Yesterday I came up with the idea to go to my mom's and dad's and cut the grass for my Pa. It needed to be done and the forecast was calling for rain later, which would make it un-cut-able later when my dad would be coming home from work. Also, it seemed like a nice thing to do.
So I pulled his lawnmower out of the shed and went through the motions to start it. Squish squish squish to prime the motor with gas, grip the handle and then yank the starting cord. The cord was considerably longer than then one one my lawn mower and in a different place. I failed to get it started. I tried again and again and again. Left it alone for a while, tried again and then admitted defeat.
I phoned my dad and told him that if he wanted someone to look after his grass while he is on his cross-America tour this fall, he'd better get an easier to start lawnmower.
My next project was to wash Truck in the driveway with Dad's power washer. After a long search for soap, a struggle with getting the water connected and hitting my head on a hanging plant, I finally was able to start washing. I worked on my parents' car first, as it was in the driveway. I finished it and then moved it out, and Truck in. I got a quarter of Truck soaped and rinsed when the power washer died. I did not want to tell my dad about that one.
I finished washing Truck by hand with a hose and a brush. I then turned to the motorhome and decided to wash the bugs off the front of it. I soon forgot all about that dead power washer and got lost in the zen-ness of rubbing away the bug guts to reveal a clean, white surface.
Later that evening my mom mentioned the power washer to my dad. I braced myself for the grilling about what I was doing when it stopped working, was I being careful not to get it wet, and where is the thing now. But instead, my dad asked, "where did you have it plugged in?"
"Where the motorhome is plugged in."
"Did you check the breaker?"
"Um. No."
So the good news is, the power washer is not burned out. The bad news is, the fridge in the motorhome was not receiving power for a good eight hours. There was ice cream and a bag of ice in there.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
It must be 11 o'clock somewhere
I am on vacation. I woke up a couple of times this morning, checked my watch and gave myself permission to go back to sleep for a little while longer. When I looked and saw that it was 8:27 I decided it was time to rise and shine. I stopped by the thermostat to check the current inside temperature. The 22 degree reading it gave did not prompt me to turn on the air conditioning, but the clock there said it was only 7:35. That contraption has a habit of losing time and dates so I adjusted it.
I went into the kitchen and looked at the two boxes of Shredded Wheat I picked up in America on the weekend--that's right, I went all the way to America to get geriatric cereal. I also bought two pairs of shoes, two summer skirts, a pair of sunglasses and a heap of other items I actually needed (okay, so I didn't need the second pair of shoes, but I did need the first, they are navy blue and I don't have any navy blue shoes). Instead of pouring a bowl of cereal though I reached for my last piece of Rice Crispie cake. Then I spotted the time on the stove--7:37. I looked at the clock on the microwave and saw the same thing. I started to sense a pattern. Mac, my laptop, said it was only seven and a half hours into the day and so did the cable box. Majority rules? Or am I in some kind of twilight time zone, stuck between Manitoba and Alberta time? What day is it? How long have I been here for? Oh wait, I see, I left my watch on stopwatch and it's been running since eleven o'clock last night. Gah!
Anyway, welcome to day two of my 2010 summer holidays. I can never decide if I want to spend my holidays sleeping in or trying to pack as much as possible into every day I don't have to go sit at a desk. Maybe today will be a pack it in kind of day, since I started it an entire hour early already. Wish me luck.
I went into the kitchen and looked at the two boxes of Shredded Wheat I picked up in America on the weekend--that's right, I went all the way to America to get geriatric cereal. I also bought two pairs of shoes, two summer skirts, a pair of sunglasses and a heap of other items I actually needed (okay, so I didn't need the second pair of shoes, but I did need the first, they are navy blue and I don't have any navy blue shoes). Instead of pouring a bowl of cereal though I reached for my last piece of Rice Crispie cake. Then I spotted the time on the stove--7:37. I looked at the clock on the microwave and saw the same thing. I started to sense a pattern. Mac, my laptop, said it was only seven and a half hours into the day and so did the cable box. Majority rules? Or am I in some kind of twilight time zone, stuck between Manitoba and Alberta time? What day is it? How long have I been here for? Oh wait, I see, I left my watch on stopwatch and it's been running since eleven o'clock last night. Gah!
