from the porches

metamorphosis

I'm keeping my grandchildren for a sleepover tonight.  Somehow, I thought I had them for two nights, but I am mistaken.  Anyway, after supper tonight it was time for baths.  Oliver took his shower first and then completely covered himself in a towel on my bed. 

"Nana," he said.  I am a cocoon."  And pretty much he was except for that inkling of a pink toe.

"Hold on, Oliver," I told him.  "I want to see the whole metamorphosis of a beautiful butterfly."

And another leg appeared.

And finally, the beautiful butterfly!

 

glitches

Well, Truett has been home from Shands Rehab Hospital almost a week.  He came home "walking".  But I have noticed that his enthusiasm for walking has waned.  This worries me.  At night I lay in bed and wonder why?  Why did he lose his motivation? 

Today I may have come up with an answer.  While Truett was at Shands Rehab Hospital (for the second time in one year), he was treated differently.  His first visit resulted in people asking, "Who does this guy think he is?"

But not so this second round.  All I heard when I visited was, "You did great Truett!"

"High Five, Truett!" 

"Now WHO am I gonna' watch the Gator games with when you leave?" Mr. Truett!

I have come to the realization that Truett misses the attention he got at Shands Rehabilitation Hospital, and attention is a great motivator. Truett's attitude about "walking" is still there, even though he hasn't "walked with his walker" in two days.  And then I wonder, "Why not?"  Where is the motivation?"

Today I drove my husband to his Audiologist in Gainesville; and as I was getting the wheelchair out of the Acadia, I noticed that Truett was standing outside of the passenger door.  Alone.  No safety belt.  No wheelchair behind him.

"Don't move!" I shouted.  "What in the world are you doing?"  Then Truett told me he knows he can walk; but he just forgot that he can't do it now. . . without a walker.  So, from now on, the walker is our third passenger when we travel.

After six days out of Rehab I have assumed things are status quo . . . like they were a month ago. 

But they are not.  There are a few glitches.

I asked Truett tonight if he was reading his "Cowboy books".  (He hates it when I call them that.  "They are Westerns!" he lambastes!"  And even though, I thought we just picked up where we left off almost a month ago. . . we haven't.  He can't focus on reading and thinking at the same time.  Not yet. (After all, it was seven months to reach where we had come from).

Even though Truett is taking his anti-nausea meds, they are NOTworking.  We did make it to the Audiologist  in Gainesville today; however, Truett's God-awful dusty pink rose plastic bucket rode in his lap the whole way.  So, soon I hope this nausea straightens itself out. 

But, here is the best part.

Truett's hearing aide is working.  NO MORE LOUD TV.  NO MORE LOUD TALKING!

I told Mama tonight, "Just read the words on the screen.  It's so much better that the NOISE!"

And that's what we did as we watched NCIS (my favorite TV show).

Sometimes you have to just deal with glitches . . . and keep the faith  . . .and keep the hope!

long time coming

 
It's been a long time coming. . . having our grandchildren for a sleepover. 

In fact, the last sleepover we had with them was December 17, 2010.  Way too long not to experience the joys of young children.  The laughter.  The pestering bickering.  The wisdom from young minds. . . and the endless questions about our world and the universe we live in.  And I must not forget the knowledge that my grandchildren have learned since December 17, 2010.

 
Oliver is four years and seven months old.   A regular chatterbox, if I might add.  But Oliver's voice is like the sound of Angels to my ears.  "Nana, are there skunks on this driveway?  You know skunks are stinky!  I hope there aren't any skunks on this road."

 
If only I had a tape recorder to preserve the memories of these special days.  Maybe, that's why I feel the need to blog.

 
 And then there's my dear Madeline.  Seven years old and about to become a second grader.  I did notice one thing about Maddie this sleepover.  When I said, "You have to walk quietly by the puppy pen," she threw her hands out and exasperatedly exclaimed, "BUT WHY!  I'M NOT AFRAID OF THE PUPPIES!"  And it was at that moment that I thought I saw an early teenager in her.  You know.  The "attitude!"  And I just chuckled!

