Yes, that's what I'm missing at the Wharf on the beach Aug. 6th! Now, putting extreme self pity aside,
Very dark chocolate bars with ground up coffee beans in them have become my self comfort, my woogie. Yum.
Recovery going a bit rocky. Have decided the dogs will never be "straightened" up - poor things. Added another special diet for the one who returned from the kennel with bloody diarreah.
Mother is getting around some, but this has knocked the soup out of her. Leg swelling a lot, but I think partially due to the four Whopper diet she won't give up. Tonight I'm adding meatloaf for her to the dog buffet repertoire. Thank God the boyfriend has found someone else to chauffer him about.
I finally had it this morning - she was going on about my son who had passed away, about this one and that one not treating him right (according to her book) and I finally got up and said, well, I think Rod would be very sad to know that you are still harboring such resentment and bitterness after twenty some years, when he was such a forgiving accepting person. "He loved you so much, I'm sure he feels very hurt when he hears you talking like that." Well THAT turned into, from her, "I'm so sorry I hurt YOUR feelings." Yeh, mother, my fault again. Aaaaaaargggghhhhhhh.
I'm still trying to get my bearings - coming here is so hard. I haven't been able to make myself go to the cemetery yet. When I get myself emotionally geared to go, I will take fresh flowers to lay there because if I take silk ones, she will remove them and replace them with what she wants there, as soon as she can walk. Ahhh, life. Life and Death. And the times in between.
Time to leave Safeway WIFI and go back to duties. Mercy, it is cold here - 60 centigrade - people in winter coats - I didn't have enough sense to bring a pair of jeans and trying to find a pair of women's jeans here in super long legs is a futile effort. I have tendonitis in left forearm and my sweatshirt is impossible to get on - I tried this a.m., it's a bit small, and couldn't get it on with bad arm. I refuse to wear my mother's clothes. Did that way too many years in high school and when a poor, single, divorced mom to make ends meet. Beige and blue with pink flowers will never grace this body again.
Odd, how when we are with parents, we never really leave that role of "child" even when we are cast in role of caregiver. I think it is worse for daughters than for sons - maybe not, maybe just in different ways.
Well, returning to "the house." Later - - - -