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Posts Tagged ‘seniors’

Summer is almost here.  Tulips and daffodils are blooming and tomato starts, in the bay window, are two inches tall.

This means that I will soon be reminded that I have, yet again, overestimated my youth and energy.  I am still weight lifting and doing aerobics, and still stuck at 11 pounds lost, but I do hope I have the energy for the garden this year. 

I have a hard time throwing out the weaker plant starts.  I just cannot imagine me ever being able to chop up the Mandrake roots.   Since I do like to have extra plants, and thus extra produce, to take to the Seniors in mom’s apartment building, I planned on planting more this year anyway. 

No one is fond of mowing our 3.8 acre yard. A couple of areas of the yard are wooded, so we just leave those alone.  I think one winter day, when the ticks are hibernating (Do ticks hibernate?) I will put the teens to cleaning the woods.  That is, if they are ever home long enough. 

No longer a Teen, #1 is living in Santa Fe, temporarily and is 22 now.  Teen #2 will be 20 this June, and is always gone to the fire department or nursing schooling, or working.  Teen #3 is now best buddies with his girlfriend’s dad; whose house he goes to for extra tutoring and also to help around their property.  The latest project is a “man cave” in the barn; complete with comfy chairs and a television.

It is always a spur to tell them that they can use the wood they pick up for their fire pit, plus, them being volunteer firemen (and cadet) they realize the fire danger of an overgrown/deadwood woods.

Our drive is 400 feet long and I would love to build a Japanese style walking garden on the strip of land to the east of it. The area between house and pond, to the west, could be deck and terraced gardens; thus, eliminating most of the mowing. We would then be left with the area around my studio to mow. I would love to have that in square foot gardening plots.  Thus again, dreaming of a time when energy and aching bones was never a problem.

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XUP you are my soul and my inspiration.   There, that is your song fix for the day.

She is hysterical though.  She is doing posts on people of age groups.  I have just begun to read them.  I have to ration myself daily on my blog reading or I would never get anything else done; like my own blog, my Advanced Middle Grade Novel that is getting near enough to completion, it is exciting to me again.  In other words, I’m over the hump, oh, there is also dishes, the grocery list and, hummm, perhaps I should get dressed this morning.

Not that I am sitting in my altogether.  THAT would scar people.  Although, I have lost five pounds now (notice how slickly I threw that in???)

Anyway, Xup posted The 6 Most Annoying Things About Old People « XUP.  And, apparently, Xup was behind mom and I the last time we shopped.  I have to wonder, like every time I take her shopping actually (and I am talking about mom here and not XUP; no way am I driving to Canada to take XUP shopping.  I don’t even have a passport). 

So, I take mom shopping.  I have gotten smart enough now, to NOT do my own shopping at the same time.  I usually have a few items to get that are non-food, and then I go check on mom, who is by now, in the vegetable department, even though she started tooling down the aisle in her electric buggy, for the cooler.

“What do you need Mom?  Can I help you?”  I say, looking down in her cart to see eggs.

“I need milk.  It has to be lactaid–and don’t get that 1% stuff, I want whole milk.” 

“Okay, anything else?”

At which point she tears off the top section of her list, which is food that is all in that cooler section and hands it to me, apologizing for her handwriting, and then, as I walk away she adds, “I need vitamins too.”  Which would be fine if we were in Kroger’s but we are in WalMart and the vitamins are on the other side of the store.  ALLL the way on the other side of the store.

I come back with that lot of food and she is now almost back to the cooler section and tells me she now needs mushrooms; which is where we started.

We finally get to the checkout desk and she is tying her bags shut so that we can “tell them apart.”  Never mind that she did this when she lived with us, in the same house.  Never mind that I have a Chrysler Voyager and I put my stuff in the back and her stuff in the seat area behind the front seats. 

