from the porches

somewhat royal

 

Discombulated?

Oh, my word!

Today I drove Clay over to a friend's house out to the countryside; and I actually stopped my vehicle on the side of a one-lane dirt road and took photographs.

 
Meanwhile, Clay shouted,  " Go on! You're going to get us killed!"

But. . . I thought, "No.  There's a Royal Wedding going on and I am going to photograph wildflowers!"

 
So. . .

I did.

And THEN I FELT SOMEWHAT ROYAL!

wild phlox

 

well, hello there

 
"Well, hello there!"

Although my days and nights seem to run together,

and although I live by a calendar so I know which of my family members go where on what day since I'm the one and only driver,

and although I get really down in the dumps and feel put-upon. . .

Although all of these these keep my stress level up. . .

Lately there have been many moments which have brought me joy.

The giraffe in my first photo is one of those moments.

 
Tina (Truett's daughter) and Ms. Alice (my mom who is in remission from cancer) share a bench in front of  The Great Outdoors Restaurant in High Springs.  That brought me joy.

 
Truett is making good progress considering his brain went through a most traumatic six-hour surgery on January 31.  My word, this man is a maniac on his new, used scooter.  We've had to buy two back tires because somehow the original tires shredded to pieces. Truett has managed to knock a door jam off the door, flipped over dining room chairs and blindsided unsuspecting walls on his way to the toilet. No longer does Truett call my name in the middle of the night.  No.  Now it is the hum of a scooter and a bang! Bump!  Umph! that wakes me up.  I know it's not right to laught at someone's misfortune, but sometimes I do.

Not only that, but, Truett has discovered the scooters in grocery stores.  Up until now, my alone time was spent at the grocery stores; but it looks like I will have to consider someplace else.  I've been thinking of somewhere remote like the Everglades.

 
The wildflowers line Hwy. 47 and that has caused me to smile.

But last,

 
Well, hello there!

After our trip to Gainesville today, I played a couple of hours of dominoes with my friends.  On the way there I saw this fox squirrel. At dominoes,I got hugs and pats on the back.  I got stories told by women who have been caregivers and who know exactly how hard the job is.

But most of all, I had fun today for the first time in months.

   

easter 2011

 
Tina, Truett's oldest daughter, has been visiting us for the past four days, just in time for Easter. 

 
Tina was about fourteen years old when I met her. . . when I began dating her father. 

Even though I had reached the old age of about twenty-seven years old, I was not much younger than Tina was . . in my spirit. 

Tina and I used to sit in Cherokee Park in Louisville and learn to smoke cigarettes together.  Of course, neither of us knew what we were doing, so we both learned to light a cigarette lighter with our right index finger. 

At one point in our lives, Truett said, "Who taught you to light a lighter like that?  That's downright stupid!" 

And, of course, I responded, "Tina and I learned how together." 

And, to this day, that's the only way either of us can light a cigarette lighter. (P.S. Neither of us smoke now thank goodness; and we chalk it up to maturity!)

 
Tina flew in from Chicago on April 20th and has helped me out with her father for days. 

Heck.  Just lifting that God-awful wheelchair up into our Acadia saved at least six weeks off my back . . . and  my life. 

I became concerned, however, when Tina referred to me as, "My stepmother."

"Stepmother?" I thought; and being an ex-elementary teacher I thought of all the horrible stepmothers in children's books.

So, I brought this up with Tina. 

I told her, " I refer to you as 'Truett's oldest daughter. . .not my stepdaughter'.

 
So, with that said... it was said.

Tina did much of the cooking for our Easter dinner today.

But, what she really did was continue to instill writing in my grandchildren. 

 

 

 Instead of watching videos in the children's bedroom, Maddie wrote an Easter book.

Thank you, Tina!  I gave my grandchildren jelly beans!

 

I know none of these people will think these photographs flattering...but these people are my lives! 

Truett and his two beautiful, intelligent daughters: Merry Jennifer and Tina!

So...after taking photographs of egg hunts, this post has nothing to do with that.

This post has to do with the meaning of family. . .the meaning of love. . .

This was  our Easter of 2011.

yes, I giggle

 
For years I blogged for myself. 

But, not now, because I have no self left. 

Now my life is all about my family: Truett, Mom, and Clay. 

For years I blogged about everyday life that made me giggle.

But not now.

I'm not seeing much to giggle about lately.

 
HOLD IT!

HOLD IT!

Upon thinking somewhat rationally, I realize I do giggle now. 

That's right. I giggle and laugh hysterically until tears roll down my cheeks when Truett rams the dining room table  with his scooter because he has no depth perception.

Oh, my word!

How many times must I shout, "Watch the table!" 

And then the table is pushed two feet from its resting position.

So then I shout, "Didn't you see the table?"

And Truett yells back, "That's a STUPID QUESTION!"

 
Yes!  I giggle or maybe I laugh and then I cry when Truett tells me to "Go Now!" and then I realize I almost got smashed by a semi tractor trailer.

 
Yes, I giggle because right now I have no other option.

Yes, I giggle.

Or do I?

I'm thinking maybe it's an outloud crying!"

just ducky

 
Things are just ducky around here.

Well, almost.

 
Truett was worked hard at rehab yesterday and the physical therapist said he has seen much improvement in the past two weeks.  Clay and I know we've seen a lot of progress, but it's always nice to have 'outsiders' say they've seen progress in my husband. Then, after rehab ,Truett and I went to Picadilly Cafeteria in Gainesville. Then home we came.  

 
So...what's the almost ducky about?

Being a caregiver is the hardest work I've ever done; therefore, I look forward to spending a couple of hours away from feeble people.  However, yesterday afternoon Truett told me he wanted to go to Lake City with me when I took Clay to his rehab meeting.

