Return Of The Skater Boy

Well, March most assuredly came in like an idiot and apparently is getting ready to go out exactly the same way.  Damn it all!  So the east coast and New England states are still suffering with too much rain and feet of unwelcome snow.  Wah!  I'm not going to come right out and say they deserve it; but come on!  Don't they?!

Here in the ever so glorious Midwest it is seventeen degrees on the day of the spring equinox.  How can we not feel punished?  And I personally had to rebook a doctor's appointment due to ice and my crippled inability to navigate the unsalted parking lot here at Elder House.  Luckily I managed one fast dash to the local Big Box for drugs, coffee, and broccoli cheese soup.  Life goes on.

I've been altering my daily routine a smidge. Fighting the afternoon pain to get some long delayed writing accomplished.  Also I've taken a friend's advice to heart and am relying on OTC pain meds when the prescriptions wear off after six or eight hours each day.  I've decided to risk the inevitable liver damage in an effort to experience a bit more of the actual daytime hours.  So far so good.

So far I've ripped apart Christmas gifts for my grandsons and begin them anew.  Looked up all the houseplants I want to purchase to replace the ones that died over this never ending winter of grey.  And yesterday I recalled FINALLY the name of the third Brady brother.  I refused to google it.  See how the impoverished elderly entertained themselves.

Besides the stupid birds who remain alive despite the lack of edible bugs outside the only indication of warmer weather EVER arriving is the Skater Boy.  On the few remotely snow less days he appears in khaki cargo shorts and sporting an army surplus back pack zooming down the middle of the street.  The sound he makes proceeds him by several blocks.  Fast, fast.  Don't blink.  Like the alleged spring he too is gone too soon.

Lost

Even if Kubler- Ross had it right, this knowledge about the grief cycle is not helping me.

Physical and emotional losses have hit me like a ton of bricks in the last several years.  I never denied them. I realized clearly what was going on; no denial was involved.  Intractable pain is not something I could ignore or pretend that it wasn't happening.  Banishment by former dear ones was also made undeniable.   SMASHO!

And maybe that was the problem right from the start.  Maybe if I had pondered the impossibility of these events I would have been better prepared for what came next.  In any case I've been stuck at anger for far too long. Every morning the pain wakes me up, then literally brings me to what is left of my knees during the day, and crushes me into bed at night.  Does this make me furious?  You betcha! The emotional wounds by people I thought I knew better cause  me to fantasize serious science fiction type torture for them all.  Anger is what I've got these days.  But, whoa, if I ever got hold of real weapons on an especially bad day; and there's no telling how much or how many I would annihilate.

Still, perhaps I've been lagging at this stage longer than is helpful.

I don't think bargaining is for me.  No one I know is willing to change much less listen to what I'd need to say.  Not much talking goes on in my sibling circle.  Drama, yes.  Photo opportunities, yes.  Serious conversation, NEVER.  Not with me anyway.  Who knows what they are scared of.  And there is no bargaining regarding medical care.  I am poor, old, and over weight.  Limitations prohibit any optional discussion.  YIKES.  Working around all this stuff is exhausting.

So what's left is acceptance.  And, 'dear holy god and matrimony' I am trying.  But, I am seriously considering the chain saw aisle at the big box.

6:26 PM

Two perfect days here in the Midwest.

Both days had glorious special breezes (required for swell weather).  Leaf breezes.  Grass breezes.  Sifting evergreen into the windows breezes.  Even the ridiculous squirrels were stopping and popping on the sidewalk breezes.

The sky on both days were worth writing home about.  But, less admit it, sky blue in and of itself isn't something special.  There are a jillions blue shades that I prefer.  Cobalt.  Turquoise.  Cerulean.  Beany Malone bed room walls.  My grandchildren's eyes.
But when the sky has the cloudy condiments in the usual blue it is damn well acceptable.

Yesterday was a sweet shopping day.  Found each item:  wooden clothes pins, the blue toilet tank bowl freshener, hot Oke Doke cheese popcorn, votive candles, key lime yoghurt, and the giant coral cactus I've been scouting for two months.  Such a happy girl.

AND... I got to drive myself home in my precious Ancient Vehicle with two new tires!

Today I replanted plants.  Met the PT chap.  Spoke to five (FIVE!) of my favorite peoples.  Watched the Children Parade which I've missed this summer.  Made an almost perfect tuna sandwich.  Realized how lucky I am to have the daughters, friends and grandchildren that I have.  Especially today I am grateful

Oh, it got dark at 6:26 pm.  If it stayed a bit lighter a bit longer....oh, yeah... I'm focusing on gratitude.

Turned Around

Big Box trip today took waaaaaaaay longer than usual; and so I was done IN by the time I got home.  Cranked up the fan and stretched my achin' self down on the shabby bed.  No need for AC for once thank god!  Read some Alther for awhile and then had to doze.

