Why am I so Mad??

Well, I''ll just tell ya, yep, that's what I''l do! Seems FS and DD's brother came sneaking up here to visit our Mother. What's the big deal about that? After all, I can't keep him from his 'Mama', he is her son, after all... Isn't it nice that a son drives 650 miles to see his Mother?

Of course it is. VERY sweet, in fact. So why am I so Mad about it?

This hot, seething anger goes back a little ways, so I'll begin back there:

He was coming up here and staying a month at a time to 'help' me take care of her when she was living with me. Time away from his loving wife, home, all that. Sweet, really nice of the guy, of course. How many people drop their lives to take care of a person who dropped us so many years ago?

Oh yeah, I did just that, didn't I? Quit two jobs and threw my career to the wind to take care of her. So who's sweeter, him or me? After all, he didn't quit a job for her.. But that's not the point.
What is the point, why am I so Mad about a son dropping and running to see his 'Mama'?
I'm so Mad because for every trip he made up here, Mom coughed up around 600 buckaroos for him, travel expenses, cigarettes, food, ok, I was sorta ok with that, it was her money and her choice.
So, how helpful was he? He did bust his butt to build her a wheel chair ramp. A neighbor and I helped him, it was never completed but it was functional.. that was nice too...

AND he made a mess in the house, sent me to the store for his special foods, "I want THIS brand, not what you bought" and "I have to have THIS kind of cereal" and of course a carton of cigarettes every 4th or 5th day.. Oh, and don't forget, "I'm stuck in this house with Mom while you run to the store every few days, that's not fair"..... I offered him (yet) MORE money to go to the park, eat out, go to the store, get out of the house. I guess complaining was more fun than going out for a free restaurant meal gas money included... Yeah, I was Miffed, but not Mad, not yet anyway.

What made me mad was the bottle of whisky, the huge coffee can full of pain pills, the beautiful day and night sleep they afforded him, and the fact that his bucket of pills weren't enough, he had to slip his nasty hands into our Mother's pain pills too, then lie about it. NOW I was getting
MAD.
I gave him money and sent him home, never let him come back again. He's Mad at me for that. Oh well, bud, sucks to be you. His wife got on the phone with me to remind me that I can't keep him away from his 'Mama" and that he was depressed. I should have told her what I was thinking, but I was too nice. Always too nice..... I should have told her that she's married to a pill-popping lazy mooch and if he got a job maybe he wouldn't be so "Deprayussed". (Maybe the world should be Depraved but I digress..

So I calls him and tells him Mom isn't doing so well and maybe he should think about coming to see her soon. Answer? "I don't have any Moneeeeyyyyy, You need to send me Moneeeeyyyy".

Eye Roll here, well, maybe Eye Roll along with a heavy Sigh.. Ok, I tell him I'll take a day or two and figure out a way to provide him with a {all expense paid vacation} way to get here.
I called my other brother who lives a few hours south of moocher, oops, above mentioned brother, (must be a typo in the end of my fingers..) and other brother says he will pick up mooc, I mean above mentioned brother and let him ride along next weekend.

Since I don't have travel dates yet, I didn't call poor pitiful {yes, I'm Mad} brother and let him know he's the proud winner of an all expense paid weekend get-away to Tennessee.
Seems Moocher, let-my-wife-support-me-and clean-up-after-me lazy pill popping brother suddenly must have won the lottery, because, GUESS WHAT? He's here in Tennessee.
Problem? He snuck up here and never let me off the hook of finding his all expense paid way up here.

So, words that come to mind... Sneak, Liar, Mooch, Trouble Maker, and Money Grubber. Pill Popper, Cry Baby, I'm not Mad because he came to see the Maternal Figure as she lies dying in the bed, I'm Mad because of all of the above-mentioned. And you know what? If he upsets Mom like he did on the phone, I'm gonna be more than Mad, I'm going to zoom right up to PISSED OFF. Guess I should leave the gun home, huh?

Confused?? !!!

