Snapping Back?

I looked in the mirror yesterday and wondered who the hell was standing in the bathroom with me....surely that pale pasty puffy pooped woman couldn't be me.

So I pinched myself and the alien said "ouch."

I'm not sure that's enough evidence for a court of law but it probably would be considered enough proof in your bathroom.

So I fluffed up his woman's hair....put a little mascara on her....and sighed.

I have no snap in me......


No twinkle...no mischievousness....it's like my personality has gone Matzoh.

I don't regret the emotional price I've felt over my parents death....or the work or the heartbreak experienced.

What happened to them was sad and tragic and loving them meant feeling all the trouble and ache and pain that accompanied their illness and death.

It's just that....I'm a little surprised...how I can see the results on me yet....especially here at home.

In Chicago....working in their house....I expect to be a wreck....emotions rollercoastering...but even in the sanctuary of my own place...I feel shadowy....not quite all together.

I bought a plain brown journal the other day to start writing some ideas for what to do down the line....someday in the next year....their house will be sold....and all the mountains of stuff will be somewhere or at least mostly organized and processed....then what will I do?

My hub suggested a trip....but even when I said words like Mongolia, Jordan, Ireland....they sounded flat....as if they were not living breathing ideas but cardboard.

A friend suggested writing down my experience with my parents....maybe put something together....but I have amnesia...I can't seem to remember it chronologically....I just have images....still frames of moments throughout the last months.

I wish I could cocoon for a week or two.... process things quietly....but there are financial matters...and a memorial service....and the IRS has already sent them a letter....and I'm seeing this person and that person...probate may loom ahead.

All "have to's".....that can't just be put on hold. ...or maybe they can....and I just don't know it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Boss

Meet the new boss at our house.

Ali-cat.

And let's just say....I don't think it's an accident she likes to rest on a narrow ledge two stories high above a painting of a snow leopard.

I inherited both cats.

Ali was my mother's kitten.....a gift from her Lebanese neighbor... hence the Arabic literary reference.

And the snow leopard was a painting an interior decorator owned and felt would be perrrfect in my foyer.

Ali is 6 pounds of pure spit and curiosity.

She lived in a cat cage in my parent's house since she was 6 weeks old. My mom, with her dementia, wasn't thinking clearly and kept her mostly confined and admired in the family room.

When we set Ali-cat free in our house, she had 8 months of kitten hood to catch up on.

She chases the dogs....terrorizes our old cat and in the morning we find various knick knacks and objects at odd angles or turned over.

Our old cat, Cat, will have nothing to do with her and currently sits in protest under a dresser in an extra bedroom.

When Ali creeps up to her....you'd swear a National G special on African lionesses was on TV.

Hisses....yeowls....high pitched undulating cat cries fill the hallway....but since they're both declawed...when paws flail out.... you only hear a soft dull thud instead of something more serious.

I don't think Ali-cat is mean....I think she just wants to play and sniff Cat....who, as Queen of the Universe, is highly insulted by the presence of this inferior youngster.

When Ali tires of stalking the old cat....she turns to digits and tails.

Last night, I woke up when hub's leg shot in the air. Ali saw something wiggle under the blanket and bit his toe.

When Ozzie....65lbs of dog....naps in the kitchen... she slowly crawls...belly-to-floor...over to him and delivers a couple well-placed swats to his tail.

Because I'm coming and going so often these days....Ali and I have an uncertain relationship.

Sometimes...she jumps on my desk and thumps thumps my fingers on the keyboard and at other times....she curls up in my lap and purrs.

Hopefully when some of the kitten gets spent ....Ali will settle down and the Queen of the Universe will grudgingly make room for her.

Until then......Ali keeps an eye on us....high on her ledge......like some supreme commander assessing the battlefield strategizing the day's action.
~~~~~~~~~~

How I started my new birthday year.......

So today is my birthday....and I decided to sleep in...till 7am before tackling more painting and repairing.

At 6:02am, I hear a wet smacking noise.

Damn that dog!

At home Ozzie ventures into our bedroom only if there's an emergency (like a massive thunderstorm or a massive need to go outside quickly).....but here in my parent's house which is one level.....Ozzie the Wonder Dog feels its important to let me know the sun is up an he's ready for breakfast. He doesn't nudge me or put his paw on me....he just stares at me and licks his lips...loudly.

This morning, I refuse to open my eyes....I open them just enough to see his beady brown eye stare....but quickly close them and turn over. I put the blanket over my head to muffle the wet noise.

At 6:10am, a quick electronic chirp goes off somewhere in the house. Ozzie jumps up...alarmed by the alarm. I burrow further under the blankets thinking it's my parent's weird atomic clock or the microwave or stove or something.

Chirp.

Damn....what the hell is that?

I sit up and Ozzie bounces over.... happy that I am alarmed at the alarm which he is very alarmed about.

Chirp. Okay it must be one of the smoke alarms....low batteries.

I sink back down into the pillows and think maybe I can ignore this.

Chirp. Chirp.

Really pissed off, I get out of bed and stare at the smoke alarm in the hallway. It's the only one around and it is now chirping every 30 seconds.

I grab the step ladder and investigate. Okay only two screws are holding this baby up to the ceiling. I can handle this. I grab the flat screwdriver which was in the bathroom and proceed to dismantle the alarm except I see that dad has left me a little surprise...one nail is for a flat screw driver and the other nails needs a Philips screwdriver.

So I descend the ladder and head downstairs to the basement. Mom's spooky old anti-social cats stare at me with their big yellow eyes from the laundry room doorway.

"What are you looking at? Didn't you ever see anyone in their underwear?"

Apparently not....cause their eyes grow saucer-sized as I poke around the bar till I find the screw driver. I am not in a good mood....in fact...I'm in a very bad mood.

"Shoooosh."

I wave the screwdriver at them. They turn and dive under the furniture.

Ozzie the Wonder Dog has remained faithful and sits in the hallway guarding the chirp and the alarm.

I climb the ladder, dismantle the last screw and pull the batteries out.

Chirp.

"What the hell?"

Chirp.

I put the device next to my ear like a sea shell.

Chirp.

I shake the damn thing.

Chirp.

Then I look around....behind me above the bedroom door is a carbon monoxide sensor and alarm.

I get down and move the ladder a couple feet.

Chirp.

"Son of a bitch."

I retreat downwards and grab the screwdrivers. This time dad used one type of screw. I place the extra screwdriver in my bra and dismantle the alarm...then fling it like a frisbee onto the empty bed.

"And what's your problem?" I shout to Ozzie.

He is so in tune to my moods ,he's cowering in the hallway ...which makes me even more irritable because in a weird way I am looking at my own bad mood.

He jumps up and heads for safer ground in the kitchen.

I turn around and catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror....hair standing up on my head.... half naked with a screwdriver secured down the front of my bra.

I hope this is not an omen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bit too high......

Whooo weee.....

I had to stop painting and take the rest of the day off.......

I'm trying to apply a base coat of cover-all paint onto my parent's dark wood paneling in the den. It's a bit tricky to work with....and of course you have your face in the stuff....and in a few hours....I was loopy and soaring.

Tried to open the huge patio door for air but dad had screwed it shut for the winter. So I headed off for Chinese food....which I shared with Ozzie the wonder dog ......and actually watched TV for a couple of hours while I recovered.

Now I'm going to make myself a drink ...scrounge up a few pretzels and
continue detoxing....tomorrow I'll try again...gather a few more fans and see if I can finish the two walls without floating up and out over Lake Michigan.

My creative way of keeping the nasty old rug (which has to be replaced) away from the wall and molding while I paint.....fortunately there are a couple hundred rocks scattered around the front yard.
~~~~~~~