Please note:  I had not freezer-ized of fridge-ized any of those items because my intention was to DOZE (as in 15 minutes of energizing snoozing) and then pop up all refreshed.  OK that didn't quite happen.  I slept for three hours!!!  Which is SO not me.

Luckily everything had been double bagged and was still chilled enough so that I didn't have any unsightly drips to clean up (which is nigh onto impossible for moi') and I felt safe and comfortable that my yoghurt wasn't spoiled.  BB doesn't always have the thick cherry version I crave.  I probably would have eaten it even if I had found it boiling on my kitchen counter.  Nyet!  All was well.

So, I get up and stash almost everythin' and settle down for a smidge of trolling before serious paperwork I should have finished earlier this afternoon.  And on an interior design site I find the following:

Okay, OK even I recognised Amy Winehouse and I know a bit of her back story and all that, but I never really listened to much of her stuff.  Shame on me.  And, OK I admit I can only decipher about a third of the words to this song; but I tells ya' IT DON'T MATTER!!!  Clearly the girl had great musical chops and I apparently missed it.

Now I've got to stay awake and spend the night with the late Ms. Winehouse on YouTube.

Do you realize what this is going to do to my tomorrow???!!!  Sheez.

Smiling On The Outside

Take that Big Box!
 I found my red rock!
 I got it at half your price!
 It was delivered to my door!
 It is the exact size, shape, and color I ordered!
It is not electrically powered, does not take batteries, and will never need to be recharged!
And to make this purchase even sweeter today I discovered that the company is run by an American entrepreneur who is also (drum roll please) a woman!

Props to Mrs. Bible.  I'm so happy I could plotz!

End O The Week O

Blessings this week:

A really cool call from my best friend whom I never see informing me about an opportunity to obtain some much needed medical aid.  She's such a sweetie for thinking of me.

Really good news for Darling Eldest Daughter and her boys.  Wagons Ho!

The potential for really good things to happen soon for Sister and Son.  I'm always baffled when I hear that "siblings" begrudge her any good fortune.  Some of this family "just ain't right."

Really weird failure at making dark chocolate peanut butter fudge.  Let's call it a learning experience.  Tastes great but ugly.

Lots of really good books from Library Guy and a special order magazine that came in its own sealed delivery pouch.

Finding the really magnificent "little red rock" I've been searching for.  Take THAT, Big Box.  The item was discovered in Tennessee.

And, could it be?  Here at Elder House the distinct aroma of a pot smoking geezer.   Summer has officially begun I guess.

Ridiculosity

This week I finally decided to purchase a little red rock.  I had saved up sufficient pennies and located the exact item at the Big Box website.  I even called the store itself to ensure the red rock I had in mind was available.  All good.  Go for launch.

What do you think happened?

In the red rock aisle I found box after box of sparkly rocks and battery operated rocks and rocks with all manner of attachments.  None of which I desired or intended to pay for.  When I finally located a Big Box employee she suggested I try the low tech red rock aisle.  So I did.

What do you think happened?

No red rocks at all.  Stretchy rocks.  Bendy rocks.  Rocks with extra long handles.  But nary a plain red rock.  Ah, well.  I chalked it up on the ever growing list of disappointed shopping experiences and went to the grocery departments.

Waited several days.  Armed with a bit more patience and a view of the actual website listing of the desired red rock I phoned the store again.  Spoke to the red rock department manager.  She said:  "We have it on the shelf.  I am looking at it."  I jokingly requested that she save it for me.  Could she put it at the service desk?  No.  Hide it behind some other rock containers?  No.  Okey Dokey.  I saddled up for another trek.

What do you think happened?

In the red rock aisle.  Same snazzy rocks as before.  Not the rock I was promised.  Shanghaied a Big Box employee (a man this time) told him my tale of woe and he ASSURED  me he would personally place the red rock in my hands.  Back to the same aisle where he proudly lifts one of the battery operated rocks and turns to me,  "There you go!"

After I explained yet again that I did not want THAT rock, after I described the rock I was ASSURED was in stock, and after I restrained myself from ripping out his larynx; I listened in astonishment while he explained that they could not order the rock I hoped for unless they already had the actual rock.

What do you think happened?

I leaped over the scooter basket and pummeled the guy and his sparkly rock into a bloody pulp and left him to die on the floor.  Well, not really.  But I did choose my words VERY carefully.  "You are the Big Box for god's sake!  You are the KINGS of the department store world!  If you can't sell me a simple red rock then you are a bunch of goddam fakes who should be ashamed of yourselves!"  Then I spun around in the electric cart and drove away.

This is my vow:  I WILL find and purchase the red rock in question.  Then I will bash in the head of each Big Box employee in my path who made this transaction so goddam ridiculously complicated.