Life can be confusing... take my new job for example. Too many hands in the vegetable patch. I have a boss/owner. I have a farm manager, old fella, he is, all of about 25. I have a Chicken manager, young thing, pretty girl, tom-boyish type, all of 22.

I like her, hard worker, talker, she is, stories upon stories. "I've been to Hawaii" and "My niece and nephew are the best things since sliced bread", "Wanna hear my life's story? Great, my dad, my mother, my grandma, blah, blah". Great girl, I like her.

I'll start the story with her. She's worked there for a year, got promoted (if you can call it that) to supervisor over the chickens. Now, she KNOWS her job, does it well, and works her tail off. Explains what she wants her underlings to do in very clear terms, gets tough on the ones that want to goof off, yeah, I like her. I wonder if she's related to me? She's about as bossy as I am! Yup, I like her a lot. She got a day off, after working every day for two weeks straight. She got a ride to her sisters house, which is something like 80 miles from her car and her house. Mr. Farm Manager called her three, count-em, THREE times on her day off, doubted her honesty about where she was and what she was doing, made her cry three, count-em, THREE times that day. Why did he do that? He wanted her to come in NOW on her day off. Creep.

Speaking of three, I'll move on to my three, count-em THREE supervisors I had to deal with on Saturday. Mr. Farm Manager told me to work with supervisor One. Ok, One-guy is cool, gave me things to do, explained clearly what he wanted, we worked well together for about 1/2 and hour, until Mr. Hot-Shot Farm Manager came along, asked me what I was doing. Upon hearing my answer, his reply was that I wasn't to do things the way Mr. One told me, I was to do things HIS (Hot Shot's) way. OOOKAAAY. One went away dejected.

THEN supervisor Two comes along, asks me what I'm doing, I explain and get, "I'm running this operation, don't listen to anyone but me".

Great. Who's in charge here anyway? I looked around at the dozen or so people trying to get the job done, and I saw Organized Chaos. It took us about 12 hours to get 6 hours of work done. I've only been on the job one week and I'm flat-out exhausted.

I HATE, HATE, HATE to quit a job. Especially after one week. I think I'm going to end up doing just what I hate. These people are gonna kill me, either from stress or exhaustion.

I came home and checked my plants, the ones I planted in those new topsy turvy things, I feel like those plants, wondering which way is up..

Now I'm a tough cookie, see me on my brother's Harley. (Heh, looks like I'm riding, huh?), I can deal with confused plants, not confused people in the work place..
AND my cat hates me for leaving him every day. SHEESH!!!!

Cats, trees and panic

It's been an eventful day, the cat woke up at his usual ungodly hour, about 5:15. Seeing I was wasting a good day snoozing, he decided to wake me up, like he does every morning.
I feel a paw tap my forehead, he nuzzles my hair, 'mrrrrow'? he asks.

'Go 'way', I mumble to him. OH! She spoke to me! 'Mrrrrrowwww', he nuzzles and says with all the love he can muster. 'Go 'way', I mumble again. He bites my neck, ever so gently, purrr, purrrr, mrowwww, '"OK! Outside? Let's go outside", I tell him.

Goody goody gumdrops, she's up! HEY, it's dark out here, Hey, hey, you're on the wrong side of the door!! He looks back at me as I shut the door and head for the bed. I'm NOT getting up to play 'chase the string' at this hour today!!

I flopped on the bed and slept peacefully for another 2 hours. Mmmm, coffee, I feel so rested. I wonder out on the porch, still in my jammies to drink my coffee and enjoy a wonderfully warm morning. ( I live in 1850 so I can sit on the porch in my jammies).

As I settled in my rocking chair and prepare my ears to hear the birds singing I hear this desparate, frightened "Rowwwllll???" "Meoww?!!" Translated: "Help me, Help me, I'm hurt/dying/beatup/run over by a car/being eaten by a giant rabbit"!!!!!!

"C'mere Smoke" I call. Desperate MEOWW comes back from across the road. Aw, geez, what am I going to find, blood, guts, broken limbs, bones hanging out, gory images running through my mind as I wonder out into the road calling my dear dying cat. (Oh, yeah, I'm still in my jammies and barefoot).

