RIP

(I couldn't post this in the same item as my mini-vent.)

Friday morning I lost a colleague and friend in a senseless car accident. She was driving to judge a competition when someone rear-ended her on the highway, her car spun out of control and went into the median, and she struck a tree. Mercifully, she died instantly. Rain, fog, and excessive speed of the other driver appear to be the factors. Suddenly, a young (42) woman who had been part of our work family was gone.

The information reached us erratically, first from television reports, then in articles on web pages, and then the confirmation by school administration. Phone "trees" don't work well during summer vacation when people are in/out/about/on vacation. But then suddenly the bad news is everywhere. I'd forgotten that she was a former Miss NH, and that aspect of her life made her much more a public figure than some of us were ready to see on the evening news last night.

It's still not real to me, and it won't be until I walk into the building and know with more finality that she's not there. Not only are her family members affected(she's divorced, no kids, but has two brothers, her mother, and a niece), but we teachers, her summer school students and the kids who thought she'd be their teacher for the upcoming school year will feel the impact, too. She was a part of the theatre crowd, directing, being a stagehand, acting and singing, and she often encouraged her students to understand the literature they read by acting out portions of it. Educationally, her focus was on her students, providing a balance of holding them accountable and supporting them in their growth.

Socially, Deb had experienced a short marriage and a divorce, a period of dating, and most recently, an increase in her serenity among her friends. She was feeling strength as an independent woman. Odd as it may sound, I'm glad that was her frame of mind at the time when her life unexpectedly ended because it means that there was less turmoil to trouble her and carry with her.

Yes, this kind of tragedy does make me much more aware of the fragility and unpredictability of my own life and of my loved ones. I may or may not be leery of driving that stretch of highway in foggy, rainy conditions, but I will be more aware of each day as an opportunity to enjoy my life and my friends and family while we're all here. I'm just sorry that it took this kind of circumstance to bring the message home to me so vividly.

RIP, Deb.

grrrr...

Why do men in some countries automatically think that American women are stupid? (Then again maybe it's not limited to American women...)

I work in and online Help Desk, and sometimes a male client will arrive asking technical questions. That's fine, and I do know that being a Mac aficionado, my PC knowledge is less sure and extensive, but when I give an answer and it's scorned and then a male helper gives the same response and it's readily accepted, I fume. I also simply back out of Help Desk before I say something unbecoming, like WTF???

Good stuff

The sugar snap pea plants that looked terribly shriveled from the lack of sun a couple of weeks ago are producing enough peas that we've had a couple of meals with them. There's something so satisfying about eating veggies you've grown.

Waldo, the not so magnificent - also known as the little furry bitey boy - has taken to the run that we put between the front door and a maple tree across the yard. He seems to enjoy it, in fact. We've also discovered that he prefers his water and food bowls in the living room, up on the hearth, so he can eat and slurp on his own schedule with us nearby. He still hasn't eliminated his nightly tear around the downstairs, but at least it's shorter and he quiets down a little more quickly.

The new vacuum cleaner works like a dream. It picks up dog hair and all the sand tracked in by rain damp shoes, boots, and paws. It's also truly picking up more dirt than the previous ones, and its dirt cup is truly easier to empty. Now if it'll last for a while, I'll be a happy homemaker!

I found two sets of nice, almost new summer (percale, not flannel) sheets tucked away in a drawer in the guest room. Added to the collection I already had on the shelves in the bathroom, they give me lots of options and I won't have to buy any more sheets for the beds for quite a while.

I realized today that I still have a little more than a month left before I have to become the schoolmarm again. Woo hoo!

The Canadian rocker that Sis3 gave me a couple years ago fits nicely into the corner of the dining room so I have a really comfy place to sit and read with a cup of tea.

Four of my dad's nutcrackers look nice lined up on the dining room table. To me, those and his neckties are such a part of him that I'm glad to own them.

