Monday, January 31, 2012

I still have glitter stuck to my face.  Saturday was the first start-up grant ball for an organization I support.  It was a masquerade ball and I went all out! 

I scared guys in High School (that’s my story and I am sticking to it) and never had a date to the prom (unless it was the Sadie Hawkins-type where the girls asked the boys) so decided I would make up for lost experiences at this special event.  My dress was VERY Cinderella in that it was poufy and the skirt’s undercarriage was full of toile.  It literally needed no hanger – it stood by itself!  The top was a bustier with gold beading.  The fabric: a luminescent green/blue.  I actually felt like a princess fairy.

I didn’t want to deal with a mask.  Remember when we were kids and wore those plastic masks for Halloween?  I still recall being all sweaty and uncomfortable underneath so for the ball I had mine painted on.  Great idea!  Not.  By the end of the evening (I danced like a woman possessed) it was smeared all over me, my friends, their husbands, a band member and two 14-year-old girls…..one would think ball was another word for brawl.

Some of the gals and I discussed the use of smelling salts in the days of corsets and big skirts.  There was no breathing.  There couldn’t have been.  My legs were slick with sweat in all the skirted packaging and to lose my beer keg figure the bustier had to be tight.  Oy!  By the end of the evening I was glistening, glittering and glowering with the effort to disrobe.

I got a good dose of what my parents are experiencing on Sunday.  I could hardly move.  It wasn’t that it was “lack of exercise sore” – although it should have been – it was more like “I have run out of gas exhaustion.”  Mom and dad will say from time to time that they are tired….they rest all day long and go to bed early.  That was me on Sunday.  I could have really used the smelling salts that day. 

I received an early Valentine’s card from my folks.  They always make me choke up.  This one says, on the cover, “I knew when I first laid eyes on you that you were very, very special.”  And on the inside it said, “Short bus special.  Love Dad and Mom.”

Today would mark my 27^th wedding anniversary to my first husband.  I fondly think of him and the huge lessons I learned from that time in our lives.  IT TOOK LONG ENOUGH, but I think I got them all and finally forgave myself a few years ago.  I looked him up and we had a nice chat.  Seems he found some glitter in that relationship, too.  What is the saying?  People are in your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime?  He and I did right by a wrong thing. 

If there is no meat in it, it’s not a meal.  I had a friend over for dinner the other day.    I created a lentil stew from a Cooking Light recipe.  No meat.  Full of flavor and delicious without it.  Yes, I am New Year dieting! Now, I could not have gotten away with this cooking for mom and dad. (Perhaps this is why I am at my all time heaviest weight.)  To them it is not a meal unless there is meat in it…also they require a gravy or cheese, and a salad onto which they pour at least a half of bottle of salad dressing. 

I’m hoping to have this weight off by the end of April.  I bought a Groupon for 20 visits to a yoga center.  I heard that yoga is very good for weight loss conditioning.  (If you have followed this blog for a while you may be wondering what happened to Cruella?  My fear of her prevented me from attending that particular gym and to stop paying FAT TAX (membership fees without attendance) I quit the gym.) 

I tried to attend a 4:30power yoga class yesterday and I couldn’t find the place.  My GPS wouldn’t map it for me.  My best friend couldn’t answer my phone call or text to help me AND the yoga people weren’t answering their phone and didn’t supply pre-recorded directions on their phone message.  So I went shopping instead.  I was planning to go today but got a last minute meeting instead and then drinks with the girls (excuse to wear new clothes).  Oh well, there’s always tomorrow..or the next day. 

I’m hoping to have this weight off by the end of April.  I bought a Groupon for 20 visits to a yoga center.  I heard that yoga is very good for weight loss conditioning.  I tried to attend a 4:30 class yesterday and I couldn’t find the place.  My GPS wouldn’t map it for me.  My best friend couldn’t answer my phone call or text AND the yoga people weren’t answering their phone and didn’t supply pre-recorded directions on their phone message.  So I went shopping instead.  I was planning to go today but got a last minute meeting instead and then drinks with the girls. 

Monday, January 23, 2012

It is ALIVE!!!  I just posted yesterday’s blog and my brother walked in the door.  Without skipping a beat he says to me, “Mom’s gonna be pissed you curled her wallpaper.” *sigh*

All it took was a jiggle and a slight bang with the fist and the dishwasher was open.  He then gently closed it and started the wash cycle.  “I do not know why you all insist on kicking this machine closed.  It closes just fine for me.”  I glare at him.