As I stood on the double yellow line in the middle of the road, a new and equally frightening thought runs through my head; The men in the white coats and a huge butterfly net are going to come along and the last thing I'll hear is "Got Her"!

Ok, cat's going to have to die alone or wait for me to get dressed. "Smoke", I call, "I'll be right back". A panicked "Don't leave me!" howl follows me across the yard as I head back to the house. Good grief, how ugly is this going to be when I get back and find a furry bloody mess?

I rushed in, threw some cloths and shoes on and came back out, starting across the road, still calling for my dear kitty, his panicked screams still rushing out of the woods. I don't see him, should I go in? What if there's a dinosaur over there eating him alive? What if I become desert?

"Smokey", I called, my eyes traveling over the weeds, trying to see in the jungle where the crying was... Oh, look UP, what's that in the tree? It sounds really big, should I run for my life?

"Mrowwwww?" the cat asks as I back up. Oh, that's HIM coming down, dumb cat, got himself treed!!!! He found the ground and ran full speed for me, was that really my cat? Wasn't sure, he looked bigger, oh, he's puffed out! I don't know what treed him or why he had his fur standing straight up but at least he was alive and in one piece. Never a dull moment with that cat! Gotta love him!

Gas is good

I guess this story starts at a panera bread, where I sat with a friend eating broccoli and cheese soup washed down with 1/2 an ham and cheese sandwich. MMM, mmm, good, except now my mouth feels funny, some kind of lump.... Oh, CRAP, I broke a tooth.

Must have been that crunchy soup.. oh, maybe the crunch was my tooth part going down..

Hey, calcium for the day, right? I spent the rest of the weekend trying not to slice and dice, and consequently, eat my tongue on the sharp edge of what remained of my tooth.

Fast forward about 850 miles, (I broke the tooth on an away trip for Easter), sitting on the edge of Mom's bed in the nursing home. Telling her I broke a tooth and have an appointment the next morning so I might not make it in to see the the next day.

Response?

"Bring me some more books on tape." "The food is horrible here, I haven't eaten in days, bring me food." "Bring me batteries for my radio"

MOM, I'll be feeling like CRAP tomorrow, I might not make it!! Answer? "Take a nap in the car before you come here, and don't forget my books on tape..... Bring me some hot soup, too".

OHHHH! Yeah, dummy, THIS IS WHY SHE IS IN A NURSING HOME!!! The woman has no heart for other's needs. I don't think she ever has... Ok, maybe that's harsh. But being awakened at 3am to change the channel on the tv makes a person a little rough around the edges. Grrrr.

So I went to the dentist this morning, quaking in my brave truck-driver boots. (please don't hurt me, Mr. Dentist, please, please??)

Mr. Dentist was so nice, he told his assistant to give me some gas. (Is that why they all wear masks? Oh, wrong kind of gas..)

The mask goes on and I hear the assistant say something like "better you breathing this stuff than me." What The F*** Does That Mean??? I don't care, I'm scared, I'm scared and I'm scared. I have a terrible allergy to pain, needles and the little drilling sound in my mouth that translates like a oil rig digging 7 miles deep. So go ahead, gas me, if I die, I won't have to get my tooth fixed.

I started to relax, and my mind went to Kirsty Alley in the movie "Look Who's Talking". She is laying on the birthing table (I'm laying on the torture table), she's in pain, (I'm in pain), she wants the pain to stop, ( well, DUH!) and they give her something for pain. (Me too, don't forget about meeeee!)

Her eyes get dreamy, her body relaxes, "Ah, " Kirsty and I say together, "that's so much better".

I thought for a moment I would be able to sleep through the whole thing, 3 and 1/2 hours of drilling, grinding, more shots, shivering cold from the gas, open wide, a little pressure, turn right..... The words are far away. Is the buzzing I hear in my head or around my head? I don't know... I think I dozed, not sure. Now I'm home, had my extended nap, I haven't found my face yet but I'm sure it's there....

Mom left a message for me to bring her batteries. Sorry Mom, you have batteries in your drawer there, I'm in my pajama's and staying that way.