 
Oliver and I retreived the newspaper for Granddaddy this morning when we saw a giant footprint.  Of course, the writing teacher in me caused me to inquire, "Oliver, whose footprint could that be? Could it be Bigfoot's?"

"Nana, who's Bigfoot?" Oliver asked.  So I told him.  (Sorry, Merry Jennifer and Sam.  But imagination has to start somewhere, even if it is scary.) 

Needless to say, Oliver and I surmised it must be Uncle Clay's footprint and not Bigfoot's, but most definitely not a skunks footprint."

 
Madeline, on the other hand is way more interested in cute little sweet adorable kittens. . .eight in all.

 
 And of course, puppies, especially Maggie.

 
Now you don't have a sleep over at Nana's and Granddaddy's without spending some time writing stories. . .or alphabet letters.

 
That's right. The teacher in me never leaves.

 
Okay, folks.  Lontsum is really lonesome.  But any elementary teacher could phonetically figure that one out. 

 
Yes, this sleepover was a long time coming and I loved every second of it!

 

unload & reload

 
 
I am learning how difficult it is to have a family member being disabled, especially when it comes to finding handicapped parking spaces. Sometimes I see people hop out of their cars in one of these reserved spaces and I want to yell, "HEY! YOU CAN WALK!  WE NEED THAT SPACE!"   

I'm also learning about handicapped friendly doors.  You would think all doctors' offices would have that handicap button that you mash and the door magically opens, but they don't.  The best doors are the ones that push inwards, not the kind that have to be pulled open; otherwise, one of us ends up contorting their body which is no longer limber, so the other one can roll through. 

 
Unload. 

This morning Truett went to rehab where Zachary, the PT, had Truett walking on a treadmill.  I posted a picture on Facebook which showed Truett all harnessed up walking on the treadmill.  Many of you commented about the great progress or how wonderful that he was walking; however, he can only walk under strict supervision, or being harnessed.  Zachary was reminding Truett that we walk from heel-to-toe so that's what Truett was practicing.  Then I found myself standing up and paying attention to how I walked.  Zachary was right:  heel...toe...heel...toe. 

Reload.

 
We certainly didn't plan our day right today because after rehab Truett and I had four hours to kill before his eye surgeon's appointment.  "What do you want to do?" I asked, and Truett suggested we go look at something pretty.  So we headed out to Micanopy, a lovely town.  Then we drove to Paynes Prairie.  "Great," I thought.  I can take photographs."  But Truett decided he wanted me to roll him out on the dock.  "Jeeze! That means I have to unload that wheelchair and load it back up!"  Then I felt guilty.

Unload.

 
"Okay, come on," I said.  Then I felt all better.

Reload.

 
Next, we decided to have lunch at Red Lobster, which, by the way, have unfriendly doors. 

Unload.

We ate, and I loaded the wheelchair back into the Acadia. Whew!  Unloading it is fine.  All I do is yank on it and pull and hope it doesn't land on my toes as it lands on the pavement.  But, reloading the wheelchair is a different story.  I don't think I'm tall enough or don't have long enough arms or something, so I struggle and struggle and in it goes!  Whew!

Reload. 

One hour and fifteen minutes left.  "What do we do now?" I asked. Then Truett suggested we go to Books-A-Million.  "Crap!" I bellowed.  "That means I have to unload and reload that wheelchair!  UGH!"  Once again, I felt guilty and said, "Okay!  Let's go!"

Unload.

Reload.

 
Truett bought a large magnifying glass and three books.  "Uh, Truett.  Why are all those bruises on your arm?  Could it be that you race through the house with your scooter on full speed, banging into walls?"  Poor baby!

 
Finally, we went to the eye surgeon's office. 

Unload.

That's when I realize  my husband can't be left alone for more than ten minutes in a doctor's office before he starts rummaging around.  "Hey,look at this," he says.

