Major vent

• brother emailed me from out of town late yesterday and said mom gets discharged on march 11th
• he found out when he talked to her yesterday
• news to me
• lengthy conversation with gary last night about all of it
• had to calm myself since i thought we had an additional week--i was thinking she'd be out the 17th or so
• it's just a week early, but march will be BUSY
• that's likely the week we'll reschedule daisy's surgery
• don't like surprises like this, especially out of the blue
• mom called today to ask for a friend's phone number
• this particular friend of hers (honestly, an annoying person in my opinion....read:  controlling type), said she wanted to be available to take mom home when she gets out
• huh?
• mom tells me on the phone she wants this friend's number because she has something to tell her
• mom's gentleman friend saw mom today and said she needed to call her friend and share (the big mystery)
• my mother never lets on to me that she gets out on march 11th, sounding while she talked like a child who's keeping a secret---the very same tone---parents, you know the way they sound
• the thing is---she doesn't know my brother told me
• AND, gary still wants mom here
• re-do the dining room for her?
• actually, last night this sounded slightly sane to me--today, not so much
• friends/acquaintances who've done this advise against it
• gary wants her to come here directly from rehab
• i want her to go to her house first, esp. since she's not been home since early november
• oh, and also, this brother initially told me on the phone this week that his wife/daughter will come early to get mom's house ready for her---not sure what that means, but okay
• then he'd be here when we go to joseph's graduation
• now he's backpedaled, and they'll all just be here for graduation week
• no help in moving her cable, have exterminator in, blah-blah-blah
• must talk to oldest brother, and discuss options---none good
• it's here and we've got to deal with it, no matter
• told gary having her in rehab has been sort of like the honeymoon period---now the real marriage takes place
• trying to make it a blessing in my heart, but all i can see is work---and a LOT of it
• just ate a whole pint of ben & jerry's chocolate fudge brownie ice cream---apparently that's my coping strategy--carefully now, or i'll end up being huge!

A much-needed restful day

Had a quiet day.  Stayed at home.  Had my tea this morning.  Tidied the kitchen.  Puttered around.  Loaded apps on Gary's hand-me-down phone he gave me.  Android.  Good stuff.  Had school with kids.  Rested.  Avoided thinking about things that go on outside our little house.  Fed chickens.  Figured out how to burn the Frankincense I bought at the hippie store---smells just like church in our living room. Delish.  Planning on making a tiny bit of an altar in my corner of the bedroom.  Maybe tomorrow.  A place of my own. Made homemade mac and cheese for dinner.  Now resting in bed. A restoring day.

Must repeat same tomorrow.

Change of plans...

Here it was, thinking Daisy's cough would stay at bay long enough for her to get the bladder surgery, but I was to be proved wrong.  She was better yesterday, and I had the passing notion to call the vet and cancel just in case, but didn't.  Got up today and she coughed up a storm.  Took her in anyway at 7:30am and the vet said her cough sounded pretty rough and he'd get her some medicine, and no, we'd have to hold off on the surgery.  I probably went over the top in apologizing, realizing he'd prepared his morning for her surgery, but Gary told me he's likely prepared anyway for emergencies. Still, I felt like a heel.  If there's one thing I hate is putting folks out.  Anyway, enough groveling----we came home with an antibiotic and some sort of steroid and she's sleeping now. Should do the trick.  And the funny thing, we can't take her back for 2 weeks, since that's the course of her antibiotic.

So...I have a breather, at least in terms of Daisy.

"Man proposes and God disposes." Wise words.

On the heel of "What's the chief end of man?"  Answer:  "To glorify God and enjoy Him forever."

I was always good about teaching our kids the Westminster Catechism when we were members at the Reformed Presbyterian church.  I loved the words and the memory work.  And on days like today when I thought I had the day all figured out, hour by hour, it's curious when plans go awry.  Almost refreshing somehow.  The day spills out ahead of me with no responsibilities except the ones staring me in the face here at home.

And being that I was a bit strung out after my running around yesterday afternoon, it's good to be stuck with nothing begging for attention.  I feel like I can breathe.  And I will. Starting now.