Anyway, welcome to day two of my 2010 summer holidays. I can never decide if I want to spend my holidays sleeping in or trying to pack as much as possible into every day I don't have to go sit at a desk. Maybe today will be a pack it in kind of day, since I started it an entire hour early already. Wish me luck.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Father's Day
On Friday night my mom drove me home. Dad was back at the hospital with my aunt.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.
I nodded but the tears were coming.
"Are you sure? You can come and stay at our place," she said.
"I just want my dad," I said in tears as she pulled me in for a hug.
My uncle died on Friday afternoon. They were not able to control the swelling in his brain that was connected to the stroke and it eventually killed him. I was in a family room at the St. Boniface Hospital with my family, my cousins and some of their mom's family when they announced that it was over. Tracy and I hugged dad. I felt grateful at that moment because I had a dad that I could hug. I didn't want to let go. But I also felt bad because my cousins were in the room and they wouldn't ever get to hug their dad again. I wondered if they saw us embracing and if we made the moment for them even worse. I hope not.
Even though it was over, it wasn't. Dad had to be there for other people a lot --as a brother, a brother-in-law, a son, and just for himself as a grieving person, and I found myself missing him terribly when I couldn't be with him. I am aware now of how I take for granted all the time I think I have with him, because I saw how in an instant that can be cut off.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.
I nodded but the tears were coming.
"Are you sure? You can come and stay at our place," she said.
"I just want my dad," I said in tears as she pulled me in for a hug.
My uncle died on Friday afternoon. They were not able to control the swelling in his brain that was connected to the stroke and it eventually killed him. I was in a family room at the St. Boniface Hospital with my family, my cousins and some of their mom's family when they announced that it was over. Tracy and I hugged dad. I felt grateful at that moment because I had a dad that I could hug. I didn't want to let go. But I also felt bad because my cousins were in the room and they wouldn't ever get to hug their dad again. I wondered if they saw us embracing and if we made the moment for them even worse. I hope not.
Even though it was over, it wasn't. Dad had to be there for other people a lot --as a brother, a brother-in-law, a son, and just for himself as a grieving person, and I found myself missing him terribly when I couldn't be with him. I am aware now of how I take for granted all the time I think I have with him, because I saw how in an instant that can be cut off.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
I was supposed to go to Lisa's tonight for dinner.
She emailed me yesterday to say that she couldn't remember if she'd told me or not that she couldn't do dinner this week (we get together every Thursday) because she was going to the baseball game with her office.
On Sunday, Father's Day, my sister and her live-in man friend had invited me to join my parents at her place on Thursday night for dinner. I had said I probably couldn't because I was supposed to get together with Lisa. I texted her yesterday as soon as I found out that my plans with Lisa were off and I was free.
And so it was set. Thursday night the family four and Carlos, her man friend, would be together at her little house for dinner. Tracy would be nervous, Carlos would be super-duper nervous, but it was a sunny and warm day in the city and Dad was actually in a chipper, talkative mood.
Early yesterday morning my uncle, Dad's younger brother, went to hospital because he had suffered a stroke. He had been working security at the Eagles concert the night before, came home late and went to bed. The dog woke my aunt up in the early morning. She turned to wake her husband except he wouldn't wake up and she called the ambulance. He was rushed to the hospital and it was hailed a miracle that they had caught the stroke early enough that they were able to give him super strong clot busters to help. Thank goodness for the dog.
My mom phoned me yesterday while I was on training in the call centre. She left a voicemail to let me know about my uncle. I didn't phone back until I got home from work because I was in meetings for most of the day and it sounded like he wasn't well but would be okay.