He sticks around to make sure it is actually working and when his visit passes the 1.5 hour mark and the dishwasher is still in the wash cycle – steam spouting and all – he says, “Maybe this is how long it takes for a hot wash.” (Read my similar sentiment in yesterday’s post).  We both decided that during the life of this machine in this house it has never been programmed to wash a dish in super heated water and it is likely this is also the first time the dishes have been steam sanitized.  We are encouraged.

About this time we both are feeling pretty good.  My brother grabs his coat to leave and on his way out the door turns back and says, “Mom’s still gonna be pissed you curled her wallpaper.”  *brothers*

Sunday, January 22, 2012

I’ve been back in Omaha for a week now.  It’s a bit weird to be in mom and dad’s house without them here yet I can say I enjoy being alone.  I’m especially happy that I can park my car in the garage for the next four months.  Yes, I am spoiled and if I had to scrape my windows of snow and ice and get into a frigid car every day this winter I may have come unglued.  I am on emotionally tenuous ground here, folks.

I think I broke the dish washer.  There are five or six wash option push buttons on the face of the machine and while I was tooth-brushing off years of dried on gook, I decided I would push a couple newly discovered options. Extra hot wash was one of them.  I added a bit of soap, kicked start and off to an appointment I went. (For those who follow this blog, you know the only way to get the dishwasher closed and started is to kick the door shut.)

It didn’t seem odd to me that the dishwasher was still running when I arrived home from my appointment.  What did seem odd to me was that it was Amazon hot in the kitchen, there was humidity sweat beads on the face of the cabinetry and mom’s blue plaid kitchen wallpaper was curling.  What is going on here?!  That’s when I noticed the steam shooting from around the door edges of the washer.  It was a bit Tom and Jerry Cartoonish to be honest.  I pushed in the stop button and went on to my next activity while the dishes cooled.

Wow!  I haven’t seen dishes at this house come out this clean and DRY ever.  Great!  Maybe a hot wash is a long wash.  I didn’t think more of it until the next load to wash.  I kicked it on and……nothing.  I tried to open it to see if perhaps I closed it wonky.  I can’t get it open.  I kick it.  A few times.  The dial won’t budge, the door will not open, it is not operating and the only sharp knife in the house is prisoner inside the machine.

I call my brother. My brother is a mechanic and fixer of all things mechanical. In this family he is the buck where all decisions mechanical stop.  He says he will come over.  Fixing stuff is his responsibility and performing last rites are, too.  So HE will have to make the call to mom and dad if a new dishwasher is in order.  If I call with the news they ‘ll ask, “What did your brother say?”

Its day three.  I have dish pan hands.  I have developed bursitis from cutting foods with dull knives. My brother doesn’t answer anymore of my calls.  Tonight’s dinner will be dry cereal out of a box.

Its day three.  I have dish pan hands.  I have developed bursitis from cutting foods with dull knives. My brother doesn’t answer anymore of my calls. 

Monday, January 09, 2012

Mom and dad flew in to my sister's place in NJ on December 23^rd, where I have been since the 10th,  for Xmas, Devyn’s birth and my sister’s 36^th birthday.  They left on January 6^th.

I just don’t know how other grown families do it.  Mine should not be allowed to gather in one spot, at the same time, for more than 24 hours.  We’re either too much alike or too different.  We project and we regress.  We react and forget to introspect.  We are too loud and too quiet at the same time.  We are passive aggressive.  There is WAY too much food.  We are rude.  We are wildly dysfunctional.  We are…….family.

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Devyn Rose Sparrer took charge and broke her own fetal sack during my sister’s pre-C-Section preparatory hospital visit on 12/27 (she was scheduled for 12/28 at 1:00 pm).  My dad had accompanied my sister just to get out of the house and stretch his legs.  According to my sister, the look on Dad’s face was priceless when she told him her water broke.  Kind of wide, saucer shaped eyes with a weird tilt to his neck.  He became the reluctant supporter with hospital admission, monitor hook-up and so forth until my brother in law could arrive on the scene.

Dad called to tell me to collect her suitcase and the baby’s cord blood package and bring these items, and mom, to the hospital.  I didn’t understand one word he said.  My sister had to get on the phone and translate.  I think dad’s going to remember this episode for a while (if a stroke is actually ruled out).  Mom said Dad didn’t spend this amount of time with the delivery of his own children.  What a gift for this first time grandpa!