Week's beginning

As soon as we'd just about finished our schoolwork this afternoon, one of my brothers called (the one out of town) to touch base about my mom.  I'd shared with both of my brothers about Joseph graduating from Basic Training next month, and said we'd need someone to stay with Mom.  We talked about that and other mom-related stuff.  Good to be in touch, but doesn't really solve anything.  Gary listened to me share about our conversation this evening and just shook his head.  Unfortunately this brother is good at saying what you want to hear, but a bit lax in following through.

Not that I'm belly-aching.  I'm becoming resigned to certain things, so I guess that's a step in the right direction.

Now then---this week---Daisy the Pug has bladder stone surgery AGAIN tomorrow (Tuesday) early in the morning.  She had the same surgery two years ago, and Violet had it done in August of last year.  Dang.  I'll get her there at 7:30am, and the best part of the whole deal is the shot the vet gives her right away.  Rather than hearing her whine as we leave, she'll quickly be all calm and mildly sedated.  I could use some of that, let me tell you.  Also, this vet doesn't keep surgery patients overnight, so we'll be able to pick her back up after 2pm. Will clean the house like crazy between those hours, figuring it'll be spic and span by two. Nervous energy, you know.

With my mental state of impending over capacity (if that even makes any sense), will turn off my brain as best as possible until the weekend.  Then will nail down the details for our trip to Joseph's graduation.  It's sort of like how I can't do anything about any of it---life will roll along in its swift manner whether I interfere or not.

Which brings to mind something our priest mentioned in his sermon yesterday.  He said that folks often come for advice and prayer help and one of the first things he asks is if they're staying in God's Word.  Are they reading the Daily Office, the daily Psalms reading, praying regularly and staying in God's Face?  I thought it was wonderful that he said that.  I realize we long for the human angle, but when we really do stay focused on Him, then often amazing things happen.  Too often we become so side-tracked and only when life gets unbearable do we go hunting for the Lord.  I've learned the hard way that it seems He allows the tough times to get our attention.

Thankfully this isn't one of those times.

Thinking ahead

We were running late this morning, and as I was finishing up getting ready, I had the passing thought of how different my Sunday mornings will be when my mom goes back home to her house.  In three weeks time.  Already I do the altar flowers as soon as we get there, followed up by helping in the younger childrens' Sunday school class.  I even told one of our boys that I dislike having to hurry to do the flowers in order to do the next thing.  Would rather take my time and not feel rushed.  Of course, if we'd get there a tad earlier, that'd not be a problem.  And as it is, even running late is okay.  In perspective, it's very much okay.

In a related stream of consciousness----I'm reading Anna Quindlen's One True Thing on the heels of her newest book called Still Life with Bread Crumbs, which I enjoyed very much.  Anyway, not so sure One True Thing is a wise read for me, that is, unless I'm reaching for raw honesty.  In it the main character goes back home to care for her mother who's suffering from cancer.  My mom doesn't have cancer, but her stroke could be put into a similar pot.  Hard.  Hard.  Hard.

The young daughter in Quindlen's book kicks and screams (in her head) about caring for her mom---going into painful detail about their relationship.  Nothing outstanding, but misunderstandings.  Not getting one another, which, pretty much, sizes up my relationship with my own mom.

Now I'm listening to Claire de Lune, my favorite song of all time, given to me by my mom. When I was a child, she'd get out old 78s (the thick ones...remember?) and play them on the turntable.  She'd never play classical music when my dad was home (he favored country), but would crank it up when he left for work.  Her all-time delight was in Claire de Lune, and she's asked the organist/pianist at her church if he'd play it when she goes back to church for the first time.

Everything will change in 3 weeks.  She'll be at her house needing 24 hour care.  A quote in Quindlen's book rang out to me as I read it:

"This is not Peter Pan," she said.  "Your brothers are not the Lost Boys.  They can learn how to run a microwave.  Your father can learn where the ******* dry cleaner is. But no one," she ended, and her eyes filled, "can help your mother with the **** she'll be going through but you."

And so it goes.  Sundays will never be the same.  They (and every other day) will begin much earlier and end much later.  Not to sound like a drama queen, but I don't have faith in myself or those around me to be able to get the swing of this.  Having her in Rehab has been a blessing.  I get the idea of having parents in nursing homes.  I'm not a fan, but I get it.  I want my life to stay the way it is now.  I'm selfish.  And I'm scared.

