicothe. Maybe not for many months but no matter when it happens, or if it happens, I won't be prepared. And I'll need to figure out what must go and how to get rid of it. I know I'm too old for a move that takes one or two days. AND I'm too unorganized. Not only do I need to decide what in my house needs to go I have to decide what must go in the other house. Then how to get rid of stuff, give away, garage sale or auction? That means repairs on the homes and then real estate agents. I hate listing my house with a realtor. Of course people come in to look and since I'm a really private person I always feel violated after they're gone. We've even talked about auctioning it off and being done with it just to avoid involving a realtor.

Actually I never expected to go back to the city. And maybe it won't work out that we do, but it is certainly looking like it right now. And it won't be quick, it will be a long drawn out affair. There is one thing about moving, it forces you to get rid of some of your crap. And we're pack rats. Plus his parents were also pack rats AND collectors. They collected things they erroneously thought would be worth money in the future. Not true. Plus they inherited another couples home and contents nearly 20 years ago which they integrated a lot of the contents of that house into their own. You can really have too much stuff. Then it becomes shit. Makes me think of George Carlin's act about your stuff and other peoples shit.

I'm probably making a mistake writing about this stuff too soon. But it's so overwhelming that writing about it is kind of like purging a bit. This way I have more mental room to ponder about it.

The News Is In: It's a GIRL!

Well Sharla, our oldest daughter who is just about 6 months pregnant has been waiting to find out the sex of her baby. And on Thursday the 22nd she finally found out. It is a girl! Exactly what she was hoping for as her first child and it has all its body parts. She decided to tell everyone in the family with a mass text message so no one could complain they weren't the first to know. Hmm....technology! The message went like this:

It's a girl. Has all it's parts. And is hairy just like Kevin. No, just kidding!

So now Dwight is telling everyone that she's having a hairy girl. I felt justified because I had made the daring prediction with my trusty pendulum that it was a girl about two months ago. I guess I had a 50% chance of being right huh? Or wrong.

She had said that when she found out for sure she was going to compile a list of names and then decide. But when I asked her this evening if she had decided she said she would wait until the baby was born and she actually saw her. Which is a good idea. We had planned on naming our second daughter Angela. When she was born and I saw her I knew immediately her name should be Katie. I shocked my husband when I said as they were rolling me out of delivery, 'We need to name her Katie. She just looks like one!' I think he thought I was drugged and delirious.

Well, whatever a 'Katie' looks like....??? Still I think it's a good idea. I've heard it said that the soul of a newborn whispers their name to you. I would never have believed that but something changed my mind the day that kid was born.

Now Sharla can go out and buy things specifically for a girl. In my day clothes were just kind of asexual because no one knew until birth what they were getting. Wow how times have changed. In a way not knowing gave you something to look forward to and it also gave you a chance to work through your feelings for each sex. I'm happy though, as I too was hoping for a girl. Katie has a little boy so Sharla's girl will balance it out. Her baby is due on Independence Day. A little fire cracker waiting to explode.

I Owe My Mother...

(This came across my email a few months ago. Whoever wrote it MUST have known my mother! So I immediately forwarded it to my sister who immediately wrote back with, 'Did you write this?' "Oh hell no! I'm not that creative but it DOES sound like MOM doesn't it?")

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE. "If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning."

2. My mother taught me RELIGION."You better pray that will come out of the carpet."

3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL."If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week!"

4. My mother taught me LOGIC."Because I said so, that's why!"

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC."If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you're not going to the store with me."

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT."Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident."

7. My mother taught me IRONY"Keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about."

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS."Shut your mouth and eat your supper."

9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!"

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA."You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone."

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER."This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it."

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY."If I told you once, I've told you a million times. Don't exaggerate!"

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION."Stop acting like your father!"

15. My mother taught me about ENVY."There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don't have wonderful parents like you do."

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION."Just wait until we get home."

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING."You are going to really get it when you get home!"

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE."If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they are going to freeze that way."

19. My mother taught me ESP."Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you are cold?"

20. My mother taught me HUMOR."When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me."

21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT."If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up."

22. My mother taught me GENETICS."You're just like your father."

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS."Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?"

24. My mother taught me WISDOM."When you get to be my age, you'll understand what I am saying."

25. And my favorite: My mother taught me about JUSTICE."One day you'll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!"

And it did come to pass....

These Aren't Mickey & Minnie Mouse I'm Battling!

Mice.

