from the porches

being a twin

I have alluded to my children's book It's not Easy Being a Twin several times.  That book is not published and probably never will be.  But Sherry and I have had more comments about us looking alike this summer than I can remember.

It reminds me of the ending of my book: 

So, like I've said many times before, it's not easy being a twin; but these things are for certain.  If I need someone to talk to, my twin is there with an attentive ear.  And if I need a comforting hug, my twin is ready at a moment's notice, arms outsreached.  In fact, my twin is my best friend forever.  Maybe being a twin isn't so bad after all.

Everywhere we went during the past two weeks strangers would say, "Hey, are y'all sisters?"  We would answer, "We're twins."  People were amazed.  They are used to toddler twins, school-aged twins, but not old  twins. 

The staff at Gainesville Health Care Center would exclaim, "Twins! G'awd y'all  look alike!"  And then Sherry told them we were 70 years old and then they would exclaim, "Y'all looking good!  No way!  How do you look so young?"

At Barnyard Restaurant, at the Dollar Store, at S&S, once again I guess we were "freaks".  It's not always easy being a twin. 

But, I love it!  Even Sherry's son, Quinn, got us mixed up.  I'm sure you want pictures, so here is what I suggest.  Look at Sherry and you will see me.  Look at me and you will see Sherry . . . for the first time in many years . . . we do look alike.

Southern Charm Kitchen

Today Sherry and I ate lunch at Southern Charm Kitchen in Gainesville.  I must admit the menu was interesting.  Something for everyone.  Traditional food for folks who love soul food, food for vegetarians and food for vegans.  In fact, the menu was divided into the above mentioned categories.

Sherry and I opted for the Petecostal Fried Chicken, probably, the best fried chicken I've ever had.  So delicious.  We ordered black-eyed peas and mashed potatoes (Yeck!  Won't order the mashed potatoes again).  My feeling was "don't tamper with southern style mashed potatoes.  Don't put garlic or anything else in them).  So when I eat at Souther Charm Kitchen again, I will order yellow rice or mac 'n cheese.  Surely, that would be southern charm.

The cornbread was quite interesting as well.  Sweet, fluffy, light cornbread drizzled with thin caramel.  Too sweet!  Could have been dessert.

Sherry and I shared dessert: orange pascilla cake.  The light, fluffy cake batter had coconut and orange in it.  I must say it was delicious; but we could only eat half and brought the rest home for Mama.

If you don't like fried chicken, I have other options to suggest: oxtail, BBQ goat, classic chicken & waffles and much more.  I will go back to Southern Charm Kitchen if I have guests that are vegetarian or vegan.  This restaurant is right up their alley.

The $8 Carwash

Clay has been after me to get my Acadia washed in Gainesville for only $8.00.  Since we were in Gainesville today, I finally agreed.  Lord knows, my car needed washing.

I stood patiently under a large oak tree while Clay drove the Acadia through the $8 carwash.  But then I saw him pull out of the carwash and he yelled for me to tell the lady in the BP store that the washing stopped.  Soap drooled down the windshield, windows and doors. 

The lady walked to the carwash and reset a button and gave me a new receipt with the code to be punched in at the entrance of the carwash. "Hop in, Mom!" Clay shouted.  I climbed in the Acadia and promptly told Clay that I didn't like to be confined in a car with the windows rolled up on a hot day.  "You'll be fine.  Chill!" Clay quipped.

And once more the washing began.  The rinse cycle started when suddenly we heard BANG! THUMP!  BANG!   "Let's get out of here. I think the washing strings are tangled in the wheelchair lift.  We might have even broken the carwash. 

We zipped out and didn't even look back  . . . just high-tailed it for I-75.  Then we stopped in High Springs and I decided to look at the wheelchair lift.  Just curious, you know.

Oh, my word! The wheelchair lift had been broken and was dangling lopsided.

Yellow and red rubber strings were entwined in the wheelchair lift.  There is a happy ending to the $8 carwash story.  We drove straight to Fort White Automotive where the owner said,  "Sure.  We'll take it off for you . . . and it didn't cost me a dime!

I reminded Clay he could NEVER go back to that $8 carwash.  They would certainly recognize his face.

 

 

A Sunday Visit

I parked my car in the handicapped spot at the nursing home, feeling relieved that there was a parking spot at all.  I placed the yellow parking pass on the dashboard and hung the blue handicapped sign behind the rear view mirror.  I must get that chair lift off my vehicle, I thought. Soon . . . after the George reunion.

After that, I exited my Acadia and headed to the doors of the nursing home.  "Good morning," I chirped to a grey haired lady, the only resident basking in the sun.  I've not seen her before and felt  happy that she smiled at me with her pearly white teeth.  I signed in on the yellow name badge, slapped it on my blouse and headed toward the elevator, praying for a nice visit with my husband.

On the second floor I entered the day-room because there were many residents sitting in there, sitting in their power chairs and wheel chairs.  I wondered if I would see Truett dressed and staring at the elevator door or waiting for a familiar nurse who sticks her tongue out at him and he returns the gesture. Then they both laugh.

Truett was not in the day-room so I turned to leave.  A tiny, shriveled elderly woman raised her bony finger up, flicked it toward her chest a couple of times, motioning for me to go to her.  So I did.  "Did you come to take me home?" she questioned.  "No,"  I answered.  "I'm here to visit my husband."  The woman lowered her head to her chest and I felt sad for her.  I've certainly heard her question to me many times.

Truett was laying flat on his bed.  He was dressed; however, the slacks he had on were not his.   I told him he was wearing someone else's pants and he told me they fit pretty good.  Obviously, the slacks did not fit because there was a seven inch gap at the waist.  Then I wondered who helped him get dressed. 

A nurse walked in and told me they were going to get a crank bed for Truett because after he ate, he layed flat and then got sick.  She was asking for my permission to get a crank bed.  "This is not the first time," the nurse said.  I told her to do what she thought best.  I wouldn't want her job.  But wait . . . I did have her job when Truett was home.

My visit with my husband was pretty good and I left.  As I strolled to the Acadia I saw the lift attached to the back and thought, "Yes, after the George reunion."

In a quandry

Sherry and I usually talk twice a day by phone. We turned seventy years old last week and we are still overwhelmed by the number.  We don't feel 70.  We don't act 70.  So what's the big deal?

Sherry and I are trying to find our "new lives", lives without our spouses being at home with us.  We talk about missing the way life was before our lives changed.  "What are you going to do?" I ask my twin.  She usually says, "I don't know.  How about you?"  I respond, "I don't know.  Right now I am a caregiver to Mom."

And then Sherry said, "Your life was being a teacher for forty-six years.  Can you volunteer or get a part time job or substitute at the school?"  I thought carefully about each suggestion and said, "No . . .no . . .no to each suggestion because I am still a caregiver to my Mom.

Later, I called Sherry and told her I could tutor writing.  However, since Florida's writing standards have changed, I would need to do some research.  The one thing I know I could help students with is vocabulary.  Specific precise vocabulary.

So, I had a little hope this afternoon.  Tutoring is still rambling around in my brain like a ball being dropped off a mountain top.  Where it lands, we'll never know.

But where would I tutor?  Not at my home with these yapping dogs and needy cats and Mom.  No.  It would have to be at the Library perhaps.

Anyway.  Just a flitting thought about my future in the future.  I'm in a quandry.