And I'm not asking anyone to sooth me or tell me it'll all be okay.  It really won't.  I cringe when I think of it, and feel mean for feeling that way.  I scold myself for being honest, and Gary will ask me why this wrenches me so.  And know what?  I can't answer that, because really, I don't know.

Saturday busyness

Went to the hippie store with oldest daughter today and brought home a bag of fun.

Frankincense, Myrrh, St. John's Wort, Motherwort, Lady's Mantle, Elderberries, Yellow Dock, Herbal Orange Spice tea, Black Currant tea.

As I said, a bag of fun.  And oddly enough, I had no idea what the Frankincense and Myrrh would look like.  They're both resins, so look like little stones.  Actually they look like the incense used at church, which, I guess they could be.  They smell delicious. Gary lit one of the little pieces (about the size of a kernel of corn or a bit larger) and it smelled just like church on feast days.  I intend to make an essential oil, and some tincture.  Who knew?  I sure didn't.  When I go to buy herbs, I usually expect them to be either dried leaves or maybe barks.  But resins?  Never entered my mind.

Anyway, besides lunch out with daughter, picking up a bottle of brandy for tincture-making, buying the altar flowers, taking the girls to church at the Presbyterian megachurch (for a taste of praise music)----well, I'm ready to quit.

May the Sabbath begin now.

A visit with Mom

Took the three youngest to see my mom today, and while it was a good visit, it's rattling to see how she processes information.  And please keep in mind as I'm sharing a particular situation, it's not done critically, but in wonder.  Brains are fascinating, whether they're working right or not.

Mom's lunch was delivered to her room while we were there.  In addition to her sandwich and soup, etc., she was given a plastic cup of iced tea.  (Love the design of the cups---almost straight up and down and a bit squatty.  Much better than those Solo cups from the grocery store that are always tippy.)  Anyway, she opened her straw, taking off the paper and bending the top.  She put the straw in the cup through the hole in the plastic top.  So far, so good.  Then she tore open a sugar packet and began to pour it where the straw fits into the lid.  Made a mound of sugar around the straw.  I just watched her, and saw as she figured out the problem, taking off the lid and tipping the sugar into the cup.  She added a second sugar just fine.

I'm reminded of a young girl in our Sunday School class who has Down Syndrome.  We tend to let her set her own pace, not helping unless absolutely necessary, and showing respect for her progress, no matter what it is.  Sometimes it's a bit unusual.  I enjoy watching her face, though, when you can tell she's trying to figure out things.  My mom gets the same intent expression when she's attempting things.

Mom's speech therapist leaves her with work to finish--sort of like homework, with word association and questions related to opposites and related items.  Mostly processing of information of some sort.  I have to admit that I find some of it hard.  Not the sharpest knife in the drawer---not me. :)  

I still struggle over how different she is.  A shadow of herself.  I read somewhere about how important it is for caregivers (therapists/physicians) to see photographs of the older patient who's sick.  To be able to imagine them healthy.  Was thinking of taking a couple of pictures up there of my mom.  For them to see her smiling, with her hair done and makeup on.  She's had her hair cut off while she's been up there, doesn't look in a mirror at all, and while she has her makeup there--it's too hard for her to apply.  I think a little vanity is a good thing, but it's just not on her radar anymore.  About 48 hours after her stroke in November, she asked me to put makeup on her, which I did.  Not anymore, and I think that's a bit sad.

Partly I think she's disinterested in most things.  There are rare instances of enthusiasm for anything.  I understand that, the best I can.  I offered to take her outside since it's warmer and she said that when she leaves, she wants it to be the last time.  Yeah, but wouldn't some fresh air (the first in months) be a nice change?  Not so much.  

Anyway, that's the scene with her now.  Caring for her in her home is going to be a monstrous task.  To save my own health, I've got to remember that when that time comes that I'm not doing it all by myself.  

Just doing today

When I was reading in bed last night, I got to thinking about today---knowing the temperatures would be dishy and planning on having tea in the backyard at breakfast-time. Have to take snacks to the chickens because a couple of them will hop into my lap, trying to have whatever I'm eating/drinking.  Yesterday took my lunch out there and as soon as I sat down, Anastasia came up to me stretching her neck to see what I had.  Let's just say that they had leftover Spanish rice for lunch.