Pink and Blue

I'm up here in Chicago with Ozzie the Wonder Dog for a week to begin painting and repairing my parent's house.

I actually forgot it was Memorial Day weekend because my birthday is next week and usually Memorial Day is after my birthday..... rarely before.

I've been up to my elbows in pink joint compound....spackle....blue painter's masking tape and assorted brushes and rollers.

The real estate agent told me to remove the outdated wall paper in the foyer and I did.....however....I was left with an untextured old pitted wall that is part plaster...and part HELL.

It took less than an hour to tear the glittery wallpaper off....but it's taken two days to prep the wall.....filling up 25 nail holes that held family pictures....texturizing .....and discovering plaster molding is delicate and touchy and should only be handled by professionals....which, of course, I am not.

Every hour I cursed at my status.....because I am a woman who knows how to Spackle and paint and prep a wall.

Sometimes I wish I was some delicate little thing who runs off to Pilate's class and never ever scraps paint and joint compound from under her fingernails.

Unfortunately, my dad....my sweet dad....taught me all these skills....and sometimes when I'm working I talk to him......

"Shit dad....did you tell me your crown molding was plaster?"

"Geez dad, why did you leave that big lump of joint compound in the corner? Was there a crack under there?"

and of course, the heart-felt....."Dad, I wish you were here."

I use his tools....his paintbrushes...his ladders... and after an unfortunate accident with some paint....I even grabbed a pair of his shorts to wear while working.

I'm okay during the day.....when the wall is Hell and I need to focus on it....but at night....when I'm too stiff and tired to work any more.....the quiet house....the absence of my parents....is Hell.

Through it all....Ozzie....waits for crumbs and treats and chances to go outside and poke his nose through the slates of the fence looking for the yippy Russel Terrier who lives behind us.

