I was talking to Angela (eldest child) today and she complained she was double and triple booked every day this week. Meee Tooo! How does that happen? As I'm dashing from Point A to Point B to Point...XYZ, I'm praying that I don't hurt myself or anyone else, and I'm thinking about margin. You know, that edge around the paper that you don't fill up? That white space that makes documents readable? I need more white space.
Do you remember back a few months ago when I said my husband owed me jewelry? Did I tell you about that? Well, today a beautiful necklace came in the mail. It was in an envelope addressed to me, so it's not like I was snooping. I just opened it and out popped a cute little box with a tag that said "from Mark". I love the necklace. I was serious when I told him that I would like to find out if "gifts" is my love language. I'm thinking I could be converted from "acts of service".
My sister and I are doing the flowers for a friend's wedding Saturday. Today I went and picked up two huge boxes of fresh flowers, rushed them home and put them in water. They are gorgeous. I could live surrounded by flowers all the time. Too bad they are a) expensive and b) not likely to be growing in my non-existent garden any time soon. I want to live in a world where fresh flowers are on my table every day. I've read about that kind of life in old English novels, where women spend their days doing embroidery, playing the piano and arranging flowers cut from the garden. If I were in an old English novel I'd probably be the scullery maid.
My precious Mother-in-law (MPML) had her knee replaced on Monday and is a bit dazed and confused during her time in the hospital. I hate the word dementia. Isn't there a more pleasant way to discuss loss of memory and problems with confusion? If you know one, let me know. There's nothing pleasant at all about someone precious to you struggling along in an alternate universe of the mind. She is increasingly in that universe and I am sad to see it.
MPML has bonded with Winnie, our dog, during this first month of our living all together. Winnie has been moping around the house since MPML left for the hospital. To make herself feel better, Winnie has been channeling Goldilocks and trying out all the chairs in the house while we're gone.
I think I'll go to bed and dream about living in a world filled with white space and flowers, and mothers-in-law and golden retrievers reunited.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Boot Scootin' Boogie Buggie
July is almost over and it has been CRAZY. KRAY-ZEE. CU.RAE.ZIE. It has been a wild ride and it's not over yet. The old house in Bethany is sold and we close in a few weeks, but we're still doing the repair things on the buyer's list. And we haven't moved our furniture out of there, but we don't have the heart to ask for any one's help because we've already moved too much too many times.
I'm thinking that hiring a few college boys when the time comes might be a good idea. Aren't they usually hungry and willing to move heavy stuff for a pizza and some cash? Personally, I've never met such college boys. But I hear they exist. Maybe we're looking in the wrong place. Maybe I should go ask the guy who stands in front of the pizza place with the big sign, dancing to the music in his head, no matter the weather. I bet he would move some furniture for cash. Most college boys just aren't hungry enough for manual labor.
Just call me middle aged and cranky. Go ahead, do it. I probably won't hear you.
Oh, I was about to sign off when I realized the "Boot Scootin' Boogie Buggie" was still hanging out there in the blog title. Angela and I saw that stenciled on a van at the Guymon Senior Center last week. I was reminded of it this morning as Mark and my father-in-law were scooting my mother-in-law out the door on their way to get her knee replaced. I think that's what I'll call their van from now on. Maybe after her knee surgery, my mother-in-law can do some boot scootin' and boogieing of her own. Prayers are appreciated.
Friday, July 17, 2009
A very lame blog entry
See the explosions up there on my blog header? That will be my head soon. But hey, things are moving along. This will be the summer forever referred to as "That summer we all traded places". In-laws to Oklahoma and new house, us to aforementioned new house, Tessa to apartment in college town, us out of old house after we close on the sale. All this in 105 degrees.
Yes, I'm still alive. No, I have not forgotten you. Maybe, I will find the will to do something other than drag my aching body into bed and out again each day.
Love ya, miss ya!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
empty nest empathy
My sister called last night just to talk to someone who gets the pain of the empty nest. Her girls are gone for the summer, but it's just the prelude to being gone for good.
My sister and I went to live in Switzerland the first semester of our senior year in high school. My grandfather, a gifted theologian and teacher, was going there with my grandmother to teach for a semester. They were brave enough to invite two 17 year old teenagers to tag along. It was no less than a life altering experience.
I tell you that because it was my own mother's first experience with the empty nest. I remember her telling me later that she would sit at my desk in my bedroom, looking at all my high school paraphernalia, and feel the empty ache deep down in that hole that had opened up at the departure of her daughters.
I chose to go to college far away from home and again, my mother struggled privately with saying good-bye, leaving me there on the sidewalk in front of the dorm, knowing it was a temporary separation - a trial. The real leaving home would come later.
In reality, my sister and I don't really have empty nests. Our daughters may be gone, or still coming and going from college, but our houses are full. My house now holds four adults - two generations coexisting, plus Tessa for a few more weeks. We've exchanged caring for children for caring for parents. (My precious in-laws are probably wondering how it came to be that they are once again sharing their home with their children) My sister and her husband are opening their home to a couple of young women, providing transitional time and space. I think the empty nest is more of a heart issue.
Yes, we knew this day was coming --the day all of our years of mentoring, guiding, disciplining, dance-chaperoning, arguing, laughing, playing, cookie-baking, knee bandaging-- would come to an end. That's the plan, the goal, and we are grateful for it. Knowing we did our absolute best, knowing the daughters are relatively prepared for life, and leaving the light on and the bedroom available...those are the only things that soothe.
And maybe a phone call to someone who gets it.
My sister and I went to live in Switzerland the first semester of our senior year in high school. My grandfather, a gifted theologian and teacher, was going there with my grandmother to teach for a semester. They were brave enough to invite two 17 year old teenagers to tag along. It was no less than a life altering experience.
I tell you that because it was my own mother's first experience with the empty nest. I remember her telling me later that she would sit at my desk in my bedroom, looking at all my high school paraphernalia, and feel the empty ache deep down in that hole that had opened up at the departure of her daughters.
I chose to go to college far away from home and again, my mother struggled privately with saying good-bye, leaving me there on the sidewalk in front of the dorm, knowing it was a temporary separation - a trial. The real leaving home would come later.
In reality, my sister and I don't really have empty nests. Our daughters may be gone, or still coming and going from college, but our houses are full. My house now holds four adults - two generations coexisting, plus Tessa for a few more weeks. We've exchanged caring for children for caring for parents. (My precious in-laws are probably wondering how it came to be that they are once again sharing their home with their children) My sister and her husband are opening their home to a couple of young women, providing transitional time and space. I think the empty nest is more of a heart issue.
Yes, we knew this day was coming --the day all of our years of mentoring, guiding, disciplining, dance-chaperoning, arguing, laughing, playing, cookie-baking, knee bandaging-- would come to an end. That's the plan, the goal, and we are grateful for it. Knowing we did our absolute best, knowing the daughters are relatively prepared for life, and leaving the light on and the bedroom available...those are the only things that soothe.
And maybe a phone call to someone who gets it.
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