from the porches

rent a grandmother

 
During the years that my children were babies and toddlers and of elementary age, I used to long for a grandmother within an hour's reach.  But mine and Truett's parents lived in Tennessee or Kentucky, so we had no grandmother or grandfather within arm's reach. 

 
Many times when our children were young, I thought about putting an ad in the newspaper to hire a grandmother for a day.  I firmly believed grandmothers and grandfathers were part of the backbone of a stable family structure.  But, since Truett and I moved so far south, my children didn't get to know their grandparents until they were teenagers. 

 
Being a grandparent is probably the most fun and rewarding job I have.  Personally, I dislike all the sayings about spoiling the grandchildren and then turning them back to the parents.  We do spoil Madeline and Oliver, I must admit.  However, I have no qualms about saying, "Pick up those toys!", or "Would your Mommy let you eat that gummy worm?"

 
Sometimes I feel like an intruder on Merry Jennifer and Sam's life simply because I feel the need to be around the grandchildren.  I place an awkward phone call and say, "Can we babysit for you today . . .perhaps a couple or three hours while you and Sam go to a movie or do something fun?"

 
Merry Jennifer always says, "Sure, Mom.  We'll find something to do."

Today Truett and I were able to babysit our grandchildren.  Truett and Maddie played a board game, while Oliver and I wandered into the yard so I could take photographs.

Being a grandparent is not a burden, as a parent who deals with parenthood daily might conjecture. 

No, for a grandparent, babysitting the grandchildren is a priviledge. 

Plus, my daughter and son-in-law never have to rent a grandmother because this one is ready and available!

kinks

 
Last week was probably one of the most stressful weeks I've had in quite a long time.  I woke up on Monday (a person's normal work week) and was charged up ready to go . . . get it on . . . get it done.  But, there were a few kinks in last week.

 
I have tried to push last week out of my mind because I NEVER again want to deal with the stressors I had last week. 

The first stressor, was getting my yard cat, Molly, spayed.  But you'll have to read my last post to learn about that because that's finished business. 

No.  The first really big stressor of last week was when I lost my debit card.  My credit/debit card.  You see, last Sunday Truett and I shopped in Publix (the infamous stuck-in-the-bathroom with a scooter incident). 

Then, on Monday as I was purchasing medicine at our local drugstore, I realized my debit card was missing.  I freaked out.  "Where is it?"  I snipped.  And then I got a lecture by Truett (who has no responsibility in anything these days about keeping our life in order). 

People, at that moment I was just about ready to deck an invalid because I NEVER lose anything because I am the sole keeper of our lives.

Yet, it seems, I had. 

So Monday I called the Florida Credit Union and canceled my debit card.  That's like losing a pet . . . or a child.  I was beside myself.  CRAZY, if you will.

 
On Tuesday of last week, Truett went to a Lion's Club meeting.  I gave him his ID and some cash and sent him on his way with his friend, Barney. 

Well, on Wednesday of last week I asked Truett,  "Did you give me back your driver's license?

"Yes," he told me. 

But, I couldn't find it.  Once again, I dumped all the contents of my purse out searching for important stuff. 

Lord have mercy on my soul.  I sent up prayers to God.  I meditated.  I was beside myself because I never lose anything.  I can't.  Our lives and Mom's life depends on me keeping organized.

 
In the meantime, I published a book for a friend of mine on Blurb and I had issues with the final publishing of the book.

However, as last week ended, the book was published and I found Truett's driver's license in his short's pocket, and a stranger found my debit card in the Publix parking lot.

Finally, last week's issues were resolved.  At the end of the week, I let out a sigh and muttered, "I Never want to have a week like this again!"

I hate kinks in my life!

 

 

fixing molly

 
Molly, originally named Ears Flat Back, is our loving yard cat.  The one that has at least two litters of kittens a year.  Maybe more.  Sometimes I see her coming from under the deck of the swimming pool and wonder if she has had kittens there, ones that will one day show up at my front door for food.

 
When my twin was visiting several weeks ago, she convinced me to get Molly spayed.  "Look how loving she is," Sherry pointed out. "Molly just wants to be loved. She will make a good indoor kitty." 

 
So last week Molly got spayed and the doctor said I had to keep her in the house for three to five days so her stitches could heal. 

 
You would think locking Molly in the back porch would be easy.  But it wasn't.  For three days Roger and Punky sat on one side of the glass door and meowed to Molly; while Molly stared back and meowed.  And let's not forget about the puppies who charged the door yapping and yapping and me screaming, "SHUT UP!"  For three long days and nights.