I drink a big glass of wine....hope I will get sleepy.....and wait for dawn....so I can concentrate on the wall.....instead of everything else.
~~~~~~

The Blues....

Restless tonight....tried listening to some music.

Never liked the blues.....at least New Orleans Blues....but stumbled upon a Mali Blues artist...Boubacar.

African Blues.

Perfect.

My Father's Closet

I'm back home right now....but only for a few days.

I'll be heading back to Chicago to work on my parent's house again.

I'm going to try and put their house on the market in mid-July. The real estate agent I'm working with was blunt.....she said I have two options ....I could slowly sort and sell my parent's things and then put the house up for sale....or I could de-clutter and thin the closets... and place the house on the market by mid-July.

I choose the second option. I'm going to work my ass off painting, pulling up carpets to uncover the hardwood floors and doing minor repairs. I'll box up their things, store the stuff in the garage and once the house looks pretty....work on saving, selling or donating.

I'm not sure it's the right plan....but it's a plan....something I've been lacking.

Since I've de-trashed most of the living spaces....I decided to thin out my dad's closet first.

It took me two days.

Behind the shirts, the suits, the shoes.....dad had stored and sometimes hidden his treasures. For example, many of his shoes were stuffed with socks ....not empty socks....but socks full of nickels, dimes and pennies. Change for a rainy day.

Unusual camera lenses were in one shoebox....and in one back corner....a soft blanket protected an old concertina from my grandfather. Thick black trash bags protected caps and good hats from dust on the shelves.

I found my father's army discharge papers stuffed in a frail envelope.....and also a faded newspaper clipping. My dad was a survivor of the S.S. Leopoldville, a ship torpedoed off the coast of France on Christmas Eve during the war. The Leopoldville was a cruise ship commissioned to carry 1200 soldiers from England to France. Once hit, the Belgian crew took off in the life boats leaving the Americans behind to fend for themselves on the sinking ship.

800 soldiers died. My dad....one of the lucky and brave ones... jumped from the ship onto the deck of a rescue craft. Many men who tried that jump fell into the sea or were crushed between the two boats. The Navy hushed hushed the incident during the war because of the botched rescue attempt and the unsafe conditions on the cruise ship. Only in the last dozen years....have official stories come out about the death and destruction and this was one of the first newspaper articles that broke the story.

I also found things in the closet.... I couldn't box up and put in the garage....things I needed to take home...things I could never sell.

In a large old Stetson box ....I pulled out a hat and fell immediately in love. It was so small and dainty....how could dad fit into it? Was it meant for someone else? I put it on and played with the brim in the mirror. I could see myself wearing the hat in the fall with a leather jacket. I visualized myself taking a walk on a crisp autumn day in NYC....perhaps in Central Park with the leaves whipping by....I could see myself pull the brim down to protect myself from the chill. I am not a hat person.....so it's strange to fall in love with a man's soft hat....but here it is home with me.

I think it's an East Coast hat.

.

On day two of closet work, I found a gun belt tapped shut in a box. My mouth fell open when I peered inside the box...not because I found a gun belt but because it confirmed a story was not myth but truth.

My dad told me he had ran away from home after high school and headed out to Arizona and California. My mom told me he worked at a dude ranch and had to wear a gun belt and guns to deal with cattle rustlers. I wasn't sure about the story and dad was rather tight lipped about the dude ranch part. One day mom showed me a pistol....it had a pearly handle and looked heavy. When I asked dad where he kept the gun....he said they weren't real.... it was a joke....and the gun was just a BB gun....a toy. So when I pulled out a real gun belt in heavy black leather with real bullets in the notches....I knew it was not a toy and was meant to hold real guns. Trouble is....no pistols in the box....which makes me wonder what happened to them.

Damn ....dad was skinny as a young guy.....this belt just fit.

.

And the last thing I took home.....a picture I dubbed "Cheesecake little Gina."

Never saw this picture before. I've seen one with me in this swimsuit holding a beach ball....but not this reclining little bathing beauty.

Someday when this is all past....I've got to find Gina and the cheesecake in me again.

Cheesecake Gina.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Booby-trap

I felt like a wall hit me....a wall of pain....when I opened the door to my parent's house.

I fought to get by it.....then stood in their family room. How could they both be dead? And dead so soon? Not even 90 days have passed since dad's stroke....and they are gone. I can still see their faces, especially my father's.....I can still see us holding hands...and watching TV in his room or going outside to listen to the wind chimes and watch the birds.

All this stuff.....the pictures...the slippers under the couch...the books....the coffee...the microwave.....all belong to people who don't exist anymore.

35 years in this house.....35 years of life and living and memories and it's gone. The lamp they placed on the end table is no longer the lamp my dad liked but just a lamp. The couch from the old outdoor porch is just a couch....the clothes....are just clothes... not the favorite comfy jacket or the warm hat. The people that bought these things, cherished these things...loved these things are gone ...so everything .....even things I know ....feel aloof and alien. My mother's recliner is not my mother's recliner....it has all become past tense...it was her recliner not is her recliner.

I am not doing so well up here... I don't want to poke or clean or go through the house. I often find myself sitting on the bed...or just staring into a room....forcing the idea into myself that both my parents are gone. I wish I could turn my house keys into someone and just walk away....but all this stuff demands attention.....and now even if it's alien stuff....it's my stuff.

I guess it's the last thing I will do for my parents. The distribution of the things they lived with...and cherished. It's so final.....and so disorienting to realize the stuff they loved and cherished is nothing without them.....it's like dealing with a million skeletons.

I'm glad I'll only be up here for a few more days. But I will have to come back ...and stay here a while and move things along.

Maybe it will be easier next time.

This week......

Two car loads.

.

Orange, red, purple, burgundy, white, hot pink, even yellow.

Hours after my father died, I asked my husband to drive me to the hardware store.

.

I needed flowers.

.

I needed to fill all the empty clay pots surrounding my house.

.

I needed big...bold ..and bright flowers.....outrageous flowers... an army of color....a defense shield of life....against the dull ivory color of my father's face.

.

We filled up the car....driving home with plants in the trunk ...on the seats...leaves dangled over our heads.

The next morning I went back for more.....wrestling a giant Bird of Paradise plant into the Subaru. The plant so big.....the leaves embraced me as I drove home.

I have tried and failed to write my father's obituary.

I have picked through only a tiny fraction of the papers I need to sort.

I have not faxed any death certificates to agencies waiting for the documentation that will officially end my parents' existence in their system.

I have not even made all the phone calls I need to make....unable to dial again....long distance cousins....and neighbors..... to tell them once again.....there's been another death.

All I have been able to do is plant flowers.....pulling withered stems out of pots....and putting fresh greens in..... slowly watering bold arrangements of orange and purple and red.......not rushing.....returning again and again to make sure all the soil is saturated....all the roots are covered....all the pellets of fertilizer are spread evenly.

And sweeping....sweeping all the debris and dust and dried leaves away from the newly planted pots.

This is all I have been able to do this week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dad died this morning.

Mom told me they had never been

separated for more than a week or two in 62 years.

They were apart for ten days.

the week after.

I lived the week after mom's death like I was flicking a light switch.

I turned the switch on and went to work and oriented the new person who took my position. I smiled at people, laughed.......tried to download the information about my job to my replacement...even felt grateful to be among familiar people who would give me bear hugs.

I'd leave work ...get in the car and turn the switch off.....then I was quiet....exhausted....sad.

The last two months have gone so slowly and so fast at the same time.....heartbreak....pain....they slow the clock down so even a second feels like a year......business...all the financial and legal business....I start making phone calls, pulling out the calculator...look up and hours have flown by.

Today.....trouble....dad is coughing, exhuasted, wincing in pain. He has entered the hospice program....I can not believe it maybe time to go through this again....it has arrived so quickly....time is moving slow again.
~~~~~~~~~~~

My mother died last night.

`

Like father...... Like daughter.........

I'm up here in cold windy gray Chicago....doing a little business for my parents....repairing a window....looking for insurance and other tax documents....de-trashing a bit.

.

I have my faithful pup, Ozzie with me, but it's lonely solo-ing up here and I still find it grim business to go through their house....despite discovering the occasional old picture from my childhood or even something from my grandparents.

.

Today I focused on my parent's bedroom.....where I discovered a box of bills on my last trip.

.

I got down on my hands and knees to search under their bed. I didn't find anything on my mother's side....although something was on my father's side of the bed.

.

On hands and knees again....I peered under his side of the bed........and laughed.

.

Yep....like father....like daughter....a big ol' baseball bat.

A classic Louisville slugger.....a left over from the old neighborhood.

.

I admit.....I have a baseball bat under my bed too....it's the preferred burglar alarm and intruder weapon for any self-respecting person from the south side of Chicago.

.

I've never used my bat (even when angry at my hub) and I probably wouldn't remember it was there....even if I did hear a strange noise in the house....but the tradition continues.

.

So I called my daughter up.

.

"Listen....when you come to Chicago in May....I'm going to give you your grandfather's baseball bat."

.

Silence.

.

"You put it under your bed...a south side burglar alarm."

.

"I think you showed me the one under your bed."

.

"Good.....good....so now you'll have one too...you don't have to beat anybody up with it......you just put it under your bed and leave it there."

.

"Okay," she said but I could hear the slight hesitation in her voice....exactly what you would expect from a modern young woman who did not grow up in an old ethnic neighborhood.

.

"Anything else Mom?"

.

"No," I said...and with one hand.... pulled the bat out from under my father's bed.

.

"What are you doing ?"

.

"Trying to insure a good night's sleep for myself."

.

I slipped the bat under my side of the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trouble below.....

"Oh my stomach feels bad....maybe I have the flu."

.

"Really," my friend said, "What's wrong?"

.

" My stomach is gurgling and there's a bowling ball in my abdomen."

.

"Ahhhhh....." he said, "You don't have the flu you have Matzoh belly."

.

"Matzoh belly?"

.

"Matzoh belly."

.

"Matzoh balls and fish and horseradish and hard boiled eggs and chopped fruit plus all those cups of sweet wine."

.

I felt queasy just listening to the things I've eaten in the last few days at various celebrations.

.

"Rest rest and just have broth...nothing else."

.

I hung up the phone and rested my head on my desk.

.

Then I had a vision.

.

I couldn't help it.....

.