And this morning, as soon as I walked out with my tray, two houses down, some men began cutting/weedeating/blowing a yard. Not the quietest of breakfasts, but nice nonetheless. Glad they made quick work of it.  Now I can hear the noise of a train (the tracks are about a mile away), and the chickens making their small clucking noises of content.  It's calm outside again.  I call that bliss.

Now to carry this mood throughout the rest of the day.  Not borrow trouble, or anticipate anything I can't control.  I've now filled my Brown Betty teapot with Tension Tamer, and that will be the theme of my day. Windows up, a slight breeze, and rest. Join me?

Growing older, yet not so gracefully

When I was on the friendly side of fifty, I was okay with my age.  Now I've turned 55 and suddenly life feels very brief and fragile.  I remember when I turned 40, I cried. Looked at the pretty silver heart charm Gary gave me and cried.  Doesn't feel like that happened fifteen years ago.  My goodness.

Can't hold a candle to fifty-five.  I think it's that decade mindset.  With the next one being sixty, I feel a bit challenged.  Or old.  Or sad that my neck is getting all crepey. I'm not too keen on those lines on my face that go from my nose to the corners of my mouth either.  To tell the truth, my face has aged dramatically since my mom got sick back in November.  I have lines around my mouth that are definitely new.  And it seems I keep this overly sincere expression my face.  What's up with that?

I remember a few years ago my cousin came over to visit and she was sitting at right angles to me.  When I saw her profile, I noticed her neck was beginning to age.  She's five years older than me, so thought nothing of it.  Figured she was just getting a jump on the wrinkle scene.  Later that day, was in the bathroom with the mirror, looking at my hair or something and got a glimpse of my neck.  Shocker.  I looked just like my cousin.  Honestly, I don't look at myself from all angles most days, so any change from what I feel is the norm is a big surprise.

When my oldest childhood friend, Dana, died several years ago, I remember grieving over the fact that she was only 49 when she died.  Didn't see fifty.  I need to get some focus at some time on my perception of ageing and be grateful for the years and not just stricken with horror at all the evidence.

I need perspective.  In so many ways.  Yes, I'm thankful to be alive.  I just wish it was easier.

Catching my breath

Life has felt over-busy here lately.  Taking care of bills, considering what my mom's next step is, thinking about Joseph at Basic, having birthday/anniversary/Valentine's.  Stuff.

Now I'm wanting a day at home full of ordinariness.  I feel like a person who's indulged in too much rich food and now want a day of toast and hot tea.  Too much living, I guess.

I talked with my oldest brother yesterday---he sees our mom in a slightly different light than I do, being more capable of a 'tough love' sort of approach.  He told me she'd fired (if you want to look at it that way) her Occupational Therapist at the Rehab. place where she's staying, and said the woman was too hard on her.  Okay, I can understand the Physical Therapist being a challenging person to work with, being that that's more physically demanding, but the Occupational Therapist?  That confuses me.  That therapy is much more low-key, so not sure I get where Mom is coming from.  I shared with Gary and he was really hacked off.  He said, and he's right, that we're all trying to encourage Mom to do her best---that her ability to go home is contingent on her success with the rehabilitation.  If she's going to get strong-armed about her therapy, we'll have some issues to deal with.  I get that she's tired of it, as best as I know how to be, but she's got to push herself a bit, especially since she'll be home this time next month. Goodness, my mind boggles at the prospect.  I guess possibly in one way she's trying to control the one thing she can control.  And the inmates do get antsy when pushed too far.  I figure she's possibly reached that place.

Plus, after you've been outta pocket for an extended time, folks forget about you.  The cards have dwindled from her friends, and only the faithful few still visit.  That has to be frustrating.  And her brain is reminding me of Swiss cheese, considering the damage the stroke left. She's different, that's for sure.  Her memory is sharp, but her cognitive skills are sadly lacking.  Logic is out the window.  ::sigh::

And then, I'll talk to her on the phone, she'll make me laugh and then everything balances.  And when she hangs up and tells me she loves me, I forget the frustration and just miss the person she used to be.  And so it goes.