Usually people are battling them as it's getting cold when they come in looking for shelter and food. So why am I all of a sudden plagued by mice like it's the medieval days? Good question but I still don't know the answer. I just know that I've got a big mouse problem and it's gross. And growing.

I've been seeing their little calling cards laying around here and there throughout the winter. But living (sort of) out in the country I learned a long time ago that we would be getting visits from all kinds of unpleasant creatures. Such as those huge horrible spiders that I think they call wood spiders or tree spiders. I'm not sure about that but my grandmother told me that they come around when you live on a farm or have a lot of trees on your property. And since we live where the houses are spread far apart and there are woods surrounding us to some extent I learned quickly that we deal with spiders, snakes and mice. Not to mention the raccoons and opossums that wander onto your deck or rummage around in your trash cans looking for food. The first time I saw one of those spiders I about had heart failure at his size. His body was as big as or bigger than a quarter and that didn't include his hairy legs. My grandmother said, "Well step on him! You're bigger than he is!" My response was something like, "Are you kidding? What if he grabs my foot and twists it off?" So she goes stomping out there with her "grandmother" shoes and knocks him to the ground and plows her foot straight down on top of him with all her might. Spider innards went squirting out from each side of her foot as she gave me a disapproving look like, "You city people are such babies!"

We're not city people anymore! Now I deal with critters. So on Monday after dropping mom off at the grocery store for her 2 hour shopping trip (that is another story altogether) I came home to work on a paper for school. I opened my front door to be assaulted with Mice Smell! I wrinkled my nose and waved my hand back and forth in front of my face trying to dissipate the odor. "Oh My God! Where is that horrid smell coming from?" I call Dwight to report the offensive smell and he informs me that he smelled it too before leaving and discovered that a mouse must have crawled under the fridge and died. He further informs me that a few nights before he had heard the fan in the fridge make a clunking noise and something fell. Then Toby sat there with his head cocked staring at the refrigerator for a long while. He believes a mouse may have met his death in the fan and is now lying there bloating up and smelling like something the CSI team might investigate. Ah the smell of decomp.

Great. Just friggin' wonderful.

The night before we had bought new traps and baited them with cheese and sat them in the office, the kitchen and the living room. By morning we had emptied them and reset them again. Ah, the power of cheese! The little bastards have been on my desk rummaging around and shredding up precious pictures. I've been scanning them and have laid them aside not expecting mice to chew them up. Plus I have a room where I burn incense, light candles and just listen to music or meditate. It's got lots of pillows on the floor and some book shelves. The little shits have been on my bookshelves leaving their 'presents' for me. Wandering over my tarot bags making them smell "mousey". I feel so violated! So this is war. These aren't Mickey and Minnie Mouse. They must DIE!

I suggested Dwight bring up the older vacuum that has paper bags we can throw away afterwards. I use it downstairs to suck up bird seed and this way we can just toss it out. I heard him yell and come stumbling up the steps with it. "What in heavens name is wrong?"

"No less than 5 baby mice ran out of the vacuum just now. We're overrun with mice!" He was shocked and horrified.

Pulling out the fridge revealed an apparent mouse cemetery. Why we haven't smelled the little bastards after they died is beyond me. I don't even want to think we got used to the odor. I don't think that's it. I think the DCon we put out last year dried them up after they died before they could rot. Oh my God it was a disgusting mess. The back had to come off the refrigerator and a mouse nest removed. It took hours to clean it all up. While he did that I busied myself rearranging our bedroom. I really didn't want to participate in the mouse fiasco.

We decided we needed to pull a President Bush and order a Shock and Awe against the mouse population in our home. We set traps everywhere we could think of. Downstairs around the bird cages, traps got set. Some with cheese and some with peanut butter. They seem to like the seed the birds throw on the floor. I also set one in my "room" downstairs. It didn't take long, maybe overnight and the traps filled up. Snapping every few hours. We'd hear them snap and then laugh maniacally. The piles of DCon are rapidly disappearing. There isn't any point in going through and cleaning up after them until they're all gone. I'm amazed and disgusted at the same time at how many there are and we're still killing them.

Apparently they're coming in around the electrical feed through the conduit which seems to have separated. Then they run down through the electrical box and into the house. This particular piece of conduit cannot be gotten to without ripping off the deck. They seem to breed like rabbits. I thought it was bad last year when we seemed to be overwhelmed by ants but mice really take the cake. No pun intended.