I saw Moses on a mountaintop...(who looked surprisingly like Charlton Heston)....he raised both arms up to heaven.......his long gray hair and beard tossed by the wind......the sky dark behind him.

.

"Lord Lord I beseech you......"

.

(You've probably guessed what's coming.....)

.

"Let my peoples intestines.....go"

.

Hmmm....I wonder if you can flunk Jew School because you don't have a cast iron stomach?

~~~~~

They Float! or Thanks Julia or Does this mean I pass?

"They float ....they float!"

My husband walked into the house and looked confused.

Was this really his wife standing over the stove peering into a boiling pot with a wooden spoon in my hand? Does he have the wrong house? Wrong wife?

"They float!"

I was estactic.

I'd been anxious all afternoon ....hoovering over the recipe for Matzoh balls.

I had spent 13 hours with Julia Child last week....and I was actually convinced that there could be some pleasure in cooking....which rubbed against my long held belief that the most pleasure I could ever derive from cooking was watching men....cook for me.

Of course, I really didn't spend 13 hours with Julia....she's moved on to cooking heaven....but during my long drives back and forth to my parent's house in Chicago over the last few weeks....I started listening to audio tapes and finished "My Life in France," a memoir detailing Julia's love affair with French food and cooking.

I expected lots of foodie talk and sections about cooking....but what I didn't know or expect was that Julia was not a born cook.

In fact, she didn't start cooking till she moved to France and was in her forties!

My jaw dropped open and remained so for many interstate miles.

I thought good cooks emerged from the womb with whisks clenched in their little chubby fists.

But here was this woman....starting her cooking career ........in mid-life.

So last week.....a bit inspired.......I texted my husband...... "I'm cooking something for dinner."

He called back.....

"You're cooking?"

"I'm cooking"

"You are cooking."

"I am cooking ."

Silence.....he probably thought it was a delayed April Fool's Day prank.

But no joke, I pulled a tattered copy of my Southern Ham soup recipe out of the kitchen drawer and began.

Southern ham....unlike anything I ever eaten up north.....has a thick coarse coating of black pepper.



I was raised on Krakow ham which arrives in large tins from Poland.

My mother and grandmother pulled the formed meat out of the tin then covered the top of the ham with a thick blanket of brown sugar.

My job was to secure pineapple rings and a cherries in decorative patterns with toothpicks when the ham was almost done baking.

In contrast to this delicate pink ham ....Southern ham is spicy, meatier, and sliced thick........ and there's no such thing as a dainty ham down here........ which means lots of left overs.

Faced with a mound of peppery ham after some holiday and not enough freezer space.....I decided to make soup....combining regional veggies with the ham......black-eyed peas........green peppers....onions.....and some cherry bell peppers....and of course it had to be in a red base....after all this is the South.

Mmmmm......so good....I exhausted my entire supply of innovative recipe ideas....and haven't created anything since then.





I admit.... hoovering over the stove as the aromatic soup cooked was a pleasant and pleasing experience....and combining the soup with a fresh warm loaf of multi-grain bread plus my favorite French butter....would have made even Julia purr.
.

This week....of course.....is a special week.....Easter celebrations for some....but for me...in Jew school.....and celebrating Passover....a challenge.
.

Could I actually make at least one traditional food ?? With one recent soup success under my belt......I decided to try Matzoh ball soup.
.

Although there's a recipe on the Matzoh meal can, I found one on the web by a woman with a comforting Jewish-sounding name and cast my fate with her.
.

I made slight variations to her recipe....using organic brown eggs.... and kosher sea salt....and I decided I wasn't going to sink my balls (so to speak) in just plain broth (very traditional) but would make my soup with fresh vegetables and kosher chicken.

But as I placed the Matzoh in the boiling water.....I started to panic.....I felt like I was looking into one of those Magic 8 balls ...the mini bowling ball with the transparent window....where a little triangle answers your whispered question..... and a bobbing piece of plastic floats up and says....Yes....No.....Uncertain....Maybe.
.

I would like to lie....and tell you I had an interesting question....a funny question....or even a cooking question......but....(and I am embarrassed to admit this)....it was like my Matzoh balls were my Jew School Final Exam.
.

Float and she passes.......Sink and remain doughy.....and she fails.

It seemed touch and go at first......

they sunk....(is that what they usually do?)

but then......

they rose....they bobbed.....they floated up and down in the brisk boiling water.....

like ping pong balls (sort of).

I had passed!

and.....

I even had class in the evening....so I could tell everyone I made Matzoh ball soup from scratch and it was Good!

I told the Rabbi about my accomplishments....and that my balls floated........he chuckled....

"Well you know Gina, traditionalists don't eat Matzoh today....it would be the equivalent of ordering a turkey sandwich the night before Thanksgiving...the idea being you should wait till the Passover celebration."

"Oh"

My heart sank.....but at least I know my Matzoh balls floated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another ending......

I sat in the car on this windy cold spring night and rested my head on the steering wheel.

.

"Ouch"

.

In a week full of ouches....I could hardly believe there was one more to feel...actually I was surprised I was capable of feeling any more.

.

My mom's minor leg infection...started a cascade of medical events....and after a conference with all her doctors midweek....we decided to make her a hospice patient.

.

My dad suffered the massive stroke.....and is paralyzed and unable to speak....but my mom started sliding medically downhill also in the last couple of weeks.

.

It is heartbreaking....with a capital H...to visit and interact with them.

.

No matter how hard I try to keep myself a float....I hit the exit door of their facility....and feel a knife ripping through me.

.

Tonight.....I had to run into work....a place I have ignored for weeks....to empty my desk and shove the few decorations I have in a box...so the next manager, who will replace me, can begin with a clean slate Monday morning.

.

There's no way I can work right now....but still....running into the store in my jeans in the evening....reminded me of the many times I ducked into work in my grubbies....to finish a project or read emails....or get a head start on my week or even catch a little end-of-the-week gossip.

.

My office mate was there tonight....and so was his sandwich.

.

Months ago....he left a sandwich wrapped in plastic from the cafe on his desk. I'd watch the thing week after week...thinking ...damn....we put too many peservatives in our food.

.

One day....I couldn't resist...I poked the sandwich to see if it was getting squishy....but it wasn't soft....it was hard.....it was also made of wax. I actually felt relieved we weren't selling sandwiches with a 100 year shelf life. I thought for a second about chucking it in my memento box.....but couldn't figure out if that would be considered employee theft....I'm sure somewhere in some company booklet there's a..."thou shall not covet and remove thy office buddy's wax food" clause.

.

As I walked down the aisle towards the exit, juggling my memento box, I could hardly believe I've worked at the store for 7 years...or that I worked as a manager these last 8 months....the place and people seemed so far away.....so other worldly....I wondered if I was making my employement history up.

.

At customer service....I hugged employees...smiled at a familiar customer......but felt disjointed and removed.....the type of feeling you have at a reunion where you hug people you have known but at the same moment realize how far you've traveled without them.

.

And I have a done a lot of traveling in the last few weeks....

.

yes...literally....between here and Chicago.....but also in myself....in my very core.

.

Whatever rough edges I have and have had....have been beaten smooth.......

.

when you watch two people you love... struggle and hurt each day.....trust me you feel beaten.....but oddly enough......it's not a negative message that comes pounding down on your head.....but rather a lesson....that's weighs on you.........something about kindness......about how unnecessary ....grudges...meanness.... objectification is ....in your dealings with people.

.

Every day I go someplace and say something like....I'm doing this or that or not doing this or that because I have ill parents...and someone says to me.....oh I've been there....oh my sister is dealing with that....oh my son was ill.....my daughter was....my husband.....and I look at these people and go damn.....everyone has their struggles beyond their public persona.....and I look back and feel like a jackass for all the times I've been insensitive.....or missed chances to be thoughtful..

.

So my career as a manager ends tonight.....and tomorrow I will get beaten up again.....and the universe will tell me to be kinder and better....

.

and I just wonder.....

.

where I am going and what will happen next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Foiling the lawn guys.......

Every spring.....when the leaves start budding....when the dogwoods bloom....when the azaleas start opening....the lawn guys come through the public part of our development with huge industrial weed eaters.

The easement....the space between my backyard fence and the sidewalk which runs along the street is public land.

Some easements are wild patches of woods....other easements are bare with just a bit of grass...the easement goal is natural but neat.

Because of the location of our house on our lot, the builder brought trucks through our easement so the forest was leveled...but I've wanted to return the easement to a wild place.

Over the last ten years....I've planted a few trees...encouraging red buds, dogwoods and wildflowers to grow.

You'd think in ten years I'd have a forest growing....but I don't..... because the openness of my easement the lawn guys come through in spring and mow down anything over 5 inches tall thus keeping it in a perpetual grassland state.

After the first couple of years.....I got the message....wilderness meant protection....so I surrounded my desired trees with flower stakes. They lasted a microsecond against the lawn guy and the weed eater.

The next couple of years....I tried stakes PLUS green landscape tape....wrapping the plastic green tape around the little tree and the stake.....making it look completely unnatural.....so any reasonable person would say....hmmmmmmm effort has been placed to protect this little twig....perhaps I should leave it alone.

Green tape must mean GO not stop to landscape guys....because their weed eaters shredded the plastic AND the stakes.

I got serious the following year and bought chicken wire....creating little metal fortresses for the tender shoots.

As long as the cage stood....the young twigs were safe.

Trouble: wind, storms, dogs, and people... knocked the little enclosures over....so if I wasn't vigilant....the lawn guys would descent upon the street ( a random day and time) and pooooof!! .....bye bye foliage.

This morning ...I put my garden gloves on...gathered some tools and decided it was a perfect day to fortify the easement....but I felt sad looking around at the young wildflowers and soft lime green leaves on the small trees. How will I save them?

Lost in thought, I tripped over a large limb laying on the ground (the lawn guys leave tree debris alone) and froze.

I thought of Star Wars.....really.....remember the scene when the teddy bear Ewoks release stockpiles of logs and the Imperial Walking Machines with their bird-like feet lose their balance and fall over?????????

Light Bulb!!!!.....if I place enough limbs and tree debris around parts of the easement.....the lawn guys won't be able to walk in there and mow everything down.

I can't imagine they'd try and walk on limbs and debris .....it's too much trouble...and one of the primary rules of the lawn guys is be quick.... don't think.... keep moving.

Unfortunately, I can't pepper the entire easement with logs.....but I scrounged up some fresh fallen storm limbs and tree debris from my yard and like a little happy Ewok.... placed them in strategic places....where young sprigs are attempting to get a foot hold.

Chicken wire is still on my list for the hardware store for little enclosures....but for once I think I might have a chance against the lawn guys....and if it fails....well let's hope they wear leather chaps...cause like the Imeperial Walkers.....they might find the footing a bit challenging.