HOT MAMA

Well, I went to see Mom today at the nursing home. She wasn't in her room but a quick check on my watch told me it was smoke hour so I bee-lined it to the smoke room, and, lo, there she was, head to head with her new friend Vi. Wait.... did I say new friend? I though Mom didn't make friends?! Let alone become friendly enough to be leaning towards her new friend (WHAT?) and gossiping.

Now, wait, dear reader, this is not a fiction story, this is the Gawd-Awful Truth!

"Hi Mom" I sing as I come in, feeling my way through the blue air in the six by six room. There are 4 people in the room, all puffing away and, wait for it, wait, wait for it....

Gossiping. NO, really! 'Did you hear about the old lady that went out on a stretcher today?' was one thing I [think] I heard as I peered through the smoke.

"Oh, is that you, thing one, I mean thing three?" (truth is she said our names but I digress)
"It's me, Mom" I answer. "Oh, Vi and I were just talking about you!". I'm thinking for the gazillianth time, what did they do with my real mother and I respond, "I hope it was all good!"

New-Friend-Vi responds "It was all good!" snerk, giggle, puff, slobber, "can you put my ciggarette out?" askes one of the human chimneys, DC. I dutifully put his cig out in the ashtray while Mom says "Mr. Thurmon pushes my wheel chair sometimes, don't you Mr. Thurmon? Is he in here?"

"Uh, yeah, he's sitting in the corner, Mom," I say. Mom says, sort of primping-like, "He pushes my wheel chair sometimes" again.

I look at the nurse standing guard at the door, questioning with my eyes, 'what did you do with my mother? I shrug, she shrugs.

"Mr. Thurmon, do you push Mom's wheel chair for her?" I ask the old guy. He has a four claw cane sitting beside him, never heard him say much although he did sing 'In the Garden' with me on Friday..

"Yuh" he says. I look at Mom, she's still primping. She actually LIKES it that Mr. Thurmon pushes her wheel chair! Oh, wait, there's more. Wait for it.....

"DC pushes my chair too sometimes," says this little old lady I don't really know with a smile on her face.

"I guess these men like pushing a good looking lady's chair down the hall, huh, Mom?" No answer, just more primping.

"Here, put my cig out and lets go back to the room". I guess the flirt moment was over. She calls out over her shoulder to her New-Friend-Vi, "See you in an hour, Vi!"

Maybe I'll wake up soon, maybe I don't want to.... The other day she said she hated womens sports. "Why?" asks the dumb daughter in ALL innocence. Answer? Because she doesn't like all that stuff flopping around (under their shirts) when they run. WTF? (Who are you, lady, cause you're not my prim and proper mother, you know, the one who scolds ME for having a POTTY mouth??!!)

Oh, I am so dumb, I ask her if she likes Men's sports. OMG, I got an answer. "Oh, yes, they have more interesting stuff flopping around."

Ok. Whatever. At least it was a happy visit!

Instant slow motion

I got up this morning with a list of things I needed to do for the maternal figure. Gather some short sleeve shirts, some tapes, writing paper, sweat shirts. The cloths needed to be washed so like the dutiful daughter (pre-teen eye roll here) I am, I started the wash.

I love doing the wash, no, really, I love doing the wash. I use a wringer washer dated sometime in the '40's and it still works like a charm. I'm dated sometime in the '50's and I wish I worked that well! But I digress:

Got the first load washed, wrung, rinsed and wrung again, stuffed a basket of cloths under my arm and grabbed a bucket of cloths pins. I'm such a good daughter. (pre-teen eye roll here).

The weather channel told me it was 54 degrees out there. That's 32 degrees above freezing.

So, I'm wondering how I managed to go skiing on the back steps that defied the thermometer and remained icy....

It happened so fast! Well, the knowledge that I was on a slippery slope happened fast. Once it was in my head that I was going to get from the top of the porch to the ground at lightning speed, time went instantly into slow-mo.

The whole deal was pretty slick. No, not slippery slick, well, yeah, slippery slick. Let me try again.