Anyway, I'm going to putter today.  Ground myself.  It's going to be sunny and in the sixties today.  Glorious.  Might even crack the windows like we did yesterday.  Spring indeed is teasing us a bit.

Today's grace

Joseph called for his allowed 30 minute phone call late this afternoon.  Bliss.  Seems like we last talked to him 3 weeks ago.  Way too long ago.  In the midst of him sounding like he'd cry (but bearing up, sounding stronger than when he first arrived), he said he was second in command in his platoon and had ranked 3rd in shooting.

My birthday is on Monday, and I consider that phone call the best gift I'll receive.  Hands down.  Loved that he wanted to talk to everyone who was here, and even hung up after 20 minutes to call his older sister and one of his brothers who weren't here.

Now I'm exhausted.  Bet my boy is as well.

On a humorous note, he said Basic Training wasn't very hard.  Gary said he almost sounded disappointed in saying that.  I think Joseph was mentally prepared for anguish, but really as folks say, if you can survive the first two weeks, the rest is cake.

Thankful for cake.

Danish paintings

Two of my very favorite painters now are Carl Holsoe and Vilhelm Hammershøi.  Both Danish and oddly enough to me, brothers-in-law.  Take a look at these two paintings.

Similar, but the Holsoe is very fancy in relation to the one by Hammershøi.  I find this amazing.  Tell you what---open up two browser pages (Bonnie, I know you'll do this) and compare the work.  Amazing is the only word for it.  Same sorts of settings and manner of posing models.  Simply beautiful.  And what I'm showing you here just scratches the surface.  

~by Hammershøi

~by Holsoe

Family stuff

Errands.  Went to see my mom, took her the cherry pie for her main squeeze (don't say it), and we talked for about an hour and a half.  Good to visit, but frustrating, since she really doesn't understand how limited she is and will be when she gets home.  I say wheelchair---she counters with cane.  And on and on we go.  She's visualizing an independence that just won't happen.  And we've tried to talk to her about re-arranging a couple of the rooms, so she won't have to navigate the one step down into her den. We talked about moving all of her den stuff into her living room---re-routing the cable t.v., etc., but she doesn't want that.  She says she wants things the way they used to be, to be the person she was several months ago.  Well, she's already not that person either physically or mentally.  Parts of her brain are just missing.  She's almost in temperament like a small child who wants their way. She's good-natured, but will stick out her bottom lip when she doesn't like what you say.  And oddly enough (in a funny way) she does it a couple of times each time I visit.  Like a kid being stubborn.  Very strange.

I don't mean to sound horsey talking about her.  I try to be encouraging, but realistic at the same time.  I'm game for her to gain as much independence as possible, but we all draw the line at her driving.  She's really looking forward to that (which does no harm to long for it), but that'll never happen.  And while I appreciate her optimism, I acknowledge that her physical achievements so far are likely as good as it'll get.

Anyway, good visit nonetheless.  Her room-mate was off having physical therapy, so it was nice to talk without being overheard, not that we say anything that's top secret.

Moving on.

Saw a man in fatigues at the grocery store afterward and told him I especially liked seeing a man in uniform now since our son joined the Guard.  He was the nicest thing. He's in the Air National Guard and asked where Joseph was having Basic, and was full of information for me.  Said he loved it, had been in 21 years and just went on and on. Then I thanked him for his sacrifice and what he was doing.  Know what he did?  He said, "No, thank you for not standing in your son's way.  For allowing him to join."  My, my.  That just floored me.

Anyway, very full up after talking to him.  That was a blessing I was unprepared for.  I'm a military mom. And I don't know what to do with that realization.

More to read

New books from library bookstore.  I'm always amazed when I go into the used bookstore which is just inside the lobby of the main branch of the library here.  As I was leaving, after getting my pile, I saw a Kate Morton I don't have....hardback at $3.00, but resisted.  Wonderful prices...Kathleen Norris' Amazing Grace, Stalking the Divine by Kristin Ohlson, which is about the Poor Clares, cloistered nuns who have an order in our town as well as at other places.  Got Mr. Jones, Meet the Master by Catherine Marshall too.  Love her.  And for Valentine's for the little girls I picked up two Joan Walsh Anglund books...ones I remember from when I was small.  I got two copies of the same little hardback (shown) with dustcovers. She was a big deal back then.  A dollar a piece?  A steal.