On one hand, I was pleased because Truett is now wanting to assimilate into our "real world".  However, on the other hand, I thought,  "YIKES! I need a break!"

But, being the good wife, I said, "Sure.  You can go." 

So Clay packed Truett and his wheelchair up and off we went to Lake City.  Truett asked me what I usually do when Clay is in his meetings, and I said, "Oh, I go to Lake DeSoto and take photographs of birds."

But would you believe it?  There was not a single heron or egret at the lake last evening. 

Nope! 

Only ducks! 

Now, if you have been following my blog for a long time, you may remember that I think ducks are pretty boring creatures.  Yet, last night all I saw to photograph were ducks.

 
At first I was disappointed until I looked into those sweet duck eyes as they begged for my leftover Burger King french fries.  And then I thought, "These ducks are beautiful!" 

But not only that, I saw two of my Fort White Elementary School teacher buddies . . . and that raised my spirits.  We gave each other hugs and kind words and my night was made.

So yeah.

Things are just ducky around here.

Well. . . except for my aching shoulder from lifting a wheelchair into the Acadia and a bruised knee from banging a wheelchair on my kneecap as I lowered it to the ground from the Acadia.

But, I'm not complaining. 

Really. 

I'm not.

 

 

 

 

on the run

 
Yesterday we had a friend bring over a scooter for Truett to try out.  Originally, Truett said, "No, I don't want one of those.  I just want to walk."  But our friend insisted and brought the scooter over anyway.  I had decided if Truett liked the motorized scooter, then we could purchase it or rent it until we no longer needed it.  But it did not take more than fifteen minutes of puttering around before Truett asked,  "How much do you want for this?"

 
Truett rode all over the decks learning how to maneuver the scooter. 

 
 "He's on the run now," I said as I chased after Truett.

 
So last night we parked the scooter in front of the famous green recliner so Truett could be mobile at his whim.  (Don't look at my messy house.  You do what I do and see if you can keep your house cleaned!)

 
The last great final test was to see if the scooter could fit in the bathroom. . . and it did.

Now here's the real story:

This morning at 2:30 I hear banging, whacking, bumping on my dining room table.  You know who was riding the scooter to the kitchen to fix his nightly bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats.  Evidentally, Truett was having trouble so he called Clay to come find the milk for him.  With an attitude, Clay came in our house, slamming doors behind him. 

Meanwhile, I pretended to sleep.  Then I heard munching and crunching on Frosted Mini Wheats by the two men in my life.

The good part:

I didn't have to push Truett in the wheelchair at all last night. 

However, my husband does need more driving lessons with the scooter.

 
Thanks, Berle.  Truett loves his scooter and will soon be on the run in the yard! 

snack attack

 
For the past month I complained about not getting quality sleep.  My ears were tuned to, "Merry!"  And that meant only one thing.  I had to get up and push Truett to the bathroom. 

 
But then the familiar cry, "Merry!" meant more than that.  It meant, "Crap!  He's hungry again!"  Sure enough, at 12:30 a.m., at 2:00 a.m., and again at 4:30 a.m., I would drag myself out of the bed, grumbling the whole time.  "What now?" became my question.

 
"I'm hungry," Truett would say.  Or. . ."I'm thirsty!" he would say.  Well, folks.  It took me about three weeks of this before a lightbulb popped in my head.

 
I dashed to the hall closet and drug out my lunch bag I often took to school with me.  That night I filled the lunch bag with chips, a banana,a baggie of canteloupe, two granola bars and a cold bottle of water.  Then I showed it to Truett.

 
"Now!" I stated.  "There's no reason you need to wake me up during the night!"  It's amazing how long it took my little brain to figure out how to solve my problem, but it did.

But wait!  There is more good news here.  The other night I heard Truett's wheelchair rolling through the hall.  After that I heard the refrigerator door close and I heard Frosted Mini Wheats being crunched.  My husband has finally learned how to get his own snacks when he has a snack attack! 

Praise the Lord!

the power of family

 
Never underestimate the power of family. Over the weekend Truett's brothers, Boyce and Kenneth,and Kenneth's wife, Darlene, visited us.

 
Just having Truett's brothers here for three days caused Truett to push himself to become more independent. Truett transferred himself on a regular basis to and from his wheelchair and to and from the toilet.  We praised him for taking charge.  I know Truett wanted to prove to his brothers that he is getting well.

 On Friday Boyce and Kenneth took Truett to the Opthamologist and to Perkin's Restaurant for a hearty breakfast.

On Saturday the three brothers went to Chiefland for lunch at The Lighthouse; and at nights we ate meals that Darlene had prepared and brought with her.   
 
At nights the George brothers and I played Rook for hours. Jokes were told, wise cracks were made and there was a lot of laughing and praises.

 
The power of family definitely had a healing effect on Truett.

 

macaroni mama is alive and well

 
I'll have you to know that Macaroni Mama is alive and well!

That's right.

Most of my days are spent meeting the needs of Truett, my mama, the puppies, the cats...and even Clay.  And with all the time I spend meeting these needs, I forget that I have to provide meals for Truett and Mom and me, if I have an appetite left at the end of a day.

 
So...how lucky am I?

I discovered Hamburger Helper after thirty years!  And Truett even requested it!

 
Did you know that there are at least a dozen varieties of Hamburger Helper?  So much has changed since the 70's.

 
I feel really guilty serving the merry gourmet's father Hamburger Helper; but hey, if it's not copectic, then I suggest gourmet cooks deliver gourmet meals to the tiny town of Fort White, Florida...specifically to the Mayor's house.

 
P.S.  If you happen to visit during mealtime and I don't extend an offer to stay for breakfast, dinner, or lunch...it's because I already have too much on my plate.