from the porches

bruise bracelets

I wear many bracelets on my arms.  They are bruises, unfortunately.  I wear long sleeve shirts when it is 80 degrees because I am embarrassed because of what I call my bruise bracelets.

I have been a caregiver of my mother and my husband since 2010.  It's been a hard road.  A road I never knew I would have to travel.  After forty-six years of teaching, caregiving took over my life. 

My 89 year old mother is easy to care for.  We only had a problem for about six weeks when she stopped taking her anti-depression medication; but we got that solved eventually by switching her meds.

Since January 2011, I have been the caregiver of my husband.  Things were fine until he took a couple of falls.  But that wasn't the biggest culprit.  Dementia has set it.  Over the past year, my husband has declared himself an invalid; and he has become one.  When he raises both arms in the air for me to put deodorant on, I cuss silently but do it.  When I have to wipe his butt because he cannot stand and do it himself, I cringe. But I've learned to accept that as well. 

I have had patience.    Every morning I prayed and asked for help to get me through the day.  Yet, when I looked in the mirror, I looked like a scared rabbit.

However, my husband's increasing dementia has caused me greater problems.  He cussed me constantly.  He was impatient.  He was impulsive.  He was  violent and has grabbed my arm so tightly that I permanently wear "bruise bracelets."

I've been told by my family to deal with it.  Put him in a nursing home with full health care.  My answer was always, "I'll do it when I know when the time is right."

Friday night was my breaking point.  Because my  husband couldn't hear with his hearing aides and  was impatient, he became violent.  "That's it!", I said.  "I cannot do this anymore."

So, I called 911 and had him admitted into Shand's Hospital and then he was transferred to Gainesville Health Center, a nursing home.

He pleads with me daily to bring him home.  I tell him I can't because of the mental and physical abuse caused by his dementia.  He doesn't understand.  I tell him I am a broken woman.  I need time to heal.  Eventually, he may come home, and maybe I will pay the price for full time health care workers.  But, I cannot do it any longer.  Yet, he doesn't understand.

I feel sooooo guilty; but, I can't keep on like it is.  I have been a caregiver for him, my 89 year old mom, my two puppies, my two cats and Clay.  However; Clay has been one of my biggest supporters.  He is driving again and driving responsibly, I might add.  It's been since 2010 since I have not driven.  Thanks, Clay.

Now, my biggest issues are trying to convince my husband that I have to re-heal before he can come home.  He doesn't understand it now even though I tell him over and over again.

I am a broken woman and it will take time. He doesn't understand it now, even after I explain it to him; but, I have to emotionally heal, first.

Prayers are welcome.

I'm tired of bruise bracelets.

 

my view

Just wanted you to know that this is my view from my closet area where my computer is. 

I know I get down alot, but my computer  station is truly a beautiful view and a place where I'm often inspired. 

When Truett said, " Your computer will be in the closet,"  I felt awful, and kind of neglected.

  But, I don't have an ordinary closet.  I have a huge space for my closet.  And, I have the best computer station in the whole wide world.  Just take a look.

This view is where I see Tippy, the squirrel.  I see the wild turkeys.  I see the deer.  I love my computer station, even if it is in a closet.

 

tippy

For months Mom and I have watched this squirrel, Tippy, bounding across the driveway, up the trees, onto the fence in front of our house.  We first noticed Tippy when he was just a baby squirrel.  Tippy stood out from all the rest of the squirrels because of his tail.  One day Mama said, "Let's name that squirrel Tippy.  So we did.  We worry about Tippy because of Molly, our yard cat.  (Once again, "Thanks, Sherry!  Now I don't only worry about the birds.  I worry that Molly will pounce on Tippy).  It's fun, though, to be sitting on the front porch and hear my mama screech, "Oh!  There's Tippy!"  It doesn't take much to make us happy around here!

magical light

The light on our Eastern porch was exceptionally nice this morning as I was putting Maggie and Lily outside.  

I paused, studied the patterns on the wall, then decided to get my camera and take a picture.

I was glad I did because too many times I am in too big of a hurry and lose that magical, calming light.

Mom's bedroom is on the Eastern side of the house and one day she called for me to come in her bedroom.  She showed me the patterns on the wall and said, "It's 10:00 o'clock.  Every morning I watch the shadows.  I can tell the time by the shadows on my wall." 

 

Then later this afternoon as I was pulling around to the carport I noticed leaf patterns on the tin roof of the gardening shed.  I started to drive on around, but thought, "No.  There are those beautiful patterns again."

I stopped the car, got out, and snapped a picture; and I was glad I did.

I love the magic caused by light.
 
 
 

 

sago palms

I saw a nurse at the hospital this morning whose hair was black on the top and orange underneath.  Her hair reminded me of our Sago palms that got bit by the hard freeze several weeks ago.

With that in mind, I chose to walk out in the rain this afternoon and photograph our sago palms. Even though we had covered these sago palms, the sheets eventually blew off and the damage was done. 

Depending on the light and whether I was facing North or East, the palm fronds changed their hue from a dark golden color to a light golden color.

I think it's beautiful, but I should probably research whether these palm fronds will fall off or remain golden.  Right now this is about the only color I have in my yard.  Well, except for the . . .

  camellias.  That's the best part about living in Florida.  Color year round.

sunrise

This is the sunrise I saw as I drove to work this morning.

Say no more.

what's a porch for

 

My porches are my tranquilizers. 

After a day at work, and three hours running errands afterward, sitting on my porches calms me down.

The insides of my porches don't look quite this orderly anymore.  No, There are more wicker chairs and tables.

What was I thinking?  In 2005 I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, snarfing up wicker before someone else bought it.  Here's a word of advice.  .  .  Don't do it. 