I was able to find a frame and glass large enough to accommodate the family genealogy wheel that needs a new frame. I have my own copy, but this one belongs to my mother, and the glass was the only casualty of her move into her assisted living suite. Since it was my fault for being careless with it, I'm the one to reframe it. I was afraid it might need to be a cu$tom job, but I think this will work just fine, and the frame is nicer, in my opinion, than the old one.

I was able to find a couple of plastic bins and a tote case in which I can transport the open trays of my jewelry to craft fairs. I've tried a wire tray and a laundry basket, covering the trays with fleece to keep the items in their open boxes and dry, but in rain and snow they could be awkward to carry. These will fit on a luggage dolly so I'll be able to load and unload quickly and without fear of my product being compromised in the rain. The notecards are already in plastic sleeves, but I'll use one oversized plastic bag to keep the revolving display dry and the other one to transport the table covers. At least everything will start out dry!

The black lamb leather jacket that I ordered on sale online from Wilson Leather fits like it was made for me and it feels buttery soft, as advertised. Sometimes the descriptions and the size charts aren't very truthful. Shock! But this time the advertising was completely accurate. Of course I won't be wearing it soon due to rain and warm(ish) weather, but I know it's there when I want it.

After diligent searching, I located the woven cotton summer blanket for our bed and the pink and white quilted comforter to give to my sister. I seem to have no organization as to where I store bedding, so I need to get on that.

Finally, Sis3 is truly back in the fold. Having health care professionals who are actually paying attention to her overall condition and providing also better nutritional regimens and more effective meds in addition to down to earth therapy has really helped her. There's still a long way to go, but she's looking healthier and she's committing to visiting Mom weekly for lunch, and to accompanying her to some local health appointments. Selfishly, I'm happy that her stepping up will relieve some of the burden I've been carrying alone for the past year or so. I think it's also going to help her mental health recovery to have a better relationship with Mom than she did in her past.

All good stuff :)

Balance part 2

As a January baby, I'm familiar with the two-headed Roman god Janus, protector of entrances and exits, of comings and goings. That duality carries over to the Chinese yin-yang symbol, black and white segments that fit together, each with a part of the other in itself. These, more than Libra's scales, mean, to me, balance.

In my last post I tempted the gods by expressing my joy with the apparent perfection of life, so of course they smacked me down later the same day, not badly but clearly.

The short version: phone call from someone at Mom's new digs asking if I could drive her to a doctor's appointment that's in an hour (I live 45 minutes away) to see about the pain in her back. From when she fell on July 5. What? Several emails among sisters later, I find that Mom had slid off her couch and landed hard on the carpeted floor, cracking her tailbone. Apparently she'd both complained about the pain off and on in the interim and refused treatment, but once the diagnosis of fracture became official, she's taking ibuprofen for it and feeling more comfortable. Other emails to care manager and medical overseer in her building confirmed that communication had somehow broken down, and that the services like transportation to appointments are offered with details in fine print that my sibs and I are now beginning to see.

I'm glad that Mom has less pain and is more comfortable physically, that she's feeling safe and "at home" there as Sis3 related to me, and that she's not upset that the singer and his pregnant wife (her auditory hallucinations) have returned, but this incident was a wakeup call that even with caregivers 24/7 in the assisted living situation, Mom still requires watching by family. And so do the workings of the assisted living place.

Many of our plants in the garden and in windowboxes more or less drowned in the month of rain, but one of the surprises has been the flourishing of our roses. The old fashioned white and pink rosa rugosas and the new Mister Lincoln red roses smell sweet and delicious enough to eat, and the two bush roses by the posts in the yard have produced dozens of gorgeous blooms. Even the totally neglected deep pink roses on the eastern end of the house seem to have doubled in size, and the blossoms are large and aromatic. Out of this spate of terrible unsummery weather has come this floral blessing. Once again, there is balance.

Oh happy day

The sun is out, the air is dry, the breeze is light, I've finished today's chores and it's just barely noon. The vacuum cleaner I picked up at Home Depot is a winner, picking up more sand and dog hair than I could've imagined. The replacement reel fits the cordless string trimmer so the mister will be able to neaten up the yard when he gets home from his open track session. The homemade chicken vegetable soup tastes even better after it's been refrigerated overnight, and I remembered to write down the recipe. I have three books going and one to which I need to return - it's been dormant since late April - but I also have the desire to make pretty things out on the porch of my shop. Yes, today life is very good.