~~~~~~~~~~~

tough peasant stock

I walked into my parent's room a few days ago and found my mother slumped in her chair. Her head hung down....saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth.....she didn't respond when I called her name.

I ran out into the hallway and yelled for a nurse.

Two aides came running towards the room to help... we placed my mother in her bed. I called my hub and simply said, "Please come."

I thought she had another stroke....the unresponsiveness...her loose jaw...the yellow-gray of her skin....all added up.

The nurse asked if I wanted to call the doctor ...an ambulance or did I just want to sit with her. She has a do not resuscitate order as per her living will......but I could override it.

"We'll stay with her," I said....my hand went over my heart to control the emotional pain....I imagined something would happen to my father first....not my mother.

My hub came and we sat around her bed. Her breathing rate dropped....her heart rate slowed.

There was a moment..... a very long minute ....when her chest didn't rise and she looked so pale.....I started crying.....after all the trouble of the last couple weeks I still wasn't ready for this.

My mother gasped and then gulped for air......which is not uncommon near death......she gasped again and one more time......and then started breathing ....regularly.

In a couple minutes......her eyes fluttered open....she tried to lift her head......then her lips trembled...she struggled to say something.

"I..... need......."

"I need......."

"What mom...what do you need?"

She took a few deep breaths.......she raised her head again and looked at me.

"I need.....a toothpick."

"What?"

She laid back and closed her eyes then put her finger to her mouth.

"I need a toothpick"

I felt like someone hit me with a wet sandbag.....my knees buckled....I sat down in the chair so I wouldn't fall over.

"Right here"......her finger pulled her lower lip down and she showed me her teeth. "Something's here....I need a toothpick."

"I don't have a toothpick Mom." I felt this crazy exasperation....I don't carry toothpicks....there's none in the room.....and who knew the need for a toothpick could bring a person back from the other side.

"I need a toothpick."

"Do you have one?" I asked Hub. He looked startled too and shook his head.

"I'll bring one tomorrow....maybe you can just brush your teeth now."

"Okay" she said......as if we had been sitting around the dinner table and the need for a toothpick just came up.

We sat for a while....she asked for juice and water.....a blanket.....finally the startled aides returned and said they would get her ready for bed.

I kissed her forehead.... said good night.....drew the curtain back which separated my parent's beds.

My father glanced at her....."She's fine dad...she just needed a toothpick"

He raised his hand up.....a kind of.....well of course she needs a toothpick ...gesture.