If this doesn't get rid of them I may have to call General Norman Schwarzkopf and get some tips on winning this war. I'm just horrified.

Ebayer's Anonymous?

Help!! Do they have a recovery group for Ebayers? You know, like gamblers anonymous, or alcoholics anonymous? I can see it now: "Hi my name is Donna and I'm an Ebayer." (The people in the group will all nod their heads and mumble, "Hello Donna"....with that knowingness that only others who suffer the same affliction can provide. I will be standing there admitting that yes I did win the crystal parrot brooch that I bid on only to turn around and bid on another cool one I saw. You know you're hooked when you time your watch so you can be sure and rush home to your computer for the final minutes. Hell I even signed up to get a cell phone alert going-3 minutes before closing just in case I couldn't be there. At an additional 25 or 50 cents or more each time they do it. The final phone bill will tell the tale. That appears to be a new addition to the Ebay "experience" as they call it. NEVER have I ever sat breathlessly, continually refreshing the page, counting down the minutes and then seconds to see if the bid I put in at the last minute is going to be outdone. My heart was pounding, my breathing accelerated and my upper lip was perspiring. Notice I said perspiring rather than sweat. Ladies perspire, men sweat. FYI in case you didn't know. Aren't these classic signs of addiction? I understand that casino gamblers can call 1-all-bets-off and they will be banned from gambling in the big casinos. So I have come up with a number 1-800-no2-ebay। That should do it!

Anyway, back to my bid. I'm sitting there counting down the last seconds, in the last minute and finally it states YOU ARE THE WINNING BIDDER! I jumped up from my chair flinging my arms around & yelling "YES! I won!", knocking over my drink in the process (I have to drink out of mugs with lids because I'm such a klutz), then scaring the hell out of my Shih Tzu's with my outburst. Since that is behavior they rarely see they went running in terror from the room. Of course if I don't get that 12 step program for people hopelessly addicted to Ebay I might be scaring them a lot more in the future. Poor little darlings. I found them huddled under the dining room table shaking. I consoled them and explained it was all good news and got them excited and running around barking at me. It became a game then.

It seems that our weather here in Missouri has gone from the 30's & 40's to over 80 degrees today. And add to it the March winds blowing anything and everything into the next state. Forget about fixing your hair and dig out your shorts because this week those coats and boots hanging by the door aren't needed. Next week they might be but today they weren't. We are used to having several seasons of clothing laying out here in Misery..uh..Missouri. Tomorrow promises to be more of the high temperatures and blowing wind. This time I'm taking my mother to the city for a doctors appointment. I'll be transferring her off at my father-in-laws house to my sisters car and she will drive her over into Kansas City while I go back to the nursing home and check on Harold. Driving in the city makes me a total nervous wreck. Totally. People are just crazy when they drive. And most have no patience for people like me who don't know where they are going or are trying to find alternate routes at the last second because of road construction. I understand Missouri has the worst roads in the nation, or so I read somewhere. This does not surprise me. You can immediately tell when you've crossed the line over the Mighty Mo and into Kansas because the roads immediately turn smooth like you're riding on glass. Sometimes I just feel like Alice in Wonderland here. I won't even touch that area right now. Maybe another post.

Driving in the wind doesn't make it pleasant either. I have been stopped on windy days for suspicion of drunk driving. Seriously! I was in another vehicle that handled differently. I think the trooper thought I was weird, but he's not the first and won't be the last. I'll have to remember not to let anything else blow out of the car that I might have to chase across the parking lot again like my last visit to the Home/Prison. This time I'm not taking anything for Harold other than some new jogging suits, clean laundry and his beloved milk shake that he has made me promise to bring each time I visit. I guess nursing home food leaves a lot to be desired as does anything else in one.

Now that I think about it, I am going to have a load again. Maybe I need one of those wire baskets on wheels older people use. I mean, why not? Mom gave me her old walker, as she got a new one. She explained that "you never know when it might come in handy." I started to laugh at her and tell her, "I'm young! I don't need no stinking walker!" But then I remembered the times I've been laid up unable to walk, from back pain, only to use the furniture as a crutch or a stick or umbrella. Jeez age sneaks up on us! So maybe a wire basket on wheels is a good idea after all. I suppose in ten years or less I'll be driving a motorized scooter around town.

God just shoot me now.

More later.......

The Birthday Girl..uh...Woman...uh...Matron? Oh hell it's my birthday!