An observation

Re: Facebook

Sometimes I just roll my eyes at the excess information on my screen that I did NOT need to know.
TMI, folks. This IS a public website, don'tchaknow.

Where's the rest?

For me, there are two kinds of vacation: the active ones when I'm/we're on a trip or investigating interesting places, and the restful ones when I can relax and regenerate. So far this year has been the former, in spades.

Two days after our final day at school, little mister Bitey Boy came to live with us after being with my sister for about seven months. Being a rescued dog (from GA; no information about circumstances), he's somewhat a mystery. We think he'll be a year old in mid August. We think he's mostly terrier. We know that he has fits of insane energy in the later part of each day. We know he's smart, curious, persistent, headstrong, and unwilling to be pushed away or told no. He can be a cute, sweet cuddler, but he also paws at me with his strong little claws and nips or bites if I don't pay attention to him. He's a puppy, still, and we're only in week three of our lives together, and he's better than he was the first few days, but he still has to be leashed when he's outdoors and watched when he's indoors. Restful? I think not.

Three days after that, the focus on my mother went from several days a week to a daily deal for two solid weeks, some days from early morning to evening. Paperwork, phone calls, visits to counselor and doctor, more paperwork, measuring the new suite and making accurate floor plans, emailing siblings at length each day to keep them apprised of the situation, and then the nuts and bolts of The Big Move overwhelmed any other responsibilities. Personalities had to be taken into consideration, real and perceived heirlooms had to be accounted for, clothing and possessions were taken in truckloads and armloads to the new suite, and time was spent daily with Mom. It was a long haul but I came to understand better my propensity to be a packrat, and my goal for this summer is to simplify my own house as a result. I'm thinking that, now, my energies can be focused here at home for this endeavor with only one of her medical appointments for me to attend in August. The audiologist will have the results of a hearing test, and he'll give us an idea if we should investigate further with a neurologist.

The other concern is my life as an artisan. My shop exists in name only, at this point, since I haven't put out the OPEN flag even once this season. That means my income will flow from sales at the bakery gift shop - and the Lake bracelet of which I've already made seven - and two other shops in town (more upscale gift shop that asked for some bracelets to sell on consignment, and a hairdresser who displays consignment items from good quality artisans in her shop), and from craft fairs. It used to be that the craft fair season began with the Hebron Fair on the last Saturday in July, but now it begins a month earlier, and I'm sitting under my tent or at indoor tables every other Saturday. I already have one under my belt, and I had to stay up late a few nights to make product for it. The next one is this coming Saturday, and there's been much less of a scramble to get ready for it. This is the kind of activity that can be relaxing so I've been craving more time to do it.

The most restful pleasure in which I've been able to indulge twice so far is reading outdoors. I have three books going, and another that begs to be read, so I'm greatly anticipating the arrival of more sunny days, or even half days. Making jewelry and reading outdoors are such joys that they allow me to feel wealthy and satisfied. When we can figure out how to manage the Furry Little Bitey Boy (FLBB) and not have to supervise or avoid his teeth every waking moment, I'll be happy to read and bead and gain some much needed rest.

A Moving Experience

Mom is moved into her suite in assisted living. Hooray!

For the last week before The Big Move, she talked about how glad she'd be to move away from the voices she's been hearing and into the new place that felt so much better than her apartment building. What a relief it was to find her looking forward to the nice two-room suite with large bathroom and huge walk-in closet in assisted living. She's still part of the retirement community where she's lived since my dad passed away, so some of the personnel are the same, but the level of attention to the residents is tremendously different. Independent living means just that: people live in apartments (with buttons for calling emergency personnel in medical emergencies), and although there are activities, people are considered entirely self-sufficient so the social life within the building depends on residents going out of their rooms to attend them. Residents decide whether to cook their own meals or purchase them in the cafe. Most still drive, they manage their own lives, and they don't require much of any help. At this point in her life, my mother needs much more than that, so assisted living is the best option.