I left the room....and headed for the door. I was so shell-shocked I couldn't remember the electronic code to exit. I kept punching the key pad and getting my # and my * confused.

When I reached my convertible.....I was too weak to open the door and drapped myself over the hood.

Did this really happen?

Did I really just find my mother unresponsive and close to death ....and then she perks up and asks for a toothpick?

I shook my head....this whole event went into the "I can't believe this " column ...which is getting mighty long.

"I need...."

"I need a drink," I said to myself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rubber girl

I wake up in the mornings now....not only unsure of what day it is....but also unsure of what will happen....

right now...I've given up on plans....plans were in the old days of my life....were you could say things like...."I'm going to go to work this week" or "this weekend I'm going to clean out the garage" or " I have a dentist appt on Tuesday."

No matter what I plan...or what I think I'm going to do....things are in a constant flux right now....

this week I drove up to Chicago because the plan was...to pick up my son for spring break.....have my daughter come in from Ohio.....and start working on my parent's house....detrashing.....starting to organize things.....even have a real estate agent look over the house.

But the day before I was scheduled to leave....my dad entered the hospital for pneumonia. I was with him till 4am ...so he could get through the emergency room process and get into a room.....then several hours behind I hit the road at 11am....assured that my family there could watch over him for the weekend....

I told my daughter not to fly in.....just Tom and I would work for the week .....and then on Monday.....I received two surreal phone calls.....

One from the hospital at 10am saying my father will be discharged to the nursing facility and the next call at 11am......from the nursing facility telling me the doctor had decided my mother's leg infection was worse and she needed to go to the hospital.

so literally.....my parents crossed each other on the freeway in ambulances traveling to and from the university medical center......

that was bizarre....so bizarre my family down there raised the white flag of surrender and said come back home.....so Tom and I are getting in the car in another hour or so and heading down south....

I simply shrug my shoulders at a 10 hour drive.....make sure I have an audio tape which will occupy me for about 6-8 hours.....adjust the rear view mirror....buckle the seat belt....and go.

My trusty dog Ozzie, who has accompanied me for several of these trips....also jumps in the car without hesitation ....he knows mid-trip an Arby's plain roast beef sandwich appears in a paper bag to gulp down.....a couple of exciting rest stops with the smells of hundreds of dogs are waiting for him ...and finally....when we're almost home...he knows if he stares at me licking my vanilla ice cream cone from McDonald's so hard ....I'll give in and give him half... What more could a dog ask for?

I feel like I'm turning into rubber band.....flex....change positions...cry...laugh....sleep here ....sleep there.....rethink this ...rethink that.....get rid of those thoughts....soak in new thoughts..... assess..... prioritize....what needs to be done right now?

And apparently what needs to be done right now....is hop in a car...and drive back home.

Okay...where's the car keys?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More.....

I am sitting here waiting for my phone to charge.

I will need it today.

I woke up....and for the first time in many weeks actually slept through the night. Although there is much stress with my parent's condition....I visit once or twice a day....my family visits also..... we have an eye on them in terms of their care and comfort. Everything is easier to handle when you are at home in your familiar surroundings.

I even had a chance to sit with my parent's cat for a while this morning...she is recovering in our bathroom. We had her spayed and declawed....she lived mostly in a cage by my mother's recliner in the den....a choice showing my mom's deteriorating mental status rather than true cruelty.

She doesn't know much about being a cat or getting lots of love and attention....so we decided to give her a chance in our household....I sat down on the plush carpet near the sink and she curled up on me and purred..... I felt happy and hopeful that there was a small part of the world coming together.

Then the phone rang....and the nurse from the nursing home called to talk to me. "We believe your mother had a slight stroke this morning."

"My mother?"

"Yes....it's mild but she is having difficulty using her right hand....and is wobbly on her feet. Her vitals are stable, we called the doctor."

I sat for about 5 minutes...trying to digest this....my mother had a small stroke.

I visited her late last night...she was already in bed and I tucked her in and kissed her....fully realizing our role reversal....me leaning over to kiss her good night....me tucking her in bed.

Her dementia may have been caused by multiple small strokes...this episode....might be a bigger manifestation of smaller events which have happened over the last couple years.

Still I am in awe at the slippery complicated slope we are on......

how everything is cascading....how there's no plateau yet....just new challenges to face.

A few more minutes.....a bit more charge in the cell.....and off I go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crossing the threshold.............

I feel like I've crossed some type of threshold the last few weeks.....like my heart and soul and character have moved into a new place.

.

I often feel I've had some type of Bar Mitzvah.....where I've walked over to the podium and proclaimed to the world that I am now an adult.....a particular type of adult.....an adult that has passed through bonding and babies and is now dealing with endings and dying.

.

I feel the circle of life in a unique way.....I am responsible for my children....and I am responsible for my parents.

.

I sense time and generations.

.

I am acutely aware that I span two different shores.....that I have seen and known my children's great grandparents.....and that my own children are forming bonds that may lead to marriage and babies of their own.

.

I have an intense desire to remember and write down what I've seen and heard....because as my father's breathing worsens and his body thins with only tube feedings....I am fully aware his voice is gone... and I am the only one left to write down who he was and what he did with his life.

.

It feels like such a solemn responsibility.....to gather the details....to spin the stories.....to push what I know of him forward to his grandchildren and perhaps their children.

.

I can see how you lose generations.

.

How so little can move forward on one level and how much moves forward on another.

.

Tonight my hub scraped my dad's inner cheeks for his DNA....for a piece of his code.... for genealogy testing.

.

Dad was always fascinated by these tests and I realized if we didn't do this now.....we would lose a portion of who we are.

.

This place I am in now.... feels a bit sacred.....I have reached a point....where I can sense the basics of wisdom.....I can look in each direction and see the feelings, trials and challenges of both the young and the old.

.

There should be some kind of ceremony for arriving at this point....some kind of feather you could wear in your hair or tattoo to mark you.....some party you should give for yourself to celebrate surviving and morphing into a bridge between generations.

.

I only pray that I am a strong bridge....like the beautiful ones I crossed in the Bay area of California....graceful....strong ....but able to sway and dance with wind.

Damn....I feel so grown up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A change of Positions.....

My parents house is dark and quiet except for the little orange night light on the kitchen table.

There's a couple of inches of fresh white fluffy snow .....creating this insulated.....womb-like feeling.....around the house.

My dad's wind chimes play sweetly outside the window......such pretty music seems to belong to summer instead of a cold winter night.

My parent's made it....they are safe and sound in a facility near my house....but my dad is not very responsive.....talk of physical therapy and speech therapy maybe just talk....not reality.