The whole deal was pretty cool! Hmm, Well, DUH, things can be icy only if it's cool. Let me try again.

I pulled this fall off pretty well. Hmm, well, no, gravity pulled me down.......

ANYWAY! My heal slipped on the top step and from there my heal slipped of each step until my foot hit the ground. So, Mr. Gravity, you pulled me down the steps but I stayed upright all the way down! But, the ground must not have had the same weather information the steps had, because the ground was NOT slippery. The ground seemed to be acting as though it really was 54 degrees out, so as a result, my foot STOPPED moving as soon as it hit the {warm} HUH? ground.

That's when gravity won the battle with me. But fear not, I won the war on this fall, I jumped up, looked around to make sure I wasn't SEEN by anyone and then looked to see how bad the laundry and cloths pins fared.

The laundry basket was sitting innocently, full, not dirty, as though I put it down gently. HUH! The cloths pins didn't do so well. As I was S-L-O-W-L-Y sliding bump, bump, bump down the stairs (at lightning speed), I found enough time to notice that my cloths pins were jumping out of the bucket like rats jumping off a sinking ship.

So I survived a 4 and a half foot drop that had 4 boards in the way that could have... oh I don't want to think of how those stair/boards could have hurt me, and came out of it with a few bruises, a bucket of scattered cloths pins and a bunch of wounded pride.

Rafting on Family Rapids

Riding a raft sounds like a lot of fun until you find yourself on someone elses raft. Friday I found myself riding the rapids that only a certain maternally biologically connected person can produce.

Seems I'm the most UN trustworthy person in the whole wide world. I'm a thief and a liar. For these great titles (great if you are Baby Face Nelson) I have boxed up and stored my entire way of life for the past eight months. I greatly feared finding myself out in some unmanageable storm for dropping everything and making a marathon run to New Mexico. I did it anyway.

Why? I've been asked that question by everyone from Hospice to my neighbor to myself.

Why? Only answer I can come up with is that I wanted desperately to fix something I thought was broken. A relationship. Well, after I get done beating myself up for trying to fix the world....... (How old am I? How many times have I tried to fix other people? When will I learn?) I woke up to a friday from hell.

Woke up is the key word here... I had to take about 3 and a half days off just to get my temper/sadness/hurt under control. Ok. I'm better, right? Nooooooo. Well, yeah, oh, HELL and DAMNATION, I will survive this but I ain't liking it a single bit right now.

So. I picked two really pretty flowers that bloomed in my yard and after steeling myself got in the car and drove back to the nursing home. Feeling.... well, feeling guilty as Baby Face Nelson should have felt. You see, FS got a call from little ol lonely lady this morning and FS had to cry alone. What a shit I felt like, I felt like I dumped the whole world in FS's lap and went to a party without a care in the world.

With a pounding heart and emotions like lava flowing down the mountain into the sea I took my flowers and entered lonely lil' ol' lady's room with a bright "Hi there!"

Alec Trebbec waited patiently to find out the answer to his bonus question: Bing, bing, bing bing... the music goes. Answer, "What is a woman happy to see a family member'?

Correct! You win the round! "OH! Is that you?" Yeah, yeah, it's me, are you mean or nice today? Are you a good witch or a bad witch? I'm such a coward and if I only had a brain....

She was a good witch today, loved the flowers, "Take me outside for a cig." "Get this, do that, bring this from home, take that home with you". Hmmm. all is well on the front lines.
Sort of.

She has a teddy hanging on the door, it's a big, blue, fuzzy, soft bunny. I took it down so she could feel it. To my great surprise, she hugged it, kissed it and hugged it again. Now she's a typical lil' ol' lady in a nursing home joining the ranks of women holding baby dolls and teddy's. I don't get it, she's my mother. Never did mushy stuff. Hey Nurse, Whadya do with my mother?

I asked the nurse to give her the big, blue, fuzzy, soft bunny to her when they get done using it for an easter decoration on her door. They said they would.

All is well on Tuesday. Wonder what Wednesday, or Friday will bring? Life on the edge. Never a dull moment!