Tonight when my mom, dad, sister and Carlos got together my dad sounded optimistic. He had gone to see his brother in the afternoon. Some of the doctors seemed to suggest that my uncle would be okay although there could be a long road ahead. One doctor, a specialist, didn't have such a cheery outlook but we dismissed this as the outlier opinion. Of course he would be fine. He was only 54 and an otherwise healthy and active man with a wife, son, daughter and grandson.
The five of us went in and sat down to dinner. Dad, who is known as much for his laid-back nature as he is for his moodiness, was in high spirits. He was teasing Carlos and digging into the meal without his usual grunting complaints about overcooked carrots or weird vegetables. Tracy had done a great job of barbecuing. We were abnormally normal and happy.
Dad got a call on his cell from my aunt, his sister. He took it outside. Carlos at some point looked out the window and noticed that Dad looked upset. Tracy stood up and looked. Dad was wiping tears, she said. Mom went out to see him.
They came back inside. Dad spit out the update. It wasn't good. There was swelling in the brain. My uncle wasn't stable and they were not able to move him to the Health Sciences Centre where they could do what needed to be done to help him. Things suddenly were not looking so optimistic. The road to recovery was suddenly dust. My Dad kept apologizing as he wiped his eyes with a paper napkin.
I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen my dad cry. The truth is that my mom is the rock in this family. You'd never guess that if you were meeting them for the first time or the twenty-seventh time. My dad is an M&M--hard and crusty on the outside but soft and easily melted on the inside. On top of that, he hasn't had a very close relationship with his brother over the past two decades or so. Family gatherings have always felt a bit tense for us. They're just different people. So to see him A) broken up, and B) broken up about this person who he always seemed mostly indifferent towards...I don't know how to put it into words but I tried really hard to be strong for him and I almost was able to hold it together. Not like my mom though--she's amazing.
We didn't get to eat the dessert mom brought. Mom and Dad went home and then to the hospital. I stayed at my sister's for a while longer. As soon as Mom and Dad left I started asking questions of Tracy and Carlos, the medical experts of the family. Carlos works at the hospital where my uncle was at and had already put in a call to his co-workers to request updates.
Tracy's special dinner didn't turn out the way we had hoped. I told her that it was a good thing though because she was able to have us all together and happy, if only briefly. Imagine if we had all been at our separate homes. We were meant to be together tonight.
My dad is due to retire this September. For the past few months I have silently worried about him because I have not ever before seen him work as hard as he has been for the past eight months or so. He doesn't lead the healthiest lifestyle and he needs a break. Dark thoughts have crossed my mind on numerous occasions about him not getting the chance to realize his dream of retirement because the stress of work and his bad habits contributed to stealing that time away from him. I am feeling selfish, in a way, right now. I am not thinking of my cousins, my aunt or my grandmother. I am thinking of my Dad, because I cannot stand the idea of him crying over his brother. My dad doesn't deserve, can't handle that kind of sadness right now. It's just not right. He shouldn't have to watch his brother go through this stuff yet. He shouldn't ever have to see that; he's the older one. He should be old and senile before this was to happen. So while Tracy, Carlos and I sat at the table in her un-airconditioned kitchen, my only prayer was, please, don't do this to my dad. Don't put him through this shit and don't you dare make him cry.
I'm at my mom's and dad's right now. Dad called Tracy to update us and let us know that they have stabilized my uncle by inducing him into a coma. Tracy said he sounded better, more hopeful. I guess they are going to try to keep him stable until morning and then assess if they can transport him to the other hospital where they can operate on him to relieve the pressure on his brain. Dad asked if I could swing by the house on my way home to let Elmo out.
I let him out. Now I'm stuck here worrying about my dad and wishing I could be there to hold his hand. And I'm blogging. Because you are all I have to talk to right now and words on a page are all I know.
She emailed me yesterday to say that she couldn't remember if she'd told me or not that she couldn't do dinner this week (we get together every Thursday) because she was going to the baseball game with her office.
On Sunday, Father's Day, my sister and her live-in man friend had invited me to join my parents at her place on Thursday night for dinner. I had said I probably couldn't because I was supposed to get together with Lisa. I texted her yesterday as soon as I found out that my plans with Lisa were off and I was free.