My dad is aware of people for short periods of time during the day ...he squeezes my hub's and son's hands.....and tries to say something with a mouth that will not obey him.

My mother is bored and wants to take a "streetcar" home....she has two quarters in her purse and constantly tries to bum another quarter from the staff so she can hit the road.

I feel like a thousand pound weight has been lifted off my shoulders....now that my parents are secure...but there is still so much to do .....with the house .....and the stuff of 40 years.....that I curl up mentally and wonder if it will all be settled some day.

I'll be here for a couple more days before I head down south....their finances ....such a mess I need a few more business days to visit banks and other financial institutions.

I have spent the entire day de-trashing my parent's kitchen....but I'm only half done .....with many more cabinets to explore.

My parents saved everything. In a dainty tea cup, I found my mom's hospital admission ID bracelets from 6 years ago......a large coffee mug stored every extra button from every blouse or shirt for years........6 giant soup ladles and 10 casserole dishes were cramped in another cabinet...even though my mother never cooked.

I talked to my cousin in Tampa, Florida tonight. She called my mother frequently.....between my story of my parents and other people's stories of my parents.....I am beginning to piece together who they were and how they lived their life...you would think a child would know their parents.....but that's not always the case.

My cousin tells me my mom cried and told her I never called and visited her.....I tell my cousin how my mother in two years never phoned me and how she told me not to visit her.....My cousin says my mother wondered why I hated her.... I tell my cousin I wonder why my mother hated me.....

I visit a friend of my parents to update her on their status..... she grabs my hand and tells me she has kept a secret for my mother for many years.

"You know your mom and I have been friends since kindergarten."

"Yes yes..."

"Well I'm going to be 88 in March"

I'm not sure why she is telling me this....until a bell rings and the logic part of my brain says....if my mother and her friend attended kindergarten together they are the same age.

"You're 88????"

"Yes ......and so is your mother."

"What?"

"But all her records say she's 80......all her documents say the same birth year."

"Your mother was clever and fixed them. This was before computers....you could hide things. She never wanted you or anyone to know your father had married an older woman. That's why you're an only child....your mother had you late in life."

"But...but...so what if she is older?"

"It was important to her..... even your own family kept quiet about it."

My mother 88 years old.

She looks damn good.....and always has......

I'm confused but.... it explains a lot.....my mother's constant irrational fear my dad would leave her for a younger woman....the thousands of jars of face creams......a basement full of exercise machines before any one had exercise machines.

My cousin warns me I will find out a lot of things about my parents.....she is ten years older than I am.....and perhaps knows more........there's a long pause between us .......she adds nothing.

It seems like my parents and I have switched places....they are safe and secure now......and I am the one who is disoriented and faltering.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hoping to see the light.........

I'm sitting here with a knot in my stomach.

It's going to be here for another 9 hours.

At 4:30 in the morning, I placed my parents....in a creamsicle orange and white ambulance and sent them 700 miles south to a nursing facility near my house.

My dad was discharged from the hospital on Tuesday and within 24 hours of being in a skilled nursing facility.....he was taken to the emergency room because he pulled his feeding tube out and later was found on the floor less than an hour after he returned to his room.

Scared and angry....and fearing the facility ....not the consequences of his stroke would kill him.....I called the social worker at a nursing home we eventually wanted to settle my parents in and pleaded with him.....find a way to get my parents down now.

Hours later.....there was a plan..... I grabbed my purse, my cellphone, my keys and my dog and drove back to Chicago.

I went to the each of my parent's facilities and signed papers and told my parents about the arrangement---an ambulance ride, a good facility near my home....and they could be together again.... share the same room. After 60 years of marriage.....I felt this was important and vital to their care and well-being.

They seemed happy.....my dad laughed when I told him he was headed down south....and my mom....well... she just wanted to be near my dad.

When the ambulance pulled away in the dark and rain.....I cried as I waved goodbye.....I cried because I hoped they would have a safe journey and because I have pulled them away from the city they were born in....the house they lived in....and the few friends they still have.

But even camped out here at their house, I found I couldn't manage the situation. I didn't know the area, the facilities, the reputations.....I didn't have connections....and Chicago is so big....I felt like I was a broker in an impersonal elderly meat market.....where there are thousands of little old folks like my parents.....needing help....needing care.....with scattered families.....and small sad stories.

I pulled them away but I also pulled them into something....a community.....which holds me and my family...our connections....and a solid university system ....to manage their health care.

My hub and son will meet them when they arrive .....I'll stay up here for a few days.....and begin to settle their house and estate.

I'll bring their TV and some small furniture down....and in a couple more weeks I'll haul down their favorite easy chairs....the pictures which hung on their bedroom walls .. the god-awful mechanical singing birds my mother seems to adore.....my dad's radio.

It is the beginning of a plan....my feeble attempt to stabilize their lives and mine............I feel an odd kinship to people who have gone through an earthquake.....oh the longing for the ground to be stable and for everything to stop shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the rollercoaster

I want out.

I want to get off the fucking roller coaster.

Up and down........there is no level ground.

Things change by the hour.

• I hold my father's hand and tell him I cooked up the turkey bacon in his refrigerator and have a massive heartburn....he laughs.....his blue blue eyes sparkling.....


• I get a phone call hours later that my father pulled out his IV, the tube into his bladder and the feeding tube they just placed in his stomach in the operating room.
  
  


• I 'm overjoyed to receive checks from the bank....yipeee I can pay my parent's bills.


• I talk to a bank representative and discover my parents may not have filed their income tax for the last two years.
  
  


• I leave Chicago Monday for a short stay at home....my dad has restraints on to protect the newly placed tubes.... I know they can't transfer him to a rehab unit in a nursing home until he is free of restraints for 24 hours....


• The hospital discharge coordinator calls me unexpectedly Tuesday and states he's ready for discharge.....I fuss and fight but am assured he has been fine without restraints....a couple of hours ago...the rehab unit calls....they're transferring him back to the hospital tonight.....he pulled out all his tubes.
  
  


• I find my mother's beloved diamond rings.


• I discover dad has carpeted the crawl space and there are at least 500 boxes stored under the house.
  
  


• I've installed broadband at my parent's house so I can now access the Internet.


• I discover I don't have the right link and authorization code and can't open my work email.
  
  


• I find social security checks scattered around the house and deposit them.


• I discover my parent's investment in stocks has totally tanked and a major part of their assets are gone.
  
  


• We find an excellent care facility that would accept mom and dad and allow them to stay in the same room.


• I realize there's no way I can work full time and resign from my job.

Up and down....back and forth.....

for every advance.....a retreat......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything

Everything is hard right now.