Well yesterday was my birthday and I guess it turned out to be pretty good after all. Usually it just goes by with a dinner later in the evening where I end up getting sick or something. I don't think we bothered with dinner last year.

I started celebrating at 4:55 a.m. this morning, when I was born, by going to Ebay and making a bid on some jewelry. I wasn't going to bid on anything. I was just going to go and see what certain types of collector items sold for. But somehow I found my way to the jewelry (my computer just did it on it's own it knows me so well) and saw a couple of pieces that I really, really wanted. I have an addictive personality and Ebay can be sooo addictive. Before I knew it I had bid on two different items. They really were a good deal. I swear. Do I need more jewelry? No I don't. Will I stop buying it for the remainder of my life? Probably not. Jewelry that sparkles is what catches my eye. Stand me in front of anything that sparkles in the jewelry aisle and I'll still be there 30 minutes later. Do I really have anywhere to wear jewelry that looks like it's for a prom or wedding? No, but that doesn't stop me from buying it. So before I knew it, I had bid.

I worked on a school paper for awhile and then went to bed. And when I got up it was sunny; so I took Maggie & Toby for a ride in the car. I reminded myself of my dad who used to say, "Donna, let's get in the car and go for a spin. See what's going on in the community." At which point, I'd drive and he'd direct me. We drove all over looking at the 'progress' the community was making. So I decided to drive out to where the new womens prison is being built. It's a big project that isn't scheduled to be done until sometime in 2008. They just recently started it, a few months ago I think. Of course, out and about with nothing to do calls for a stop at Sonic. 'Your ultimate drink stop!', as their slogan goes. Maggie loves to hang out the window while I order and wait for the car hop to bring whatever I've decided to get. She's always happy to see them, but they aren't always happy to see her. It's usually the younger kids who don't pay attention to her even though she's wagging her tail and trying everything to get their attention. The older ladies ooh and ahh over her, which is the highlight of her day. She also looks forward to going to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions too. We have a drive-thru window at our local pharmacy and she likes it because they give her and Toby treats. Her favorite are 'chicken grillers' from Wal-Mart.

Tonight Dwight and I went out for dinner. I decided to branch out from my everyday routine, or I should say yearly routine of going to the same restaurant for a birthday dinner. We have a new barbeque restaurant in town. We ordered an appetizer of something they called Onion Strings, which were onion rings that weren't rings but strings. Duh. Anyway our jaws went slack when the plate came. It was more like a turkey platter heaped high with these stringy things. It was stacked so high and so large that I looked at those greasy things and said, "Oh my God. That's a heart attack on a plate!" I love onion rings..or strings, whatever, but I blotted one of those on a napkin, practically filling the paper with grease and then ate it. I imagined the cholesterol surging through my body jamming up my main arteries as I ate. Somehow it took all the pleasure out of eating one. I told my husband if he ate all of those we'd be burying him next month or sooner. We asked for a large styrofoam box and crammed only half the platters contents in, there were so many. We'll never open that box again, it will become a science project in our fridge but you feel like since you paid $6 for it you really SHOULD take it home.

Next on the list were ribs for both of us. The meat was very tender and fell right from the bone but they were drenched in sauce that was so spicy to me it burned my lips and I couldn't eat them. I didn't think to order it on the side. So once again something went wrong at my birthday dinner. Each time we've gone for the last several years, something has happened, either with the food or with me. I guess I should stop going out to eat to celebrate. Maybe a nice trip to the movie theater next time.

All of my kids actually remembered my birthday this year. Even my youngest son who doesn't really keep up on that stuff. Except that his birthday is exactly two weeks to the day from mine. Anyhow, he calls me on his break from work to wish me a happy birthday. I told him I was 51 this year. There was this deafening silence on the end of the line and he said, 'Wow, fifty one?" with this tone of complete amazement mixed with an 'you're that old' type of response. "Wow, if you're that old, how old is dad?" I was caught off guard by this response and then I had to remember that when I was his age I thought I'd be dead by the time I was 30 because that was old!

Kids.....you gotta love 'em or you'd kill them on the spot.

The Votes Are In!

Well the votes are in on the license plates for Missouri and the blue bird won with over 50% of the vote! I am so happy and apparently I'm not the only one that thought the plates needed more color. It's just too bad we have to wait till 2009 for them. Hmmm...wonder if I can keep the old plates again like before? They make interesting conversation pieces. I've nailed mine to my Birdroom wall.