And so it was set. Thursday night the family four and Carlos, her man friend, would be together at her little house for dinner. Tracy would be nervous, Carlos would be super-duper nervous, but it was a sunny and warm day in the city and Dad was actually in a chipper, talkative mood.
Early yesterday morning my uncle, Dad's younger brother, went to hospital because he had suffered a stroke. He had been working security at the Eagles concert the night before, came home late and went to bed. The dog woke my aunt up in the early morning. She turned to wake her husband except he wouldn't wake up and she called the ambulance. He was rushed to the hospital and it was hailed a miracle that they had caught the stroke early enough that they were able to give him super strong clot busters to help. Thank goodness for the dog.
My mom phoned me yesterday while I was on training in the call centre. She left a voicemail to let me know about my uncle. I didn't phone back until I got home from work because I was in meetings for most of the day and it sounded like he wasn't well but would be okay.
Tonight when my mom, dad, sister and Carlos got together my dad sounded optimistic. He had gone to see his brother in the afternoon. Some of the doctors seemed to suggest that my uncle would be okay although there could be a long road ahead. One doctor, a specialist, didn't have such a cheery outlook but we dismissed this as the outlier opinion. Of course he would be fine. He was only 54 and an otherwise healthy and active man with a wife, son, daughter and grandson.
The five of us went in and sat down to dinner. Dad, who is known as much for his laid-back nature as he is for his moodiness, was in high spirits. He was teasing Carlos and digging into the meal without his usual grunting complaints about overcooked carrots or weird vegetables. Tracy had done a great job of barbecuing. We were abnormally normal and happy.
Dad got a call on his cell from my aunt, his sister. He took it outside. Carlos at some point looked out the window and noticed that Dad looked upset. Tracy stood up and looked. Dad was wiping tears, she said. Mom went out to see him.
They came back inside. Dad spit out the update. It wasn't good. There was swelling in the brain. My uncle wasn't stable and they were not able to move him to the Health Sciences Centre where they could do what needed to be done to help him. Things suddenly were not looking so optimistic. The road to recovery was suddenly dust. My Dad kept apologizing as he wiped his eyes with a paper napkin.
I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen my dad cry. The truth is that my mom is the rock in this family. You'd never guess that if you were meeting them for the first time or the twenty-seventh time. My dad is an M&M--hard and crusty on the outside but soft and easily melted on the inside. On top of that, he hasn't had a very close relationship with his brother over the past two decades or so. Family gatherings have always felt a bit tense for us. They're just different people. So to see him A) broken up, and B) broken up about this person who he always seemed mostly indifferent towards...I don't know how to put it into words but I tried really hard to be strong for him and I almost was able to hold it together. Not like my mom though--she's amazing.
We didn't get to eat the dessert mom brought. Mom and Dad went home and then to the hospital. I stayed at my sister's for a while longer. As soon as Mom and Dad left I started asking questions of Tracy and Carlos, the medical experts of the family. Carlos works at the hospital where my uncle was at and had already put in a call to his co-workers to request updates.
Tracy's special dinner didn't turn out the way we had hoped. I told her that it was a good thing though because she was able to have us all together and happy, if only briefly. Imagine if we had all been at our separate homes. We were meant to be together tonight.
My dad is due to retire this September. For the past few months I have silently worried about him because I have not ever before seen him work as hard as he has been for the past eight months or so. He doesn't lead the healthiest lifestyle and he needs a break. Dark thoughts have crossed my mind on numerous occasions about him not getting the chance to realize his dream of retirement because the stress of work and his bad habits contributed to stealing that time away from him. I am feeling selfish, in a way, right now. I am not thinking of my cousins, my aunt or my grandmother. I am thinking of my Dad, because I cannot stand the idea of him crying over his brother. My dad doesn't deserve, can't handle that kind of sadness right now. It's just not right. He shouldn't have to watch his brother go through this stuff yet. He shouldn't ever have to see that; he's the older one. He should be old and senile before this was to happen. So while Tracy, Carlos and I sat at the table in her un-airconditioned kitchen, my only prayer was, please, don't do this to my dad. Don't put him through this shit and don't you dare make him cry.