 
At one point I let Roger into the back porch. In a flash, Molly's fur puffed up and she whipped around and chased Roger into a corner, hissing and slashing the air with her claws.  Poor Roger was stunned and so was I.  At that moment I decided Molly will not become one of the house cats, as loving as she seems.

 
No.  Molly is content to lay on the outside window ledge and taunt Roger, even though she is fixed. And I'm good with that!

 

hole #6

 
This is a photograph of Clay's Golf in the Rough golf course which is on our back property.  When Truett and I were playing golf several years ago, we often took Clay with us to Quail Heights in Lake City; but we all know how expensive things became, so we told Clay, "No more."

 
Clay accepted this and then said, "Can I build a golf course on our property?"

"Sure," we answered.

So for the past several years, Clay has taken great pains to manicure his golf course.  Sometimes I see cars drive up and two or three people standing at the top of a rise and I know Clay has convinced them to come play on his course for free. . .(with a few wagers in between).

 
Clay is taking a respite for a year and a day; but the one thing he asked me to do was to take a photograph of hole #6 on his golf course and send him a picture.  So I'm doing that in the morning.

 
This is Clay's beloved Hole #6.  Outdoor carpeting from Lowes. Gopher turtle holes to the right. . . and sand.  Lots of sand.

I miss Hole #6.

feeding our souls

 
Everyday seems as if it bleeds into the next.   My routine centers around doctor's appointments and rehab.

I'm spending little time sitting on the porches with my mom watching the birds because it's so darn hot . . . and humid. 

 
But, other wildlife keep me entertained.  For instance, this gopher turtle was resting beside my driveway yesterday. Of course, I looked to the Heavens and said, "Thank you, God."

 
The four armadillo babies are still rooting around in our back woods.  They still scurry under Clay's house to rest.  They are just so darn cute! 

 
Almost daily, I drive Truett to the local rivers to feed his soul . . . and mine.

 
I take photographs of children I don't know.  And Truett tells me again and again, "I'm going to take Maddie and Oliver fishing."  He wants to.  Really, he does.  He bought them each a fishing pole months ago, and he bought himself a new one a couple of weeks ago.  But I am the navigator of our life and I just look at the docks and the water and try to figure out how to make this all happen with Truett in a wheelchair.  But then, Truett tells me not to sweat the small stuff. . . and I look at him all befuddled. So, I'm handing this one over as well.

 
Speaking of feeding our souls, after a doctor's appointment today, we picked up Madeline and Oliver from summer camp and spent quality time with them.

 
And that, my friends, is called feeding our souls!

 

meeting code

 
The hardest part for Truett and me is finding restaurants that are handicapped accessible.  We all know restaurants have to meet code; but from our standpoint, meeting code is not meeting code.

For four months Truett and I have had many doctor's appointments; and for four months I can now identify friendly handicapped restaurants and those that are not.

So I have a few words for several establishments in our area:

 
Winn Dixie and Publix:  Thumbs up for your electric scooters. 

However, today Truett, in his electric scooter, got jammed up in the restroom facilities at Publix in Lake City.  So here's some advice for you, Publix:  Get rid of the big baskets on the front of the scooters. They will not let the customer into the restroom without the help of two of your employees trying to untangle a scooter from the door jambs and garbage cans. (Poor Truett.  He never got to to relieve himself,which meant I had to pull off on a dirt road in Columbia County for my husband to take a leak.)

Cracker Barrel:  Why in the world do you have two massive doors leading into your establishment?  Furthermore, why would the men's restroom take a jigjag to the left and then to the right?  Rethink this, please.

 
Sonny's. I guess you are safe as far as the restroom facilities go; however, why in the world do you have an outer door and an inner door into your restaurant? Have you ever pushed a wheelchair into the outer door and then into your inner door into your restaurant?

Needless to say, all of our local restaurants are meeting code.

But, not according to me!

 

council meeting

 
So where are we now?  Well, first of all, Truett presided at his first Town Council meeting last week, the first time since December 2010.  He did a good job, with a few chuckles from me, the back row sitter.  The one trying to look innocuous. I might have posted something about this before, but removed it early the next morning.  It just didn't feel right to me; plus, I have the power to zap my own thoughts anyway.

Sweet Truett.  His Bells Palsy causes him to puff out p's, b's, and f's.  Personally, I think it's cute and it sounds like tiny air kisses. Truett only made a couple of little slips during the meeting.  He forgot the Pledge, but was quickly reminded to do so by Councilman Jackson.  Also, at the end of the meeting, Truett said, "Now I'll take an application for adjournment."  All councilmen agreed and the meeting ended.

Councilman Jackson and I gave each other huge smiles, knowing that "motion" should have been used instead of application.  But, hey, slip-ups happen. 

P.S.  I taught Councilman Jackson in fourth grade. He was a leader then and is a leader now!