At 6:34 pm on 12/27/11 our families welcomed this first child.  Seven pounds, 15 ounces, and 22 inches long Devyn Rose in one fell swoop created a mother, a father, an aunt, an uncle, two sets of grandparents and one great grandmother.  We all behaved ourselves. It was a very good day for family.

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My sister and her husband took some of those parenting classes to understand what to do when Devyn arrived.  I want to take some classes to understand what to do with the old people who have arrived in my parents’ bodies.  Who are these folks?  Where are my parents?

I realize being gone for 26 years in no way helped me to know my parents.  And I left so early that I didn’t really complete the adult child-to-parent relationship transformation that my friends experienced with their folks.  Seems my relationship with my folks froze in my mid 20s.  And now I’m pissed off because whatever it is that we DO have isn’t working so well.  Guess who is 50% responsible?

I am stomping my foot in a tantrum of denial.  Intellectually I know my folks have developed limitations as the natural part of aging.  Poor eye sight and hearing, sore joints, slow movement, forgetfulness, etc.  Emotionally, however, I am expecting them to be the same as they were when I left.  When did they start being so messy?  What’s with all the drama getting into and out of the car?  Where is their energy? Why must I repeat myself?  I have no sympathy nor compassion because I have not yet accepted their reality.  Mommy and daddy are gone.  Gramma and gramps are here. 

And guess what?  They’re pissed off, too.  Mom said one day that in her head she still feels 25 so imagine her disconnect with an aging body.  Once she mentioned to me that that it is still a shock to look into the mirror and see her wrinkled face. (OMG I’m starting to do that!)  Dad is struggling with the dread “ARTHUR” and low vision yet he still acts 25 and scares the hell out of all of us with his various activities.

My folks raised us kids to be very independent.  So much so we have difficulty asking for help.  Now here they are losing their independence by no choice of their own, fighting dependence every step of the way and having difficulty asking for help.  And here I am caught in the middle of wanting to help yet wanting NOT to help.  Like not helping will make them younger and spry, turn back the clock a bit, make me not so damn scared.  I am an idiot.

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My dad is a HUGE Brooklyn Bridge aficionado.  We have gifted him books, DVDs, and even Brooklyn Bridge clothing to help satisfy his enthusiasm.  My sister even arranged part of her NYC wedding day family photo shoot to include the Brooklyn Bridge in the background.  So, of course, when I escorted dad into the CITY to Fraunce’s Tavern and the revolutionary war museum, we capped the day off with a visit to The Bridge.  He shared with me how it was built, how long it took and what an incredible feat it was at the time.  Since his vision is failing, it was most poignant for me to be there with him.  He likely won’t see it again.

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I checked New Year’s Eve in NYC off my bucket list.

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Mom and dad are prepping and may have already left Omaha to drive to Florida and enjoy four months on Pine Island, a place where the fishing is good and dogs are allowed, FL.  They have never rented a place in one spot for this long.  They have RV’d for months yet this is the first time to vacation in one place with no worries of water and toilet hookups.

Mom has been writing out her 3x5 card lists for about a year now, she is so excited.  At Xmas they announced that they are hitching dad’s box trailer to the Suburban and are hauling down mom’s Miata so they have a smaller car to drive around (think red convertible, wind in the hair, etc.).  Mom’s thrilled because there is more room now to take more stuff.

We children are worried.  If you will recall, DAD CAN’T SEE WELL.  Just the other day dad was driving my sister around (C-Section, no drive for two weeks) and she exclaimed to mom that dad has no depth perception and should not be driving…especially with a trailer attached to a Suburban to Florida. To which mom replied, “I will help drive, we will not be driving at night.”  To which dad added that mom “forgets” that she has a trailer behind her and that scares him.

Since we do not tell our folks what to do (familiar with the term riot act?), we are praying that no innocent bystanders are taken out on their trip to Florida.

Meanwhile, I have the house to myself for four months and I WILL have that kegger.

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It is my sole intention during these next four months to find a job and move out of my parents’ house.  The job markets have opened up a great deal in Atlanta and New York City.  Omaha, not so much.  Actually, not at all.  *sigh*  I prefer to stay in Omaha for the time being yet I must go where there is work for me.  My age, depth of experience and specialization is no longer a good thing.  BUT, that Omaha is a relatively inexpensive place to live IS a good thing.  If I must flip burgers, I may still be able to afford a place of my own.  My EGO will be shot, but at least I will be back on my own.

I finish up my visit to NJ as The Help this Thursday.  Next I drive to Gatlinburg for some southern women, girls’ weekend bonding.  Then, back to the Big O.