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luciabIt’s been a slow day in Lake Woebegone. What a relief…. we went to dinner at the world famous Red Lobster (it would have been “lunch” to most people) and came back home to drop Daddy off, pick up checks that needed to be cashed, etc, etc. Then Mother and I went back out to Wally World for such earth-shaking necessities as hair spray.
I don’t seem to understand somehow that it’s Christmas. I’ve ordered some stuff online, but beyond that…. it just hasn’t sunk in yet. Weird. I have little or no interest in shopping for a couple of people I’m supposed to shop for, because they don’t ever (a) think to get anything at all for me or (b) appreciate or even thank me for what I get them. Not that it’s supposed to be tit for tat, but let’s think like a Method Actor here for a moment…. what’s my motivation? I know, that’s terribly tacky of me. Too bad. I may have to fulfill some obligation by writing a check, but I don’t see any reason to waste a bunch of time worrying about thinking of exactly the right thing and then fighting my way through crowds to find it. The hell with that noise. I think a lot of the reason I used to get excited was that Mother seemed to enjoy it so much, but she’s been taking it a lot easier the last few years, so even that source of contagious excitement is gone. Maybe the Grinch made off with my heart or something.
Mother and Daddy’s friends have really been wonderful to them since Daddy’s been out of commission. People come by to take Mother shopping, bring food, and just generally help out. One of the most entertaining stories was that Daddy had been sitting in the floor last week, working on putting together the tree for the front porch (yeah, I thought it was a bit much myself; remember when I called him a stubborn old coot? He still is.) Anyway, he couldn’t get up. He and Mother tried everything they could think of, to no avail. Finally, over Daddy’s vociferous objections, Mother called 911. They came out, and while one of the EMTs helped Daddy up onto the sofa, the other one sat down in the floor and started untangling the wires and putting the rest of the tree together. Never said a word about what they were doing, they just finished putting the tree together. When it was done, one said casually, “Now, where were you wanting to put this?” and they carried it out to the porch, set it up and plugged it in. And that, in a nutshell, is the good thing about living in a small town. Mother’s been laughing ever since about calling 911 and having them set up the tree.
Daddy has been having some pain in the unbroken hip and it is worrying his physical therapist—Dad has fallen a couple of times since he’s been home, but they’ve X-rayed and found no damage. Still, the hip hurts him. The doc mentioned that it might be back trouble but his answers to the PT’s questions made her doubt that is the case. His toes still aren’t lifting right, either. The PT asked him if the exercise was causing him pain and he finally admitted “Yeah, a little.” So, she asked, was it closer to a 1 or a 10? “Weeeeellllll, maybe a six. Or a seven.” Did I mention that he’s a stubborn old coot who won’t ever admit to being in pain? Amy has done a couple of test things to try to figure out why he can’t lift his toes; she and the other PT sort of suspect that the surgeon screwed up. It’s rare to have this kind of complication, but not unheard of. Amy fears it won’t get any better.
Amy has also noticed his vagueness—she made a comment about his wanting to drive and suddenly I realized how vague he has been and thus, what a bad, bad idea it would be for him to drive. The PT also noted that if Daddy can drive, he won’t be eligible for home care any more, which would be a big problem.
In less serious news, the gigantic jigsaw puzzle that the Daniels brought is still on the dining room table—the finished puzzle is supposed to be about 26x38”, and the pieces, all spread out, cover the entire table. This sucker is absolutely NOT going to get done. We are thrilled that we have most of the edges done—we think there are 2-4 pieces that aren’t in place, but we have had no luck finding them among the rest of the 2,000 pieces. And we have one edge piece that we are certain is a ringer—we can’t find anyplace it could possibly go.
I got my camera today. Whee! It’s got all kinds of cool things on it, including an LED display that pivots out away from the camera body so you can shoot in funny corners without breaking your neck to see what the picture would be. I’ve been exploring, in between reading Anansi Boys (Do you call it “re-reading” if you listened to it on Audio Books the first time instead of reading pages?) and gazing dispiritedly at The Puzzle That Will Never Be Completed. I’ve gotten a couple of nice shots of Mother and Daddy. Mother has gotten so much less tense than she used to be…. she didn’t even yell at me for snapping a photo of her in her robe.