She is also telling the girl not to pack so much in a bag because they will be too heavy for her to carry.  Never mind that she hasn’t taken her own groceries up to her apartment more than twice in three years; at least that I have taken her to the store.  I actually empty her bags out onto the counter for her.  But, I appreciate them not being too heavy.

If she has only bought a small item at the store, yes  XUP, she must pick through her coin purse for exact change, all the while apologizing to the clerk for her hand writing even though she isn’t writing anything.  She does this too for her debit card. 

And, just why is it that she enters a door and stops; right there, in the door.  Or waits for the elevator by standing in front of it?  Or waiting for me to open a door by standing in front of it?  The story that sticks out in my mind is coming out of the post office with two large boxes in hand and it is pouring rain and the car door is locked and she sits there watching me trying not to drop the boxes as I fumble for my keys, in the rain, with two boxes in hand and never thinks to pop the locks with the button.  But, dad always did that stuff.  Some day she may end up trapped in a car because she has no idea how to unlock the door.

But, I love her stories, even when I hear them three times a day.  Like you, I know I am looking at my future.

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Mom says she will never get married again. Not even if the gentleman was 105, had one foot in the grave and a LOT of money. Since she’s in an income based senior apartment, what she sees is gentlemen with saggy butts who want to borrow money.

Her latest next door gentleman neighbor has a parade of young oriental girls coming to his door, as well as shady characters. He wanders the hallway, smelling of liquor and muttering to himself. The smell of grass (not the mowing kind) eminates from his door. Mom thought, at first he had an awful lot of relatives but he was arrested the other day. So, I think mom was right over the moral fiber of the young ladies. Nope, mom doesn’t want another man; she’s been there, done that and will never go back.

It doesn’t stop her from looking. She has two types who appeal to her. One is Hawaiian gentlement with nice tanned skin and dark hair. We went to Hawaii a few years ago and she had a fine time checking out the guys; including the adorable tour bus guide. She had a Hawaiian pen pal, who was a man, whom she still fondly remembers. She still writes to the female pen pal.

The other type she likes is cowboys and no matter how much she says she hates Wyoming, she liked the cowboys. She liked the cowboys tight jeans too and, while denying it to this day, she once told me a fellow who passed us was cute and cupped her hands in a badonkadonk move, of his jean cheeks passing by.

So, when Masters Daughter a/k/a BrainDebris on WordPress, said I needed to tell the story of the Badonkadonk Waiter, it’s one I remember well.

We were all sitting in a restaurant and I was telling Master’s daughter the story of the badonkadonk, cute butt, cowboy mom had commented on. Grandma again denied she had done it, but, it’s true. Honest. The four of us, mom, myself, Masters Daughter and she of eleven children, are sitting and laughing and having a grand time, when a waiter came up to us to see if we needed anything. Now this waiter didn’t have one of those good butts, in fact he was a bit chubby and spread the width of four butts.

My mom is a nice person. I had once taken her into a courtroom and she spent the whole afternoon telling me why the poor man, who had probably robbed a little old lady of her last $8 as he beat her round the head,  had a bad life and just needed to be given a chance. She can also walk a mile in another person’s shoes and feels for any physical problem a person has, including their weight. I can be in a store and know immediately that if mom says that someone “has a pretty face.” that the person is a tad overweight. Mom would never say, “They’re chubby” or anything else like that; it’s always, “… has a pretty face.”

So, our laughter had been interrupted by this chubby waiter, which may have well been the reason he came over to our raucous table. Then, he turns to leave and Master’s daughter says, “Does he have a … (the good badonkadonk motion with her hands), Grandma?” Grandma starts to giggle a bit and deny she ever did that, when daughter of eleven says, “No, but he sure has a pretty face.”

It was the first time my mother ever sprayed her drink across the table as she burst out laughing. Daughter of eleven was so proud, she said it was her shining moment, because she isn’t a natural at humor, compared to Master’s daughter. If the waiter’s goal had been to quiet our table, it was a dismal failure as we were now, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down our cheeks.

You had to be there!!

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