 
 
Finally, the doctor saw Truett for about five minutes and decided the stitches will come out of Truett's eye next week, the same day as rehab, only four hours later. 

Reload!

At last we made it back to Fort White; but I told Truett that next week we're not running all over the place with me unloading and reloading that wheelchair.  Nope.  Next week we're going to a movie! That should kill at least two hours.

  

 

while he slept

 
The weather was beautiful today.  Warm. Sunny.  Spring-like.  Around 10:00 this morning Truett said he wanted to be pushed outside on the patio. So I wheeled him to the patio where he stayed until 1:30 p.m.  Truett napped for about two hours while I took photos in silence.

 
I photographed sandhill cranes.

 
Flock after flock of sandhill cranes.

 
I photographed yard ornaments.

 
And Truett slept. 

 
I photographed wheelchair parts. . .

 
And more sandhill cranes.

 
I photographed the first chameleon since late last fall.

 
And more sandhill cranes.  The sky was full of cranes.

 
Meanwhile Truett slept like a baby. 

Kiss.  Kiss. 

 

 

merry christmas 2010

 
Merry Christmas everyone!

This has definitely been a year to remember.

 
This year I had the most gorgeous flowers, and yesterday I saw one lone rose blooming.  All the rest have died and turned brown because of our cold weather here in Florida.  I saw the rose from the porch and felt an urgency to photograph it before the next cold snap which will happen in a day or two.  I love you, roses.

 
One year ago on Christmas Day, Ms. Alice, (my mom) would not go anywhere out of the house because of a huge lymphoma on her lip.  Then she went through chemotherapy, radiation, and the ordeal of regaining her strength back.  We survived the year, didn't we, Mom?  Now look at her.  She lost her hair, grew unmanageable frizzy curls, and now Mom gets her hair trimmed in a style at the beauty shop.  Merry Christmas to you, Mom!

 
Oh, my word!  In March we bought Maggie and Lily, the two most adorable daushund puppies in the world.  They pretty much rule the house now and it's a juggling act for me among:  A husband, Mom, Clay, Maggie and Lily, and of course, Roger and Punky, our Manx cats.  This was definitely a year to remember, wasn't it, gang? 

Tomorrow we will spend Christmas Day with Merry Jennifer and her family, and I am grateful that my family is so close.  I wrapped the presents, made jello salad, am doing laundry as I type, and in the morning will hop to it to make my squash souffle while Truett's whips up his yummy mashed potatoes.

Merry Christmas, everyone!  Have a blessed holiday! 

nana said a bad word

 
We had the grandchildren last night for a sleepover, and this morning I flubbed up a wee bit.  It all staarted like this.

 
I was opening a package of snack crackers for Maddie.  As I ripped the bag, Cheetos flew out of the bag landing on the counter and on the floor.

"Damn!" I said. 

I want you to know right now that that word slipped out of my mouth before my brain had time to engage.

 
Maddie looked at me and asked,  "Nana, did you just say a bad word?"

"Yes, I did, Maddie.  I apologize," I answered.  "I shouldn't have said that."

"Did you say the st word?"  Maddie asked.

"No, Maddie.  I didn't."  I said.

Then Maddie was off to the livingroom to finish watching Sponge Bob.

And this is what I heard:

 
"Oliver!  Oliver!  Nana said a bad word, but it wasn't the st word.

(Oh, my word!  Now they'll tell their parents!)

Then four year old Oliver exclaimed, "Well, butt is a bad word!" and the giggling began.

 
Shortly afterward, I peeked into the livingroom and saw my two innocent grandchildren marching in a circle chanting, "One..two..three BUTT! One..two..three..BUTT!"

Do you think it's time for Nana to go back to church?

 

a good mother

 
Today I was a good mother. 

Yes, I was.

Clay had his driver's license revoked last month because he sent the payment for another infraction two days late.  Consequently, when he was stopped again for passing a deputy five miles over the limit, he was not only charged with speeding...but with driving without a driver's license.

UGH!