I’m going to try one more time to get online (I’m just composing now) and then to bed.
I don’t seem to understand somehow that it’s Christmas. I’ve ordered some stuff online, but beyond that…. it just hasn’t sunk in yet. Weird. I have little or no interest in shopping for a couple of people I’m supposed to shop for, because they don’t ever (a) think to get anything at all for me or (b) appreciate or even thank me for what I get them. Not that it’s supposed to be tit for tat, but let’s think like a Method Actor here for a moment…. what’s my motivation? I know, that’s terribly tacky of me. Too bad. I may have to fulfill some obligation by writing a check, but I don’t see any reason to waste a bunch of time worrying about thinking of exactly the right thing and then fighting my way through crowds to find it. The hell with that noise. I think a lot of the reason I used to get excited was that Mother seemed to enjoy it so much, but she’s been taking it a lot easier the last few years, so even that source of contagious excitement is gone. Maybe the Grinch made off with my heart or something.
Mother and Daddy’s friends have really been wonderful to them since Daddy’s been out of commission. People come by to take Mother shopping, bring food, and just generally help out. One of the most entertaining stories was that Daddy had been sitting in the floor last week, working on putting together the tree for the front porch (yeah, I thought it was a bit much myself; remember when I called him a stubborn old coot? He still is.) Anyway, he couldn’t get up. He and Mother tried everything they could think of, to no avail. Finally, over Daddy’s vociferous objections, Mother called 911. They came out, and while one of the EMTs helped Daddy up onto the sofa, the other one sat down in the floor and started untangling the wires and putting the rest of the tree together. Never said a word about what they were doing, they just finished putting the tree together. When it was done, one said casually, “Now, where were you wanting to put this?” and they carried it out to the porch, set it up and plugged it in. And that, in a nutshell, is the good thing about living in a small town. Mother’s been laughing ever since about calling 911 and having them set up the tree.
Daddy has been having some pain in the unbroken hip and it is worrying his physical therapist—Dad has fallen a couple of times since he’s been home, but they’ve X-rayed and found no damage. Still, the hip hurts him. The doc mentioned that it might be back trouble but his answers to the PT’s questions made her doubt that is the case. His toes still aren’t lifting right, either. The PT asked him if the exercise was causing him pain and he finally admitted “Yeah, a little.” So, she asked, was it closer to a 1 or a 10? “Weeeeellllll, maybe a six. Or a seven.” Did I mention that he’s a stubborn old coot who won’t ever admit to being in pain? Amy has done a couple of test things to try to figure out why he can’t lift his toes; she and the other PT sort of suspect that the surgeon screwed up. It’s rare to have this kind of complication, but not unheard of. Amy fears it won’t get any better.
Amy has also noticed his vagueness—she made a comment about his wanting to drive and suddenly I realized how vague he has been and thus, what a bad, bad idea it would be for him to drive. The PT also noted that if Daddy can drive, he won’t be eligible for home care any more, which would be a big problem.
In less serious news, the gigantic jigsaw puzzle that the Daniels brought is still on the dining room table—the finished puzzle is supposed to be about 26x38”, and the pieces, all spread out, cover the entire table. This sucker is absolutely NOT going to get done. We are thrilled that we have most of the edges done—we think there are 2-4 pieces that aren’t in place, but we have had no luck finding them among the rest of the 2,000 pieces. And we have one edge piece that we are certain is a ringer—we can’t find anyplace it could possibly go.
I got my camera today. Whee! It’s got all kinds of cool things on it, including an LED display that pivots out away from the camera body so you can shoot in funny corners without breaking your neck to see what the picture would be. I’ve been exploring, in between reading Anansi Boys (Do you call it “re-reading” if you listened to it on Audio Books the first time instead of reading pages?) and gazing dispiritedly at The Puzzle That Will Never Be Completed. I’ve gotten a couple of nice shots of Mother and Daddy. Mother has gotten so much less tense than she used to be…. she didn’t even yell at me for snapping a photo of her in her robe.
I’m going to try one more time to get online (I’m just composing now) and then to bed.