Update March 8, 2007: Ugh! I have just heard from Brad, a friend of mine, that they will be charging $20-$50 for the new plates over and above the usual rate. Or so the rumor goes. And since mine are personalized I, of course, pay a higher fee. This just pissed me off and made my day! It wasn't the general public who wanted new plates, it was some bureaucrat sitting in an office somewhere. Or however they decide they need new plates. Does someone just get a wild hair up their ass and say one day, "Gee I'm bored with these plates. I know, let's get new ones!" Supposedly these plates will be easier for law enforcement to read. Uhuh, give me a break. It will be harder for the renewal tabs to be stolen. Well we'll see. It occurred to me that the new plates will have that break in the middle, which I didn't realize would be there even though it's beaming at me in the picture. Why would they break up the word SAMPLE if it's not going to be done? It's okay for regular license numbers because they're usually divided up by three letters and then three numbers here in Missouri. Of course personalized are all one word unless you hyphenate it. Well is that gonna make my plate look retarded? Probably. I could let them go and go back to regular plates. Less revenue for DMV, but they'll never notice. It's not like they'll say, "Wow, we're short an extra $20 bucks because Donna let her vanity plates go. Damn, what will we do? We can't make the rent this month."

I've had that particular plate since about 1985 or maybe 1986. But a long time. I think people get used to seeing you driving around and they know you, even if they don't 'know' you per se. When I got a different car people I didn't know were honking at me. The only thing I could figure out was they were acknowledging that I now drive something different. May sound weird to some of you, but I live in a fairly small town and these things DO go on. I'll have to think about the new plate configuration and see how bad it looks. Maybe it won't be as bad as I imagine, but that's government for you. I really think that the old plates were fine. Somebody just decided we needed new ones to the tune of millions of dollars to redo the whole shebang. But of course it will be passed onto us, the unwilling consumer. Why not? After all we're probably going to get that nice National ID card before long anyway. Might as well go all the way and change it all. That national card is another story altogether.

Diary of a Yankee who's just moved to South Carolina

April 30th:
Charleston is fantastic! Just got here and love it already. Now this is a
state that knows how to live - beautiful sunny days and warm balmy evenings.
What a place! Watched the sunset from Waterfront park lying on a blanket.
It was beautiful. I've finally found my home. I love it here.

May 14th:
Really heating up. Got to 89 today. Not a problem, live in an air conditioned
home, drive an air conditioned car. What a pleasure to see the sun everyday
like this. I'm turning into a real sun worshiper.

June 5th:
Had the backyard landscaped with tropical plants today. Lots of palms and
rocks. What a breeze to maintain. No more mowing for me. NO MORE SHOVELING
SNOW EITHER! Another scorcher today, but I love it here.

July 1st:
The temperature hasn't been below 90 all week, not even at night. Where are
those ocean breezes we heard about, still seems hot. Getting used to it will
take a while, I guess. I sure miss my LP collection, though. I'll have to
remember not to leave anything made out of plastic in my car. Got one of
those fuzzy steering wheel covers. Cheaper than the burn ointment for my
hands. I always wondered what burnt flesh smelled like.

July 15th:
Fell asleep on the beach. (Got 3rd degree burns over 60% of my body.) Missed
two days of work. What a dumb thing to do. I learned my lesson though: got to
respect the ol' sun in a climate like this.

July 20th:
I miss our cat, Tabby. He snuck into the car when I left this morning. By
the time I got out to the hot car for lunch, he'd swollen up to the size of a
shopping bag and just as I opened the door he exploded all over $2,000 worth
of leather upholstery. I told the kids he ran away. The car now smells like
Kibbles and poop. No more pets in this heat!

July 25th:
Ocean breezes, my ass. Hot is hot!! The home air conditioner is on the fritz
and AC repairman charged $200 just to drive by and tell me he needed to order
parts. Only hope for a break in the heat would be a hurricane.


July 30th:
Been sleeping outside by the pool for three nights now. Swatting the swamp
mosquitoes that are as big as B-52's. $1,500 in darn house payment and we
can't even go inside. Why did I ever come here?

Aug.4th
100 degrees today. Finally got the air conditioner fixed today. It cost $500
and gets the temperature down to about 90. The electric bill is almost as
much as the house payment. And two SUV lady drivers almost ran me off the
road. I hate this state.

Aug 8th:
If another jerk cracks, "Hot enough for you today?" I'm going to tear his
head off. Damn heat. By the time I get to work the radiator is boiling over,
my clothes are soaking wet, and I smell like roasted Garfield!!