 

seventh heaven

 
This week Truett and I took a vacation . . .from rehab.  My goodness, we have been going at this since January and we needed a break.

For weeks, as the physical therapists push Truett to the next level with his walking, Truett has gotten nauseous and he has up-chucked pretty regularly.  Ultimately, Truett got a prescription for nausea and some patches, which he will use next week when we resume our regular schedule.

But this week, my sister and her family has been visiting with us, so I felt it was the perfect time to take a  vacation.

 
Sherry and Quinn arrived on Saturday and on Sunday, Tiffany, Sherry's daughter took Mom to New Smyrna Beach.  We all had our doubts about whether Mom would actually go to the beach because of the long drive and her sitting in the car for about three hours straight; but I am happy to say that Mom did fine.

 
With Mom gone for a few days, Truett and I pondered about what to do.  After all, I didn't have to worry about my mother . . .I didn't have to leave notes about where I had gone and when I'd be back.  In essence, I felt free.  Much like a mom feels when their children leave for college.

So the first free day I told Truett I wanted to drive somewhere. (What was I thinking?  I complain about having to drive somewhere everyday!)

Of course, Truett asked where I wanted to go and I said, "Ocala."  Go figure!

"Why Ocala?" Truett asked.

"Well, I want to see rolling hills and I want to photograph a bird. . . They do have birds in Ocala don't they?"

 

But somehow, after we went to the Post Office on Monday, Truett said, "Turn right"; and we ended up driving around Branford, Florida, fifteen miles away.  For almost two hours I drove farm roads at 15 mph; and ever so often, I would pull off the road and take a photograph. 

  

I was in seventh heaven.

After our drive, Truett said, "Are we going to Ocala now?"

"No!" I answered.

I'm satisfied with the photographs I took, even without a bird.

 

monkey in the middle

 
The only way I can survive the hectic schedule I live is to set aside snatches of time for me by taking photographs.

Today I took my mother to Gainesville after an early hair appointment at 10:00 A.M. I found that I scheduled her hair appointment way too early before her doctor's appointment at 2:00. So, I did what Truett and I normally do: I just drove around Gainesville to kill time.
Ms. Alice was exhausted from her hair appointment and lunch at Perkins; so I told her I was going to look for birds to photograph in order to kill time. Would someone please tell me where to park at Lake Alice in Gainesville. I drove and drove, but never found a place to park. I knew I was missing the "shot of a lifetime", but that's life, plus I was really only killing time.

 
Mom's doctor's appointment was with her audiologist. For months, there has been a slight tension in our house over the TV volume. Mom and Truett both wear hearing aids; but somehow the volume on the TV is either too loud for Truett or too low for Mom; and I often feel like monkey in the middle, trying to appease the two of them. (I've been told by Truett that I need to have a hearing test.

What gives with that?"

 
Mom's hearing aids were turned up to a volume compatible with Truett's, so I am hoping our TV dilemma is solved; plus, I have a hearing test scheduled for me in the near future.

 
Since Truett spent the day home alone, I called him and said, "I'm leaving High Springs. Be ready and we'll check the mail together and I will take you for a ride." Truett was very appreciative; so for another hour at the end of a long day, I drove Truett to some of our favorite places: Rum Island and the local Santa Fe River.

 
It doesn't matter that I was exhausted from a day spent at Gainesville.

 
 The only thing that matters is to have this monkey in the middle make two special people feel loved and comfortable.

P.S. I will NOT wear a hearing aid.

armadillo in my yard

 
Wouldn't you just know it.  Over the past few years I have spent hours driving country roads searching for armadillo to photograph. It's not that I've never seen one before.  I have.  It's just that I've always wanted to photograph an armadillo up close and personal. They're just so prehistoric looking. 

 
I've driven into state parks and hiked along dirt paths with my camera on and ready to focus in a moment's notice.  Oh, I've seen a couple of armadillo at the state parks . . . but just their behinds.

 
I'm always so amazed that armadillo are so focused on rooting for food that I can practically walk up on them. But then instinct must kick in; and they look up, startled, and in a split second, dart into the underbrush.  They are very fast runners, you know.  (I know because I have chased a few.)

 
Well, this afternoon as I parked my car in the carport, I looked to my left and spied four young armadillo rooting along the ground beside Clay's house.  I told Mom not to move and took a few photographs. 

After that, I had Truett roll out on his scooter to see them.  His scooter got stuck in the sand and he had to be rescued by a friend of Clay's; but my yearning for armadillo photographs has been satisfied . . . at least for a while.

 
You know, of course, I'll be irate if I find my roses rooted up.  And then my fascination with armadillo will be done.