from the porches

Hammer and Icicles

 

This Thanksgiving 2013, Clay, my friend, Deanna, and I went to Merry Jennifer and Sam's house for Thanksgiving.  It was the first Thanksgiving that my husband did not attend.  As usual, the food was delicious and I was stuffed after the meal.  This Thanksgiving was different for me.  Merry Jennifer had asked if I wanted to spend the night with her family and have Clay come home from lunch early and take Mom her dinner.  Clay agreed, so that's what happened. 

 After dinner and after the guests had left, Sam took Maddie and Oliver to play tennis in our brisk Florida weather.  Meanwhile, Merry Jennifer and I visited Truett at Gainesville Health Care Center.  When we arrived, we saw Truett wheeling himself from his room toward the dining hall.  He spied us and motioned us over.  GHCC had ordered a new tray which was attached to Truett's wheelchair.  The nurses feel the need to contain Truett since he has had several falls trying to transfer himself from the wheelchair to his bed.  The tray was snug against Truett's belly simply because Truett was not sitting up straight, but instead was slumped down and to the right.

Merry Jennifer and I waved at Truett and he yelled,  "Get me a hammer!"  Puzzled, we asked why.  "Just get me a hammer!"  he insisted.  "Icicles!  Got to break the icicles."  I thought maybe Truett might be cold.  Instead he kept asking for a hammer and repeating icicles.  He said, "I can't get the translation right," as Merry Jennifer and I tried to figure out what he meant.  We wheeled Truett into the dining hall where his food was served.  He wanted no part of eating, including Merry Jennifer's famous pumpkin pie.  It was very frustrating for me and my daughter.  Dealing with dementia and watching your loved one be confused or unable to express himself is just devastating emotionally.

 

Eventually, we pushed Truett back to his room and he insisted on getting in his bed.  We told him he couldn't get in the bed.  Truett called out his brother's name, "Kenneth!"   Merry Jennifer told Truett Kenneth was not here.  Ultimately, we left GHCC and my daughter and I both felt saddened.  In my mind I rationalized that Truett felt frozen and needed a hammer to break the ice to be free.  In my mind I rationalized that the wheelchair tray was too tight on his belly and he couldn't move. . . thus, frozen.  The last time he had a tray attatched to his wheelchair, my husband ripped it off and broke the wheelchair's arm off.

 

Then Merry Jennifer I drove to the UF farm to look for Sandhill Cranes.  There were none so we headed back to her house just as Sam and the grandchildren came back from hitting tennis balls.  And we settled  in for the night by cleaning up the rest of Thanksgiving dishes, watching TV, and checking phones and I-Pads.  I had the urge to call Mom to see if she was okay and ask about the Thanksgiving dinner Clay took back to her.  But eventually I decided not to call.  My friend, Deanna, was 'babysitting' Mom, so I knew she was in good hands, as well as the dogs and cats.  I had agreed to 'get away' for a night and that's just what I did.

 I went to bed around 9:30 P.M. and slept soundly.  Being an early riser, I awoke before anyone else,   completely relaxed and with thoughts of what a special family I have.  I had to push the faint call of hammer and icicles out of my mind as I drove home this morning in order to cope with a new day.  Thanksgiving 2013 was special. . . it was my first 'get-away' in two years.

Wal*Mart Wonder

Just look at this photo.  Is it your typical image of a Wal*Mart parking lot?  Probably not.

There is a new Super Wal*Mart on the way to Gainesville on Highway 441.  I stopped there last week while Clay went into the store.  In order to kill time, I meandered over to an adjacent pond and just couldn't believe the numbers of birds feeding in this man-made pond at the end of the Wal*Mart parking lot. 

I tried photographing the birds with my tiny instamatic Canon, but somehow the settings are all off and I never got a picture to show up on the screen.

I've made a trip to this Wal*Mart twice since that day to photograph the birds; and only today was I successful.  