Aug. 10th:
The weather report might as well be a damn recording: Hot and sunny.
It's been too hot for two #@*& months and the weatherman says it might
REALLY warm up next week. And who came up with the statement "it may
be hot, but at least you don't have to shovel it" should die from heat exhaustion.

Aug. 14th:
Welcome to Hell!!! Temperature got to 102 today. Forgot to crack the
window and blew the windshield out of the Lincoln. The installer came to fix
it and said, "Hot enough for you today?" My wife had to spend the $1,500
house payment to bail me out of jail.

Aug. 30th:
Worst day of the summer. I'm not leaving the house. The monsoon rains
finally came and all they did is to make it muggier than hell and drove the
damned roaches out of the ground. I wasn't aware they could fly! The Lincoln
is now floating somewhere in the Atlantic with its new $500 windshield.

That does it, we're moving back to New York where all you have to
worry about is getting mugged, I hope this state breaks in half and floats
down to Georgia!

~Unknown~

New Missouri License Plates

Missouri is currently choosing a new license plate. They've been having a voting session open since February 9th ending tonight at midnight. Why we have to have new license plates to the tune of millions of dollars is just beyond me. Well according to the site it's to reduce tab theft and make the plates easier to read. The selections aren't much different than the plates we already have which came out in 1996. But there is this bluebird plates which is quite different from what we've got. The other two are plain white backgrounds with one having a ribbon trailing through MISSOURI. The other is a reflection of MISSOURI. Had the picture editor here cooperated with me, I would have posted the other two.

Of course being a 'bird' person I'm for the bluebird plate. Sometimes I see other vehicles from outer lying states and they have some pretty cool ones. Ours just seem drab and colorless. I'm hoping the bluebird gets it, at least it's showing one of our states symbols. Of course I have a private agenda for the bluebird plate. I think my vanity plates will look good on it since my plates have to do with birds anyway. We have come a long way from our original maroon plates with white lettering. The vanity plates back then were just as bad: black with yellow lettering. That made your vanity plates really stand out in traffic. The 'new' ones in '96 were the same for regular or personalized so you all basically blend in the same.

I can't wait to see which ones win but since it's government I'm sure it will take a month or more for them to tally up votes that are probably computerized anyway. The plates won't be issued until January 1, 2009. That seems like a long time away but the way time is flying lately I suppose it will be here before you know it. Law requires the state slogan be on the plates, which for Missouri is The Show Me State. And believe me, people here live by that slogan. We all must be shown something before we'll believe it. Maybe Missouri has energy vibes that just soak into you the more you live here making you say, "Oh yea? SHOW me!"

Nursing Home Blues

Since my hubby is busy installing a new HVAC system and trying to take care of all the no-heat calls coming into our business right now he isn't able to get away to visit his dad in his 'latest' nursing home (what a fiasco). So since Harold (father-in-law) wanted some jogging suits purchased for him and his razor brought to him it was left to me to make a run to KC on Friday to deliver the items to him. I didn't mind, it gave me time to make the hour and a half drive and listen to Caroline Myss's CD's on chakra's and the energy system at work within the body. Since my latest paper for school is on chakra's I figured I'd be killing two birds with one stone.

The drive down was sunny but frigid and cold for a March day. But true to this month and the 'windy days of March' we have had windy days for several days now. The wind gusts will knock you off your feet and the windchimes out front are slamming into the house with each gust Mother Nature blows. I actually saw one of my plastic trash cans go racing by the front window the other day. "Hmmm," I thought, "I do believe that's our barrel leaving home. Thar she blows." I had bigger fish to fry rather than chasing the barrel up the street. Such as being sure the storm door wasn't blown out of my hand and broken or bent. "Gee Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!" Remembering not to pop the automatic trunk lid without holding onto it and not throwing my car door open so the wind could snatch it up and slam it into someone else's car. I was cautioned by my better half on guarding against these possible problems. "Yes Dear I'll try to remember that." (rolling my eyes)

So I decided to take my Foo-Foo Mutts, as Dwight likes to call them. That would be our Shih-Tzu's: Maggie and Toby. They were following me around watching me pack everything I thought I'd need. Picking up on the fact that I was going to be leaving soon. So they begin to turn on the charm and somehow make their big brown eyes look sad and imploring. 'Please take us along. We've been cooped up in the house for days on end. Look, we're so cute. Don't you feel sorry for us? We'd be good, we promise. Pleeeeeeeeeeezzzzze?" And, since I'm a huge pushover (and they know it) I rationalized taking them along as, 'Well Harold would probably like to see them. They could go in the nursing home, they allow pets. Besides if I don't take them I won't be able to live with them for two days after I return." Settled: They went. They were good as gold and laid quietly in the passengers seat and slept.