The addict needed more.  Seriously?  Aw, yeah.

Tuesday afternoon

Had gotten the impression from some of the parents on Facebook, whose children are also at the Army Base where our son is located, that it's good to include their platoon # on the letters.  I'd gotten his address by calling the main office there a few weeks ago, and the man then didn't tell me what Joseph's platoon was called, either by color or number.  Good enough then.  But you know how we parents are---a bit OCD at the best of times.

We have a few packages of cough drops to send him (he can't get them there, and they're really strict on what they can receive---have to really toe the line), and I called to get his platoon number.  The man who answered was really sweet, catching on immediately as to what I was calling for, and told me that the platoon number wasn't necessary for sending mail.  I thanked him, hung up and started to cry.

My goodness.  I think my emotions are raw, and add to that, had had a sweet conversation with my mom this morning as well.  She was asking me to buy cherry pies for us and her gentleman friend for Valentine's.  I'm to bring his up to her room, so she can give it to him on Friday.

Nothing big going on.  Just probably need a good hearty cry.  You know how it is.  If you don't get that opportunity to do that, then you'll just leak.

Caring

We had a funeral at church yesterday.  Requiem Mass.  Such a beautiful service.  Got there early to practice with the choir, dressed in the garb, sang, helped get the reception/luncheon set-up while some went to the burial, ate, cleaned up.  Tired afterward.  And this after considering, just the night before, of just helping in the kitchen. Small church, all hands necessary.

Love it.

Now today at church, most folks there looked careworn and soft.  Tears still at the surface, and when our priest gave the Benediction at the end, he began to cry, talking about something totally unrelated.  He just needed an opening to let go.  That meant a lot to me.  Just him being human.  That on top of me feeling the sudden burden in my heart of Boot Camp Boy.  Whoosh---there he was to pray for.  Not sure if he regularly goes to church at the base, but he's said he's not keen on it when he's gone---misses our church.

Love that as well.

Just this very moment

"Velma opened her eyes to discover she was standing in the barn.  Their old barn made new again.  She was looking at the tanned, sweating back of a man. He was stripped to the waist and held something metal in his hands---something he was sharpening.  Her first funny thought in all of this was that she had legs.  This was an old fact and a brand-new fact that rushed into her because she felt them---her legs---standing strong like she hadn't felt in, well...Just how long had it been since her legs could carry her forward without a doubt or a care?  She lifted her hands, and they were spotless, just the flesh of her, no evidence of where they'd been or the toil they'd endured.
---
...The man wasn't just any man.  It was her man..... 

Joe moved, lifted his head like he had heard something calling from far, far away.  Then he turned and looked at her, was looking at her right now, and she was drowning in her man's blue eyes.  He studied her, her fingers at her lips, her eyes full of wonder and heat and promises, and he emptied his hands before he stepped forward.  This, right now, is forever, she thought. This moment is forever and always.  It is everything."~from Saints in Limbo by River Jordan

I began reading this book again last night and some things rang true.  With my mom's stroke, I've shared that I look at things differently.  Not all the time, but a considerable enough time.  I'm learning to cherish things more.  It seems to be a natural progression to see the threat of death in the face, and be more attentive toward the simple events of the day.  Like the quote above.

In the story, Velma has been widowed a year and is desperately missing her husband of many years.  I won't spoil the story, but she is granted the ability to see into the past, to re-live certain events and relish them like she probably didn't do when they happened the first time.  We do get so used to the daily things and we don't always realize that that very moment might be the last time.  Like the last time a baby nurses.  You don't always know that it'll be his/her last time to reach for you in that special way.  Or the last time you bake a particular dessert, read a certain book, or look into a loved one's face.