I had a good day today.  Truett was fitted with a new hearing aid; therefore, when I talked to him, he could hear me.  There were no raised voices.  There was no frustration on his part because of his inability to hear me or to read my limited American Sign Language. 

I took this photograph before I visited Truett today; and somehow I knew my day would be a good one.  When I photographed this heron, I felt an 'inner peace'.

Wal*Mart is not all that bad.  You just have to look for the good.

You have to look for the "Wal*Mart Wonders"!

An Atypical Monday

 

I had my plans all formulated about how my day would go today.  Clay and I would have breakfast and then drive to Gainesville to visit Truett.  Easy as pie.  But things got quirky.  This is how my day actually went:

* At 9:30 A.M. Clay and I drive to town to the post office and then to the bank.

* Following that, we drove to High Springs to a pawn shop for Clay to see about upgrading his electric guitar.  That didn't work out for him.

* Next, we drove to Waffle House and ate breakfast.  Yum!

* Then we drove to Gainesville and stopped at the new Wal*Mart on Hwy. 441.  I sat in the car for twenty minutes while Clay searched for two videos to play.  While there, I saw fifty or more water birds at a small pond.  Herons, Ibis, Cranes.  I got out of the car to photograph them, but my small Canon was out of battery.  Lesson learned.  Always carry my Nikon!

* As we drove on into Gainesville, we stopped at two more pawn shops while Clay still searched the possibility of upgrading his electric guitar.  No dice.

*Finally, we headed down University Avenue to visit Truett at Gainesville Health Care Center; but, somehow Clay asked me to look at one of his tattoos on his arm.  I did.  It was his name written in Arabic, but somehow I thought it just looked like two fish hooks.  It seems someone questioned Clay about that tattoo and asked if Clay was from a third world country.  Without profiling intentionally, Clay does have those big brown eyes and olive complexion.

So here is where the day becomes atypical. 

"Mom, I want to get this tattoo covered up."  Silly me.  I thought he meant to put a big ace bandage over it.  But, no.  He wanted to get a new tattoo over that arabic name of his.  No problem.  By now it was 11:15 which meant we would probably visit Truett during lunch, an hour later.

HA!  Clay parked me in a gated parking lot where I waited and waited and waited and waited.  Enough already!  I got out of the car and headed to the tattoo shop in the hippie section on University Avenue.  I stood on the sidewalk and waited for Clay to come out of the tattoo shop.  I tried to look inconspicious. . . me a 70 year old woman just 'hanging out'.

In the meantime, a young woman walked up to me and looked me square in the eyes.  "Do you have any elderly words of wisdom you can give me?"  she asked.  "What?"  I answered.  I wasn't ready for a conversation.  Then she repeated the question.  "Words of wisdom?  No, I don't."  Guess which word she said that gave me pause.

In retrospect, I should have told this young woman, "Yes, wear a skirt a little longer, ditch the shredded tights, take that nose ring out of your nose, throw away that tacky white wig, and don't talk to strangers!"  But, I didn't say that to this girl who resembeled a prostitute to me..I think..but I'm not sure if I would know what a prostitute looked like. 

Anyway, to complete this story, the young woman then said, "Well, do you have a cigarette we could share?"  Can you imagine the look on my face when she used the word 'share'?  I told her I didn't smoke and she told me to have a nice day and then she sauntered off, looking for words of wisdom . . . but a cigarette for sure.

Eventually, I moved the car for fear of being towed away.  I walked across University Avenue all the while watching homeless men dig through garbage cans for used cigarette butts.  I was not comfortable one iota, so I went into the tattoo shop to wait for Clay.  "We're almost done, Mom."  he said.  "What's wrong?  You look stressed out." I pointed to my watch, which wasn't actually on my arm."I am son.  This was not how I wanted my day to go.  You've been in this shop almost two hours!" 