But when I got to Harold's house in Liberty I decided they should stay there while I went to the Home to visit. I was going to have my hands full carrying two shopping bags full of clothes, my purse, my coat, and a drink carrier with a shake for Harold and my usual Barq's Root Beer. Plus, you have to park in the lot, always the farthest spot away and walk a mile after you're inside. Or so it seems when you've got a load to carry. I decided I didn't need them tugging at the leashes and tangling up my feet in the process and making me fall. I've fallen enough these last two months. Twice down steps. Those two incidents would make humorous posts.

It turns out it was good they didn't go along. As I got out of the car with my arms full of sacks, drinks and my coat, his favorite hat fell out and of course the wind took it and blew it across the parking lot. So here I am, in heels no less, arms full, chasing his hat across the lot. Just as I'd get close to it and reach for it, the wind would snatch it up and carry it away again. Always just out of my reach. I began to think that I must look like Jamie Lee Curtis chasing the canned ham down the street in "Christmas With The Kranks." Finally I was able to take one of my heels and stomp on it. "Gotcha, you little son of a bitch!", I muttered. Out of breath I snatched it up and hot footed it across the lot and into the front door. Where I had to prove I wasn't a terrorist and do everything but strip down to my bra and panty hose. By now I'm beat and ready to go back home....

I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I arrived in his room. The big thing was I almost didn't recognize him. I had to back out and look at the room number to be sure I was in the right room. There in the recliner sat a very old looking man with his head resting on his hand sleeping soundly. I decided to wake him. 'Harold?", I said taking my coat off and putting the bags on the table. "I'm here and I brought you some things, plus a vanilla milk shake." He looked up at me and acknowledged my presence. But it was a minute or so before he said, "Oh Donna! It's you!"

"Yep, it's me, in all my glorious form! Dwight couldn't come and I knew you wanted some clothes and your razor. Here, I stopped and got you a shake." I stuck the straw in it and gave it to him. His bony fingers reached up for the styrofoam cup. In between sips he kept telling me how good it tasted and how he hoped the staff didn't catch him with it. I explained to him it was okay for him to have it but I wasn't getting through to him. Maybe the thought of forbidden fruit made it taste that much sweeter.

He's been very emotional since his wife of 50 plus years went into a nursing home with Alzheimers in 2001 and passed on in 2005. But he's extremely emotional now. It seems anything can set him off on a torrent of tears. But according to my family it's only that bad around me. They informed me the other day, good naturedly, that I seem to have that effect on people. 'You know, people just feel like they can open up around you and confide in you." I guess that's a good trait, although I don't know what to do for him when he starts crying like that so I just sit with him and hold his hand or just be quiet and wait. Usually he regains his composer quickly but I've noticed lately that it's becoming harder for him to gain control. I've never run into any male that cries as freely as Harold does. Maybe it's because he's a Pisces, like me and we're emotional people. Maybe his parents never chastised him with real men don't cry. I have no idea, I just know I make him cry. And all I have to do is be present.

"I brought your razor Harold. I heard you wanted it and Dwight told me, if I left home without it, I might as well t urn around and go back home or I'd be in trouble." I gave it to him and he held it lovingly. Stroking the case it was in and opening it up, he began to cry again. "Here let me plug it in for you." I was thinking that I could take his mind off his tears and it worked. I plugged it in and he wanted help to get to the mirror to shave. He can only stand and no longer walk so I showed him that his bedside tray has a mirror in it which can be opened and he can sit and shave. I situated him and opened the mirror. He looked into it and saw himself for the first time in two months. He began to cry again at his image.

I'm thinking, 'Good job Donna! What else can you do to top this?"

Harold hasn't seen himself since he's lost 20 pounds and his hair has fallen out from chemo. He ran his bony fingers along his thinning hair and as he cried he said, 'My hair is falling out!" About that time my cell phone rang and it was my daughter. I used the opportunity to move out of the room to talk to her and give him a chance to come to terms with his changing body. After all there's nothing I can say to him to fix it. I tried to place myself in his shoes and decided that I'd just need some alone time to process it all.