I'm at my mom's and dad's right now. Dad called Tracy to update us and let us know that they have stabilized my uncle by inducing him into a coma. Tracy said he sounded better, more hopeful. I guess they are going to try to keep him stable until morning and then assess if they can transport him to the other hospital where they can operate on him to relieve the pressure on his brain. Dad asked if I could swing by the house on my way home to let Elmo out.
I let him out. Now I'm stuck here worrying about my dad and wishing I could be there to hold his hand. And I'm blogging. Because you are all I have to talk to right now and words on a page are all I know.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Sunshine and Rainbows
Around 5:40 tonight, the first evening of summer 2010, as I was heading out to pick up Nigel for another night of sketching I looked up and saw a perfect rainbow in the sky. It was a full and vibrant arch from north to south. I don't think I've ever seen a rainbow like that before. It was surreal, and that about sums up how my world has been these days.
I haven't blogged in a while because I really haven't had a story to tell for some time. A story needs a conflict and drama to give it a plot and I haven't had anything like that for a good week now. Good stuff just keeps coming around to me. It's a little weird but I'm not going to say no.
Anyway, my boring story today is that I went sketching tonight. I wore my new Artsy t-shirt--a $5 special that my mom bought for me at the Grand Forks Arts & Crafts show we browsed two weekends ago. I love the shirt--way cooler than anything I saw in the mall that weekend--and I wanted to save it for the next time I went to a life drawing session. As I said to Nigel, it's like a band t-shirt, it's not cool to wear the item at the event it names, but completely cool to wear it to another event of a similar nature or audience.
The sketching went well. My favourite sketch was my last one. It doesn't look anything like anyone else's, but I like it, I'm proud of it and I don't care what anyone else thinks of it.
I brought my new umbrella with me, just in case it rained and I needed to protect my sketchbook. Rain is normally a reason to frown, but I bought this new colourful umbrella and it makes me happy every time I pop it open.
After sketching Nigel and I headed over to the Kings Head for beer, fries and catch up. It was perfect. So boring, I know. No boys, no people getting in my way, no worries or cares. Bad for the writing business but good for everything else. Oh, and next week I will be on vacation! Yay! It's been almost a year since I've had anything more than a long weekend.
Anyway, I'm sorry and yet not sorry for being boring, and I hope you may all enjoy this brand of boring from time to time.
I haven't blogged in a while because I really haven't had a story to tell for some time. A story needs a conflict and drama to give it a plot and I haven't had anything like that for a good week now. Good stuff just keeps coming around to me. It's a little weird but I'm not going to say no.
Anyway, my boring story today is that I went sketching tonight. I wore my new Artsy t-shirt--a $5 special that my mom bought for me at the Grand Forks Arts & Crafts show we browsed two weekends ago. I love the shirt--way cooler than anything I saw in the mall that weekend--and I wanted to save it for the next time I went to a life drawing session. As I said to Nigel, it's like a band t-shirt, it's not cool to wear the item at the event it names, but completely cool to wear it to another event of a similar nature or audience.
The sketching went well. My favourite sketch was my last one. It doesn't look anything like anyone else's, but I like it, I'm proud of it and I don't care what anyone else thinks of it.
I brought my new umbrella with me, just in case it rained and I needed to protect my sketchbook. Rain is normally a reason to frown, but I bought this new colourful umbrella and it makes me happy every time I pop it open.
After sketching Nigel and I headed over to the Kings Head for beer, fries and catch up. It was perfect. So boring, I know. No boys, no people getting in my way, no worries or cares. Bad for the writing business but good for everything else. Oh, and next week I will be on vacation! Yay! It's been almost a year since I've had anything more than a long weekend.
Anyway, I'm sorry and yet not sorry for being boring, and I hope you may all enjoy this brand of boring from time to time.
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