Those antique dealers in High Springs had me pegged.  They could tell it in my eyes,  "This lady will pay anything for this crappy old piece of wicker."

And I did.

Why?

Because if you're running around like a chicken with its head cut off, looking for wicker, you may very well buy pieces of wicker you wish you'd never seen before?  Just to buy it.

Oh, I am a romantic.  I had to have wicker.  The older the better.  I bought a really neat fragile rocking chair that some mama in the 1700's,  early 1900's must have rocked her precious southern children in.  They probably had names like Standis Collin Swarthworth or Camilla Regina Bellamy.  But after sitting in it a few times, I gave up and gave it to Clay.

The point is, if you buy wicker, buy it new because the older wicker (painted white) sheds white flakes all on your beautiful porches.  Which brings me back to my porches.

 

This afternoon I came home from work and three hours of running errands, and my porches had been recleaned, professionally.

They were so shiny that I could almost see my reflection in the wood. 

So within a half hour or so, Truett and I began putting all that wicker back down to the floor  from a fouton. . .when CRASH! 

A tall floor lamp flipped to the floor, sending shards of glass everywhere!

No problem.  Sweeping up a floor with glass all over it is NOTHING compared to teaching a fourth grader how to write a decent essay. 

So I called my ready-available handyman, Clay, to help me, knowing it would cost me $5.00.  But it was worth it in the end.  All the furniture is in place.  The glass is swept up, and the porch is ready to sit on once again.

Which is exactly what I did to calm myself down after a long day at work . . . and running errands. 

Yes, I sat out there on the front porch and listened to the rain steadily coming down.  I watched the oak and cherry tree branches bend and swirl during this rain that we're having. I composed my thoughts and let go of needless bits of brain trash and headed to my computer. 

And it calmed me down.

Good-night.

what's going on?

As I sat down at the computer tonight I asked myself,  "What's going on?  What's new I can share?"

Then I thought I could tell you about the little preschooler that literally fell out of her daddy's truck onto the gravel while I stood there with the truck door ajar and how I lifted her up and told the dad,  "She's okay" as I hurried her in the gate.

Or I could tell you about the disrespectful class I had the last hour of my working day today and how this one girl gave me a wrong telephone number to call in order to reach her dad.  I fumed over that one for a short while.  But, not to worry.  I'll deal with it in the morning.  Gotcha' kid!

Hey, I could tell you how wonderful Maddie and Oliver were when I took them to swim lessons today and how they fell apart once they reached the safety of their parents.  They were just too darn exhausted. But I had no good pictures to show, so I kept thinking.

Then I wondered why fall takes on such a hurried, harried pace.  It is my favorite season; but I am so busy, it seems I don't relax and enjoy it.  Then I remembered an essay a fourth grader wrote today about relaxing on her porch in a hammock with a glass of tea in one hand and a book in the other and a cat purring on her lap.I thought it sounded much like me during the summer.  She ended with,  "Ah, the relaxing days of fall."  And I envied this nine year old.

So what's going on?

The Gator Nation is gearing up for the Florida vs. Arkansas homecoming game on Saturday.  The big parade is tomorrow, but our schools are not out because we're in Columbia County...not Alachua.  Too bad.  One year I may take that Friday off and go to the Homecoming Parade.

But wait!  After this year I'll be able to go to EVERY parade because I WON'T BE WORKING!!  At school, that is.  Heaven forbid I may have to supplement our retirement dollars.  But that was only a fleeting thought that I will not allow to formulate.  So there!

Okay.  Here's something new. 

The other day I had the opportunity to watch ducks at the lake at North Florida Regional Hospital.

Yep!

I watched them mate and I took photographs of the whole thing.  Many of the photographs were blurry.  Too much action going on.  But the strange part was . . . three maintenance men relaxing in their truck watched ME TAKING PHOTOGRAPHS OF DUCKS MATING!.

I can only imagine what they thought of that pervert with the camera.

joy to my heart

This afternoon after Truett came in from working, he asked,  "Did you blog today?"

"Nope," I snapped.  "I had nothing to say. . .e pecially after my last two stupid posts."

And then we went about our afternoon chores in High Springs: cleaners, check on weed-eater, buy mower blades and last but not least. . .Lotto!

Well, about 6:30 p.m., after we were finished with chores and were resting before the thought of a dinner came to fruition, I called my twin, Sherry. 

While I was chatting with her I said, "Wait.  Listen to this.  It's starting to rain." 

And I held the phone out toward the driveway for her to listen to one of the sweetest sounds in the world in Florida.

Rain.  Rain in Florida, after a long, hot, humid day, is a glorious sound.

No lightning.

No thunder.

Just the steady drumming of rain on the roof and an occasional Slat! Splat! on the sidewalk.

I have no picture with this post.

I have nothing that can tell you of the wondrous smell of rain.  But then, I think maybe GLADE'S SPRING RAIN HOUSEHOLD SPRAY would be the closest thing for you to relate to.

It is now 7:16 p.m. and the steady rain continues, although there is thunder. 

AsI told Sherry, "The rain brings joy to my heart."

   

setting september sun

Last week Truett was grilling a couple of ribeye steaks around 7:00 p.m.  I was doing my part by watching him cook. 

Then I started looking beyond the sizzling steaks and the cook and focused out toward the driveway. 

Since I was sitting in a pretty low deck chair, I decided to get up for a closer look.  Oh, how I loved that autumn light shining on the gazebo.

I walked toward the gazebo, camera in hand, because I didn't want to lose this light. . .ever.

I wanted this picture to remain with me forever.

But, of course, when I walked toward the gazebo, the angle was all wrong and the light didn't seem as magical anymore.

However, I still love the setting September sun.