A little more than a month ago we had gotten a call from the people who had delivered his meals every day saying that he didn't come to the door that day. Knowing that he planned his whole day around his noon time meal we knew something was wrong. For the last several months we'd seen a decline in his ability to talk and get around. He was also growing a large tumor on his collar bone that was pushing it's way into his voice box causing him to barely be able to speak. We made the hour and a half trip to his house to find him lying at the base of his stairs, face down, half dressed and looking dead. I honestly thought when I saw him he was gone, but miraculously he raised his head and moaned. Turns out he'd been there for more than 24 hours. He had fallen the day before as he stood up to answer the door for his meal. But that driver didn't notify anyone that he didn't come to the door and if it hadn't been for the second driver calling we'd have not found him until it was too late. How he managed to fall down steps, in a chair no less and not break anything was miraculous.

But with all the tests they did on him they discovered he had bone cancer and the tumor on his collar bone was a malignant outgrowth of that condition. Not only that, his kidneys were functioning at 1/2oth of their normal ability, probably from his deteriorating muscles and the toxins they were putting off or so the doctors believed at the time. They believe he also has Parkinson's Disease. Even Harold doesn't know this, why tell him? To me it seemed bleak and his quality of life, should he live, would be very limited. They informed us that without chemo he would die within two weeks. We weighed that situation and wondered if life would be worth living after the cancer was in remission. 'Oh we can get him back to the way he was four months ago." We decided to go on with the cancer treatment. After all, if we didn't do it, later we might wonder if we'd done everything we should have done. So he received his first dose of chemo and within two days he was awake and talking and knowing what was going on. Then his insurance company decided to boot him out of the hospital. He had taken out Humana in place of his Medicare coverage. Something that Humana is selling to a lot of senior citizens because they cover their drugs whereas Medicare does not. So many seniors, including Harold, think they are covered under anything. But Humana was refusing to let him stay in the hospital and refusing any nursing home except one.

That nursing home is one of the worst, I think, in KC. He went there on a Friday and by Monday he was severely dehydrated, had staph infection and had fallen, bruising up the left side of his back. The home had managed to take the two weeks of improvement the hospital had done and undo all of it making him even worse than he was when he was first admitted, all in the span of about 3 days. They managed to do this by ignoring him, not giving him his IV's he needed, nor helping him eat. He tried to get up and walk so he could find someone to tell them how thirsty he was, but of course he was too weak and fell from his wheelchair. Only then did they discover how sick he was and sent him back to the hospital. That was on a Monday. On Wednesday when we called they couldn't find him. Nobody had felt it necessary to tell us they sent him to a hospital. In fact, they weren't sure which hospital he was sent to. It was only when the hospital doctor called to update us did we know where he was.

The new place he is in now is much better but he can't stay there. His room fee's are more than $9,000 a month. Can you believe that? In the meantime we're trying to switch him back to Medicare but are waiting on Social Security to make this switch. Since it is the government, who knows how long we'll have to wait? My advice to anyone who has switched their Medicare over to these crooks should get busy immediately and switch it back to avoid these problems. Since Harold is a stubborn man and cheap to boot, he thought he was getting a royal deal for $10 a month.

I helped him try on the jogging suits we'd bought for him and he cried with each one he tried on. I helped him shave and then get into his wheelchair for dinner. They begin to get them in their chairs and down to the dining room around 4:30. Now, dinner doesn't seem to be until 5:30 or 6:00 but residents will go down early and sit at the tables and wait. Maybe they figure it's different scenery than their rooms. I wheeled Harold down there and as we walked in, there were people everywhere in wheelchairs sitting at tables waiting for dinner.

The thing that struck me the most was that no one was speaking to each other. It was totally quiet and each resident had a dead expression on their face. They all looked our direction as we went in and I smiled and greeted them as we passed but their expressions never changed. They didn't smile back or acknowledge they saw me in any way, shape or form. I wheeled him over to a table in the very back of the room that was empty. Once he was situated I hugged him goodbye and left again passing the others and smiling and speaking to them. Again nothing. It was like they were waiting and not necessarily for food. These people looked like they were waiting for something. Salvation? Release? Death?

And I left thinking, "It is possible to live too long. Once you've outlived your ability to lead a 'life' our time is over due. Way overdue if everyday you are just surviving."

Nursing homes are a last stop in the train ride of life. Next stop....Spirit World.