Picking glass shards out of the carpet where the fireman broke into the house.

Seeing my dad for the first time ....his mouth drawn sharply down to the side... his right arm limp...his blue blue eyes recessed and tired.

I thought my heart would shatter when I went to his bedside in the ICU for the first time ...he grabbed my hand with his good hand and tugged and tugged at it....till he brought it to his lips and kissed me.

I was sure I would die right then and there from the pain of it all.

Telling a stranger not to resuscitate your father is hard....this clean new young doctor stands there with his clipboard and his check list and I tell him what my father told me only three weeks ago ....don't do this don't do that....okay do this but not that.

My mother is hard. Cursing us when she was admitted to the hospital ....shouting to the people in the corridors that her daughter and son-in-law are here to steal her house and take her money.

Visiting mom in respite care in a "memory unit" is even harder....she sits upright in a chair with her jaunty white angora tam on her freshly combed gray hair ....clutching her black purse and tote bag filled with her belongings...waiting for a taxi which has not been called.

It's hard to be the last minute train wreck team....the people who talk to people and everyone arrives at the same horrible conclusion....mom and dad (if he lives) need to be transferred to care facilities near me....the house packed up and sold.

It's hard to touch their things....I can't do it yet....I can't touch their belongings and make decisions....how do I know if the cheap plastic angel has thousands of memories attached to it whereas the expensive Austrian crystal flowers are meaningless?

Finding things is hard too....the letter which says their secondary insurance for health care is terminated because the premiums weren't paid.....dad's beautiful watch in a brown paper sack hidden among some old Christmas cards in a shoe box.

And it's hard to be home...my home....less than 8 hours till morning....when I will put a few things in the car....including my dog Ozzie....and go up there to live for a couple weeks? a couple months?



The only thing which has been easy......is sitting with dad.

He squeezes my hand when he's awake....hard ...soft...like Morse code....and I squeeze back .....hard soft to match....he looks at me....I smile and nod....he can't speak....I don't say much....we just sit and hold hands in a very quiet hospital room....and for those moments.....

I am deeply deeply grateful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So it's here....

The train wreck is here.

My father had a massive stroke this morning.

My mother in her dementia would not let the paramedics in.....they broke through a window.

I'm headed for a flight to Chicago....cellphone, laptop, credit cards, checks, notebooks, legal papers.

The calvalry with its strange armory.

I cannot imagine looking at my dad....my good kind father....they tell me he is aphasic.

I have begged the hospital to admit my mother and finally get her dementia evaluated since she is a danger to herself alone and my plane won't arrive till late.

Funny...how your life can turn so suddenly.

All that live, love, connect, play enjoy crap.....well at this moment...I think how true...how very very true.
~~~~~~~~~

Rid yourself of Heartbreak with a Lysol Douche

A friend sent me this....an old ad for Lysol.

The amount of commentary is so staggering.....I decided to just type the orginal ad below and allow you to enjoy your own thoughts.

Day after heartbreaking day I was held in an unyielding web...a web spun by my husband’s indifference. I couldn’t reach him any more! Was the fault mine?

Well...thinking you know about feminine hygiene, yet trusting to now-and-then care, can make all the difference in married happiness, as my doctor pointed out. He said never to run such careless risks....prescribed “Lysol” brand disinfectant for douching—always.

Oh, the joy of finding Tom’s love and close companionship once more! Believe me, I follow to the letter my doctor’s advice on feminine hygiene....always use “Lysol” for douching. I wouldn’t be satisfied now with salt, soda or other homemade solutions! Not with “Lysol,” a proved germ-killer that cleanses so gently yet so thoroughly. It’s easy to use, too, and economical. The very best part is-“Lysol” really works!

~~~~~~

Another reason why I can't buy a new 3g Iphone

I promised myself months ago I wouldn't buy a new upgraded iPhone because of the applications.

They scare me.

It's not that I'm afraid to use them.....I'm afraid I'll use them all the time.

This fear found a home in me when I was at a board meeting.

My colleague, sitting next to me, pulled out her iPhone and starting waving it around under the table we were sitting at....it sounded exactly like the light sabers used in Star Wars.

I asked her to stop swishing her phone around.... because I knew I would grab it and and wave it at the pontificating board member across the room in a futile effort to severe his head from his torso.

Right then I vowed ...."No upgraded phone for Gina."

It's made life easier.... as people tell me about their cool applications...I mentally go "lah lah lah" and ignore the input.

Today...more fuel for my resolution.

Although I would never have the talent to play this application ....knowing it exists is just another reason my current old iPhone must last into the next century.

Please note: he is blowing into his phone..and simply pressing the touch screen.

Everybody who was at the party has their own version of this picture......

Finally some Fun!

Damn.....all I've been doing is working and worrying....

but tonight....I've got a party to go to....

a fundraiser....but it doesn't matter....it's out....it's with people I know....and they better have drinks and I heard they had music. Hub isn't going and he doesnt' dance so I'll grab whomever...just going swing my little ...well....you know what word goes here...lol

On the way home to get dressed up....heard this rap song....and now can't get it out of my head.....but hey....it's a great song to get dressed to....now where are those spike high heels?

Whatever You Like - TI

I found a Magic Weenie..............

I found a Magic Weenie.

It was in a bookcase I was rearranging.

Dusty....forgotten.

We got this from the Oscar Meyer Weenier truck which passed through our small California town when the kids were little....in other words....a long long time ago.

I dusted the weenie off.....and blew into it........

.

Ozzie, my male dog, immediately ran up to me.

.

"What? " My husband shouted a second later.

.

Hmmmmm.....it seems to attract males.

.

So I blew it again....forcefully.

.

The dog squeaked and wagged his tail.

.

My husband growled from the other room, "Do you need something ?"

.

Whoa.

.

I'm not sure what to use it for.....perhaps I could blow into it when none of the guys are home and all their socks would emerge from all the nooks and corners of our house and line up in a row.

.

Hmmmm.....perhaps I could blow it while driving to work......would men in their cars all line up next to me and create a special Gina motorcade?

.

Hmmmm.....what if I blew it at work....would it sift the genders like a colander.....men all gathered round me........women left somewhere else in the store?

.

What if I climbed the little mountain near my house....and stood on top and blew it so the winds would carry the sounds far far away.

.

Would every man I've known feel an irresistible urge to come down south and find me?

.

Wow.

.

I placed it inside a little box on my desk until I can figure out what to do with it.

~~~~~~~

A few of the songs I discovered.....

Many the Miles - Sara Bareilles

~~~~~~~~~~

brick - ben folds five
~~~

Ill Sing A Love Song To You - Candi Staton