Caint

All shampooed and showered and off to the Big Box.  The beets I grew as foliage (and stunning foliage it was!) are finally spent and so I decided to treat myself to some potted herbs.  Rosemary for chicken.  Sage to make fake sausage of ground turkey.  Mint because it has one of the best, cleanest fragrances in the flora kingdom.  And because I think I'm going to add fresh mint to some of my new smoothies

Replenishing yoghurt and cheese when I happen upon tubes of chorizo.  Reasonably priced and within reach of my gimpified self.  When I was a young married, I used to shop at a teeny Mexican grocery.  There was an actual butcher.  He'd hack off a chunk of ground chuck and a half pound lump of chorizo and grind them together before my very eyes.  Made the best grilling burgers I have ever tasted.

Since then I have read Eating Animals and learned how the last edible dregs are literally exploded off a hog's face.  It's a hideous procedure and the men (and it was always men in the book) get sick and die or get killed when the machine, with its many knives, misfires.  I have also learned from Hannibal Rising that cheek meat of any beast is the most tender.

So......in the aisle, at the Big Box, I turned over the chorizo tubes and actually dared to read the ingredient list.  "Pork salivary glands, lymph nodes, and cheek meat."  Uh Oh.

These might be delicacies in other cultures or on other planets, but I very nearly retched.  I replaced the tubes of alleged human food (yes, my perception changed that quickly) and I sped off.  God bless the electric carts.


Cheese and crackers for me tonight, thanks.

Do The Hokey Pokey

How do you know if a place is haunted?

I go to bed early.  I doze.  I read.  I get up to pee.  I look out the window.  I rearrange blankets.  I plan the next day's meals.  I think about calls I have to make and emails I want to send.  I cry.  I pray. "Lather rinse, repeat" like the old instructions on a shampoo bottle.

And last night I listened to a brand new sound.

From the kitchen I am almost sure.  Dripping?  Crinkling?  Munching?  Oh God!  Please NOT munching!  If there are mice or rats I am going to get medieval in a particularly hideous old lady manner! 

All the trash is double bagged.  The only "food" not contained in fridge or cabinet are some new, red potatoes, two oranges and two kiwis.  Counters are wiped and floors are as crumb free as possible.  Yikes!  Please not critters!  There have been no signs and the noises go on for far too long.  Wouldn't rodents chow down and move along?

It's not anything clinking in a breeze.  The window is only open an inch or two and the night is still.  All is calm.  All is bright.  Even the noisy plastic bags from the Big Box are stowed away.  No other possible sources of a crinkle.

That leaves dripping as the only option I can imagine.  But it's 3:15.  If I limp out there to discover a huge puddle there is nothing I can do about it.  And of course, I'd have to navigate a potential flood without slipping and crashing myself.  How badly do I want the paramedics to see my massive self splayed on the soggy floor?  Nope, nope, nope.  Exploration can wait til daylight.

I listen more.  Eventually I sleep.  Cloudy morning.  Since procrastination is my current favorite sport, I treat myself to another LUSH shower.  Thank you, Eldest Daughter.  I medicate.  I dress.  I  hobble to the kitchen and find:

NOTHING!!!  No puddles.  No debris.  Nothing moved or out of place.  No nibble marks on the counter foodstuff.  Nothing is even damp!

So, do I call maintenance and report a ghostly noisemaker?  Or do I wait til the ceiling crashes in?  Or do I do the Hokey Pokey?

Big Box Adventures

I saw a woman in a slinky backed black sweater eating a bowl of cereal.  Not a teeny sample cup.  A regular sized bowl I think she must have brought from home (or maybe not).  She had an opened  carton of milk and one of those giant economy bags of multi-colored cereal (the kind kids are admonished not to eat) wedged in her cart.  She very happily munched and strolled the frozen food section.  When I checked out I spied her at the haircut counter.  No sign of cereal, milk, or bowl. Her purse wasn't that big.  I wonder what she did with the leftovers.

I saw raisin bread that had been marked up $.48 a loaf since the last time.  Seriously?  Is there some kind of shriveled fruit shortage?  Shriveled fruit boycott?  Do I have to switch brands?  But, no, the competitor's brand had the same jacked up price.  I must have discovered a raisin bread cartel!  This should be an election issue.

I saw the cashier with the horrible/pitiful facial disfigurement.  What courage it must have taken to simply apply for a job in the public eye.  I applaud her and defend her right to be there.  However, and this may get me drawn and quartered, she's not a very good cashier.  She is slow, easily distracted, makes mistakes, and is not very polite.

I saw the zebra striped washcloths and FINALLY bought them!

I saw the sweet cart guy, who I'm beginning to believe is deaf.  If he's there he always fetches a cart for me as I hobble into the store.  If he sees me coming out he hands me bags as I load the backseat.  He has a terrific smile and his face is almost always chapped red in the cold.  He wears a really big coat.