I so adore the way this writer calls our attention to those moments.  And in that same context, we got our very first letter from Joseph at Basic Training.  Now I can go to bed. My day is done (kidding).  I'm happy. :)

The Goldfinch

I've been on the waiting list for Donna Tartt's newest book The Goldfinch for several weeks.  Got it downloaded yesterday morning and began reading right away.  I was taken by her descriptive sentences, but got the point where I just wanted her to 'get on with it.'  VERY descriptive to the point of craziness.  She writes just like a person (any ol' person) would write who was putting down on paper every single thought that passed through their head.  Every single one.  The dust on the windowsill, and the water droplets that travel down the pane of glass, not to mention every living thing seen beyond the window...what they're wearing and what they might be thinking about at that particular moment (my examples, not hers).  And I'm a person who adores detail.  But I also enjoy reading a story, and if a book is so taken with detail that they delay telling the tale, then I lose interest. With Tartt there is no control.  Every object and emotion is scrutinized thoroughly.

Consider this too...I'm not a talker in real life, but she's a talker in a book sense.  Lots of words.  Lots of thoughts.  Lots of stuff coming into my head, and while a little of it can be good, I was overwhelmed.  Maybe at another time I could read it, but just not now.

After awhile I got to where I was skipping forward, and really didn't want to read it like that.  I mean, I was on a waiting list for weeks.  Should've realized I wasn't a Tartt fan after I tried to read another of her books and the sheer size of it put me off.  She's the Kevin Costner of fiction.  He's the fan of long, drawn-out movies...and says he loved those types of films as a child....the long epics.  Tartt is an epic-writer.

And while as a Southerner, I do appreciate that she's from down here, I have a life and really can't spare the time to read her books.  Wish I could, but just can't.  And with this one having an artwork link...sounds dishy, but just not for me.  So sad.

But, shoot...this book could probably be edited to at least two-thirds of its present size and retain every darn bit of its integrity.  Truly don't think book editing is done like it was in the olden days.  And, yes, I am a believer in 'less is more.'  Besides if you tell the reader everything you want them to know, they don't have to think at all, and in reading, at least for me, a little mystery is a good thing.  Lets you be part of the story, and not just the observer.  There, I've said enough.

This and that

~the one with glasses writing

I miss our boy today.  Had gotten discouraged Monday, considering the Facebook page for his Basic Training hadn't updated the photos over the weekend.  Seeing fresh ones yesterday afternoon was glorious. And seeing the kids/and not so kids smiling as they did their stuff was encouraging.  Maybe they're finding their places there---less overwhelmed.  Gosh, I miss Joseph.  I want to get my arms around him and hug him.  Watch him sleep and feed him up.  Next month we'll see him!  He graduates mid-March, and some of us will go.  He'll then leave for 2 months more training, but the break of getting to see him will be a joy.

And my mom will get out of her Rehab. next month as well---likely the week before we leave.  My brothers will have to step up to the plate a bit more then, for sure. The brother who lives just out of town has been sweet, though.  He paid her deductible, and he drives 30 minutes or so after he leaves work to visit her Tuesday through Saturday, without fail.  Funny, but we all have the roles we play.  I pay her bills, handle all her paperwork, check on her house, do her laundry and visit twice a week. My out-of-town in Louisiana brother sends her money once a month, and calls her to let her cry and unload.  Put us all together in one jar and shake us up and you'd have a pretty neat person. :)  And while my care for her is more detail-oriented, I couldn't do what my brothers do.  I'm not willing to listen to her sadness (just can't handle it), don't have the emotional ability to visit daily, and can't afford to pay her bills.  Guess I'm sort of her secretary, mmmm?

Anyway, will be interesting to see how things fly next month.  But we're not there yet. I'm just doing February. And, btw, we've been married 31 years today.  Waytogo us.

My sweet boy

~he's the one standing straight ahead

~the one sitting so straight (without his glasses)

Late Monday afternoon

• Great Horned Owl was seen in next door's Oak tree this morning.  The least one was paying attention. Have kept tight watch on the chickens today. I didn't see it, but she said it was REALLY big
• More organic vinegar in apple juice---boing, boing, boing
• Cold outside, again, what else is new?
• Pork roast done in oven, baked most of the day
• Got schoolwork done early this afternoon
• Best decision to have made, making the balance of the day free and clear
• Girls watching 'Despicable Me 2'
• Avoiding stress today, as much as possible
• No thoughts of my mom, sick uncle, or the very ill friends at church
• After we came home from church yesterday, had no recollection of our priest even giving a sermon
• Asked the kids if he did---he did
• Figure if my memory is that shaky, then I need to chill out
• The service was distracting, though, with a couple of noisy little ones
• I'm all for kids in the church service, as long as they're quiet
• If we could do it with ours when they were small, others can do it as well
• The key is having a husband who is 'the hammer'
• ....and Cheerios
• Lots of parents appear afraid to discipline their children
• Big mistake
• Going to take it easy the rest of the day
• My body and brain need a break----apparently