In this facility's assisted living residence, the two wings are large squares with the suite doors opening onto a common balcony that overlooks the floor below. There are many large and nicely appointed sitting spaces for daily coffee klatches in the morning, viewing television on a large screen tv, libraries, card playing, computer use, and several different libraries. There's a laundry room on the floor but residents' laundry is done for them on a weekly basis (which means name tags ironed into every sheet, towel, sock, sweater, etc.) and housekeeping changes their beds weekly and cleans the apartment every other week. There's a beauty salon on her floor where my mother had her hair done yesterday, and on the bottom floor there's a lovely dining room where meals are served. It's like a small restaurant because each meal provides a selection of main dish and sides, and the wait staff comes around to take your order, delivers it, clears, and offers to package leftovers for folks who want to take them to their rooms for later consumption. But the part that gives my siblings and me peace of mind is the health care that's the essence of assisted living in this community.

The folks who run this facility are concerned about the whole person. Not only do they keep track of what meals each resident eats (not just for financial purposes but for nutritional ones), but they take care of medications twice a day, and they respond to a pager to answer any and all questions or problems the residents have. They drop in just to say hello and see if there's anything they need or would like to talk about. They require that residents sign out of the building when they leave so they're accounted for if any "event" (fire drill, etc.) occurs. (That's something she'll need to get used to; she left the building to visit us at her old apartment and "help" us sort things without signing out which caused the staff to call all the contact phone numbers, tracking her down as she was with me buying a tiny refrigerator. We had a little talk about why she couldn't neglect signing out again.) A physician and a counselor visit the building weekly. Perhaps most noteworthy is the genuine kindness that every staff person there shows to every resident, no matter how many times they need to repeat responses to the same question. They know their clients well, they know the habits of elderly folks well, and they firmly believe in each person's right to live in dignity. We kids are thrilled that our mother is in this place that feels so right to her and for her.

I'll take her to the audiologist this afternoon as one of my last medical journeys with her, even though the staff there could do it. My reasoning is that this doctor may be able to help manage the auditory hallucinations that Mom has been having, and I want to be there both to be sure she tells him about it and to hear his verdict about what, if anything, can be done to ease them. She still hears "music" which I believe to be the hum that's background noise in lots of places: air conditioning/heating, lights, machines, vending machines, automobile engines, etc. The "music" she hears in the new suite (without an actual kitchen, it's not truly an apartment) isn't threatening to her, as it was in the old apartment, and "it's too low volume for me to hear any words" so it's not threatening to her, she says. The fact remains that she still hears "music" that needs to be accounted for in order for her (and us) to feel completely comfortable with it.

Bro has been here since Sunday, up from Texas, to help Sis2 and me (Sis3 is in charge of ironing name tags into every fabric possession other than curtains that Mom has, a huge but vital job) in clearing out the old apartment. I may have mentioned before that her apartment was a cluttered mess, but the job has been more overwhelming than any of us really expected. Mom was allowed (I'm the one who helps explain to her what she can have in the new place) two doll cases full of dolls, and she's happy with that, believing that Sis2 and I will take good care of and sell appropriately her other dolls. They're being stored in a temp controlled storage area for now. However, the five rooms of the apartment were crammed to overflowing with assorted stuff accumulated over the past 62 years. Much has been donated to the local Salvation Army and the retirement community's Sunshine Fund auction, some small stuff with practical use or sentimental value has been taken by us kids, and some is making its way out in black plastic bags to the dumpster. For the past couple of nights, Bro has stayed here with us since the cost of this trip is steeper than he'd planned for, and I'd forgotten how much he talks. He's someone who's not content with silence, so that's been a little adjustment, but he's been such a help and he'll be gone on Saturday, so I can endure for a couple more nights.

Let me say once more what a relief it is that all these pieces have fallen nicely into place, and that Mom is in just the right living situation for her.