Then I fidgeted and fidgeted. I scanned the walls and noticed every freaking, ugly, disgusting tattoo cartoon possible.  I felt claustrophobic.  Clay winced a couple of times while the old dude with the foul mouth turned the two fish hooks on Clay's arm into a black rooster.  "Serves you right," I thought. 

* Finally.  Finally.  Finally we left and headed to Gainesville Health Care Center.  But, guess what?  There was not one parking space available.  Not there.  Not at the Emergency room parking lot.  Not at the Cancer Center parking lot.  I threw up my hands and stated, "Let's go.  I've had it."  Better yet, I suggested we go to Cody's Grill and get a long island iced tea and have some lunch.  Which we did.  Clay had a coke to drink so all was well.  My nerves finally untangled and I made the decision that going to the grocery could wait until tomorrow.  Everything else could wait until tomorrow.  Just get me home.  

* As we headed out Archer Road to I-75, we saw black flumes of smoke.  Ambulances and policemen and fire trucks passed us.  Something was on fire or there had to have been a horrible wreck.  Sure enough, firemen were climbing to the roof of Best Buy and Pet Smart.  My first thought with the way the world is today: BOMB.  But, to my understanding it was not a bomb.  Then I worried about all the cats, dogs, snake, iguanas, and fish at Pet Smart.  And that stressed me out. 

*One final stop before Clay and I ended our atypical Monday.  CVS drugstore to purchase vanilla frappachinos for Mom.  That was one thing on my list that could not wait.

*When we got home, I exhaled real loud and prayed, "Just give me a normal Monday, God." 

 

The Fair

I believe the last time I went to a county fair was when Clay was a sophomore in high school.  Back then, we always went to the fair at night.  The lights were brighter, the music was louder and the unsuspected jumped out at us.

But I'm way older now and well, I've been hankering for fun.  Fair fun, in fact.  Not so much the fun for me.  Just an opportunity to take photographs of something other than the same old water foul. 

Upon entering the gates, I smelled fair smells.  Sweet succulent funnel cakes, fluffy powdered sugared elephant ears, Nettles sausage dogs, kettle corn, etc. It didn't take much to whisk me back to 1997.

I felt a ping when I saw these twisting barrels because back then, I would have ridden in them when my children were younger.  They are similar to the teacup ride, only slower...for toddlers.

"Come on, Mom.  You can at least ride the ferris wheel,"  Clay said.

'No, son.  I'm not riding anything.  Not at my age."  And I meant it!

Colors.  Sights.  Sounds. 

And then I happened on this booth which was giving away iguanas for the prize of tossing balls in a cup. 

MEMORY:  When I was young and living in Tennessee, we went to the Tennessee State Fair for a field trip.  One booth had Floroida chameleons they gave away for tossing balls in a cup.  Chameleons with tiny gold safety pins tied on a string around the chameleons' necks. 

Well, I won a chameleon.  So I pinned the tiny gold safety pin on my blouse and let this Florida chameleon run around on my shoulder and up and down my blouse all the way back to my home town of Clarksville, Tennessee. 

Eventually, the Florida chameleon died and turned brown.  Folks, today that would be animal cruelty.  (Don't let me even get started on what we did with lightning bugs or June bugs.)  But, we didn't have video games back then.  We played with nature.

The Carousel..always a favorite of mine.  I pretended they were real horses and I wasn't afraid.

Not for me!  No way!

Clay and Deanna are riding The Tornado in this photo.  Clay decided he was too old to ride fair rides after this one.  Deanna was way to adventurous for Clay.  His words, "Mom, I'm too old for this stuff!"  Poor baby.  He's only thirty-six years old; but  Deanna had too much spunk for Clay.  She wanted to spin and spin and spin and spin.  "You go, girl!"

So, folks.  That was my day at the Columbia County Fair.  I didn't ride rides.  I remembered fond memories.  I smelled fair food.  I watched people and I took photographs. 

It was a fun day for me!