Anyway, I took Clay to the DMV today in Lake City, only to find out that that cute little birth certificate hospitals give all mothers after their child is born...after all that agonizing pain of delivering a child...well that cute certificate is  NOT a birth certificate.

No. 

We had to find Vital Statistics to prove that my child, Clay, was born on 4/7/77.  They told me, "No mam, it doesn't matter if his footprints are on this token that hospitals give the parents.  Here I was thinking I had all his documents straight to reinstate his driver's license. 

But, alas, I was wrong.

So, you might say that today I learned a thing or two.

 
Anyway, Clay complained the whole way to Lake City that his tooth was hurting.  BAD HURTING!  So, being the good mother, I said, "Okay.  I'll call Sam!  ( Sam, my son-in-law is an endodonics dentist.)  Now, for those of you who don't quite know what kind of dentist that is, just think:  root canal.

Anyway, being a good mother today, I took Clay to Dr. Markham, with a happy attitude, I might add.  But while I was there, I looked out in the woods and saw these robins.  "There is a God after all!" I thought.

 

To end this post, I have to pat myself on the back for taking my son to the dentist for a root canal job.

Do you want to know Clay's comments about his experience.

"Mom, Sam sure works with a lot of pretty women!"

And, my friend, that sums up Clay's day.

always a teacher

 
Yesterday afternoon Truett and I took Maddie and Oliver to swimming lessons.  In order to keep the grandchildren from picking at each other, I suggested we play a game.  Oliver shouted, "Let's play I Spy.  I quickly vetoed that game because it's pretty hard to spy the same thing in a moving car, so I said, "Let's write out loud."  Everyone agreed and this is how it went.

Me:  Halloween was fun.  Now each of you have to add a sentence about Halloween being fun.  Got it?"

Everyone:  "Yes!"

Me:  "Halloween was fun."

Granddaddy:  "Because I got candy."

 
Me:  "What, Granddaddy?  That's not right.  That's a phrase and you can't start a sentence with because. You have to make a sentence."

Truett hung his head like a little boy who had just been reprimanded. Meanwhile Maddie and Oliver are listening to my instructions.

Me: "Okay.  Let's do it again...only this time right.  Halloween was fun".  Then I pointed to Truett.

 
Truett:  "I got lots of candy."

Me:  "Great, grandaddy!  You did it.  Maddie, it's your turn."

Maddie:  "I was a princess."

 

Me:  "Wonderful, Maddie.  You've got it!  Oliver, it's your turn."

Oliver:  "I was the Cookie Monster."

 
Me:  "Perfect, Oliver! Now I end it. Halloween was fun!"

Maddie:  "That was fun!  Let's do it again!"

Oliver:  "Again!  Again!"

So we did it again.

 Me: "I got lots of Halloween candy."

 
Granddaddy:  "M&M's, lollipops. . ."

Once again I had to intervene.

Me:  "NO! NO! NO! Granddaddy, that's not right!  Maddie, tell Granddaddy what he's suppose to say!"

Maddie:  "Granddaddy, you're supposed to make a sentence.  You have to say, 'I got M&M's and lollipops!' "

 
Poor Truett.  He looked at me and sighed,  "Why do you always have to be a teacher?"

 

 

cracker

 
Finally, Truett and I are on a "real" vacation.  No wedding to attend, no funeral (thank God), just a vacation to relax and enjoy the mountains of the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Virginia Skyline.  My brother, Steve, is staying with Mom, the puppies and the cats, so all is well.

 
When we arrived at our hotel in East Ridge, TN, to meet Sherry (my twin) and Quinn (her husband), we were also greeted by Cracker, the crow.

 
Cracker took an immediate liking to Truett.

 
And I think the feeling was mutual.

We caught Cracker looking for food in the mini-fridge. What do you feed a crow anyway?

 
Then Cracker was on the search for water.  "Oh, alright crow.  You can have water."

 
Finally, after a filling Italian meal, it was time to retire for the night before our long drive tomorrow.  Don't be surprised if you see Cracker in a few more of my pictures this week.