TOC Part I

Last entry I made a table of contents—really just things I thought I might write about…now I feel compelled to cover them all or I will be backing off something I said I would do which is a huge no-no for me. So I will plow through and it won’t make sense because I waited too long for writing. Grrrr.

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When I was in SAT last week I wanted to take Mom to the Pearl Farmer’s Market—Mom was having a bad day and just couldn’t pull it off. She needs 4 hours to build up her stamina to go out and she had a late start…if she feels rushed it is a double whammy for her. So we will do that another time. I was hell bent though to take her to the Humane Society the following day because I thought she would like it and she did—a lot. The facility was sooooo nice and totally unlike the ‘animal defense league’ that I remembered. It was clean, no odors, attractive, and the critters were housed beautifully and with sensitivity. It was kinda difficult getting Mom in because I didn’t use my best parking judgment. I had to take her transport chair and push it over lumpy ground that ended up really hurting her. Once inside it was really fun…we had private glassed in rooms to sit and play with a kitten. Later we went into a larger glassed in area with cat ‘trees,’ toys, and swings…with mature cats… nice, but nothing as alluring as time with a frisky kitten. I was able to get some great pictures too. The dog units were pretty loud as expected so we didn’t stay too long there. It was a great outing…except for the bumpy ride inside.

Being at Mom’s is challenging. First it is dark….I am used to my bright home. It is also extremely loud because the TV volume is set at the high end because of Mom’s deafness. I should wonder, since I am seriously hearing impaired…but she is stone deaf. Then it is HOT….Mom is so pitifully thin—no fat so she is always cold…very, very cold. This is her reality….When I go to Mom’s I take a fan, borrow a fan from Billy, and use the ceiling fan in the bedroom….and I am burning up. What’s my point? I am blessed to have time with her and my silly complaints make me a small person. I know it, I live with it, and I am miserably ashamed of it. Time with her is NOT about me.

On the way to the farmer’s market I saw the marquee in front of the Lion’s Park that said, ‘Tonight Ukulele Jamming and Sing Along.’ I was so excited…this is just what I needed to perk me up—sitting around singing “Shine on Harvest Moon”, “Home on the Range”, and the “Yellow Rose of Texas”…..maybe even “She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain!” While Mom napped, I Googled the SAT Ukulele Club and then gave them a call. Curses. The signage was from the day before I read it. Damn. I was so pumped. Well, I am not to be discouraged—I will go next month and with a little encouragement I may take up the Uke. I was telling the MJ girls about it today. The Ukulele web site promoted learning to play—touting the convenience of the small size and how you could easily practice on road trips! I had to laugh. Len trapped in the car listening to me belt out “Mares Eat Oats and Does Eat Oat and Little Lambs Eat Ivy.” Sure. He would murder me. When I built my dulcimer in 1985, the kit came with a learn-to-play book. I practiced “She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain” night and day. After a day or two, Len asked that I play in the guest bedroom then later would I mind playing outside. He is not a connoisseur of the dulcimer-I am not sure if it was my musical acumen on the dulcimer or my voice!

I am not a patient person. When I am in SAT, I cope by eating, drinking, shopping, and reading. I wouldn’t mind smoking again. I pray to God, this doesn’t show on my face but I fear it does…hence the comment Mom made last week….she said something to this effect, “You know I lost my Mom early….I didn’t have the opportunity to be with her during her old age.” She knows how to make a point and she does NOT mince words these days. I straightened up right quickly! I love her and I was acting out and she let me know it.

I think it would help if I had a beautiful faith…I want to be something…a Buddhist, Holy Roller, Presbyterian, Unitarian, Catholic, or Episcopalian—something. I have been fighting being agnostic since the beginning of my spiritual awareness. I don’t want to be a snake handler. I sure do connect with Anne Lamott.

I just reread this. Like Bridget Jones’ Note to Self: I must go back to school and learn about quotation marks.

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