Longwindedness, but necessary

Back from church.  The least one did fine in her Acolyte role---you'd really not know this was her first Sunday to do it.  Well-done.  And now we rest.  Not sure when the boys will be here to eat.  The house is in a horrific state, but considering the fact that they lived here for over 20 years, they get our untidy habits. I've not been to their apartment since they put furniture in it.  Probably looks like our house!  Unfortunately, my mental state reflects itself in how awful I'll allow the house to get.  Look at one, you understand the other.

The delightful part of my day, however, is waiting for the Facebook page aligned with our son's Basic Training to put up new photos.  They already updated the info part of their page, telling us what the recruits did this week.  I find it amazing that we're allowed an insider's look at the camp, seeing our kids (or spouses in some cases) in their new digs. Drumming my fingers on the computer, just waiting.  Anticipation is wonderful, I think.

And I keep thinking of our visit with my mom yesterday.  I was sitting on her bed (she was in her wheelchair) and she wanted to know what her bank balance was.  Told her I'd call the bank right then and there and check it for her.  I put a piece of paper on her little roll-away meal table and gave her a pen.  Her handwriting has improved quite a bit, so reading what she puts down is easy now.  Anyway, I said put down your Social Security # and I'll punch it in the phone.  She writes down the pound sign (#) for number, then proceeds to write the word B U D J E T (at least her brain was working in the money/numbers category...close, but not close enough).  She started to hand it to me and I quietly asked her to write down her SS#. Didn't miss a beat, but didn't realize she'd not written the right thing to begin with.  She got it right the second time.  This on the heels of her asking about a particular green sweater, which I thought might be in her Rehab. room closet.  I walked over to it, took out a sweater (which had red pants hanging underneath them), but it wasn't the sweater she wanted.  Asked her if she wanted the red pants, but she said they didn't fit anymore. Then she said that when they were doing her wash at the hospital (I did all her laundry and still do), they must've put something in the water, because to her they didn't appear as red as they used to. Personally, I think the stroke affected her ability to see colors correctly.  Not the first time she's commented on reds looking pink-ish.

Makes MY brain tired.  I didn't realize strokes affected such varied parts of a person's abilities or habits. Fourth son, who went with me, admitted on the way home that as soon as we hit my mom's room and walk in the door, he's wanting to turn around and walk right back out.  It takes inner resources that aren't always there.  I appreciated his honesty.  Keeps you from going nuts if you can attend to your own needs and not become too overwhelmed.

Today I'm trying to take care of me and not go nuts.

A whirlwind Saturday

Woke up to emails asking for prayer---our church has a very active prayer chain, which is awfully sweet and dear.  I'd gotten up with the dogs a little before seven, and sat outside with the chickens for a bit.  So spring-like outside today, so I couldn't resist. Went back to bed and checked my email on my phone.  Two men at church very ill, plus my uncle, who went into a nursing home on Thursday only to go to the ER last night.  My goodness.  Makes you cherish each and every minute.

Went out running around with fourth son.  Lunch (his treat), a quick trip to Whole Foods which has recently remodeled.  Bought a couple of bars of fresh shop---an almond and sandalwood/frankincense.  Delicious. Then to Target (a ritual at our house), then to see my mom, then to the grocery store.  So glad to be home.

I'm in bed after having put on some tomatoes for a spaghetti sauce.  Smells good.  The house is here and there, but mostly there.  Not worried about the mess.  We're having a cook-out of sorts tomorrow, because a couple of the kids want to watch the game. Oldest son is a fan, and he'll maybe come.  Middle daughter wants him to come no matter, since it's just a treat to see him.  Plus, free dinner!

Think I'll just take it easy tonight.  Nothing pressing I can do anything about.  Tomorrow the least one has her first day as an Acolyte, so that's exciting.  I've done my chores, so can enjoy church and the two baby baptisms.  Always adorable.  Plus there's cake afterward.  This is getting better by the minute. :)