What A Week!

I have not been here much this week as you all know. I have gone back to work and am visiting my parents each evening after work to help them adjust. The adjustment period is going to take a while for my mom. My dad seems fine with it. They have had a good many visitors but each time I go my mom brings up the fact they are just going to be there for a day and she has been trying to get Dr. Powers on the phone to get him to let them go home (here to my house) where SHE can and will take care of my dad. My uncle Trollis went to see them on Thursday and she told him to go get her car taken care of...when I left I called him immediately to make sure he did not follow her directive...she cannot drive again. My dad ran a fever this week and seems weak...although my mom says he is improving daily...all I see is a man in bed by 4...sound asleep. She tells me of all his activity during the day but the director says he has little activity during the day. I am afraid for them both. I have slept soundly for the last few days knowing that they are safe and cared for. My head knows they are in a good place...my heart is not getting the message. Last night about 8:30 my mom called and wanted me to come to the Meadows first thing this morning...8:00. I don't know what she wants...but I am sure it has to do with leaving. Sigh! I saw a lawyer this week. My mom won't willingly give me a power of attorney...because it is her business, not mine. So I am going to have to sue them for conservatorship and take control without their permission. This way of doing things involves them having to go to the Probate Judge...with a lawyer and having the judge decide if they need to have a guardian to handle their affairs. I am afraid if I don't do this they won't pay their bills and the rent at the Meadows. I also had to work on getting a DD214(record of military service)for my dad so that the VA will pay part of his rent. That has been hard too. I had to get my dad to sign the papers and his handwriting has gone down a lot. He writes like a child now. It is so sad to see him fail so each day. I hate being put in this predicament. If only they had had foresight enough to take care of all of this before their healths began declining it would have been so much easier. I told my daughter that I will not allow this to happen to her. I plan to take care of my daughter and Frank's daughter so they neither of them have to experience this when I begin to age....begin...who am I kidding. I have aged 100 years in the last week. It was good getting back to school. I loved having something to do to occupy my mind. I understand my mom's restlessness because I am just like her. I don't sit still well...never have....even as a child. I have always needed something to do....even if it was reading a book. My mom does not read any more. I think that is sad. Both of them used to read a lot. Our house was always filled with books and the library was my favorite place to go. I have learned a great deal from this experience....some stuff I really did not ever want to know. I know what the term BOLO (be on the lookout) means, I know what a Silver Alert is, I know about conservertorship is and why it is actually better than a power of attorney in this case, I have sat in a lawyers office and discussed family secrets, I have hired my first lawyer, I know I have lots of friends, and I know I am loved. For my readers who have walked this path I am currently on...you understand what is happening, why it is so painful, and that I will get through it. For my readers who have yet to experience it...it is not fun, you feel as if you are in a living nightmare, and it will pass (they say). For those readers who may never have to go through this...count your blessings and pray for those of us who have been there, are there, and will be there. My God is a good God and He will keep me sane throughout this mess. He will help me survive what is to come. I know this in my head. My heart is having a hard time with this too. Happy Saturday to you all! Thank you for the comments of support. You will never know how special you all are to me. I AM a STILL MAGNOLIA and I will make it!

The Story of the Dent

Tom loves his truck.



Sometimes I wonder if he loves it more than me.

Sometimes I’ll catch him staring at it when he’s supposed to be mowing the lawn. It’s like he’s thinking, “Look at that beauty. All shiny and red.”



He takes excellent care of his truck. He washes it all the time and winces when he sees someone drive by in a filthy truck.

“How can a guy let his truck look like that?” he’ll moan.

If he can keep his truck neat, then why can’t he get his dirty clothes in the hamper? This is what I want to know. I’ve asked him and he winks and says, “It’s fun to see you frazzled.”

I don’t know what to think about that.

Tom freaks out if the neighborhood children get too close to his truck. He’s yelled at one for daring to touch it. Tom also freaks out if he feels I’m abusing it. Apparently I slam my door too hard. I did this a few times and Tom will suck in his breath and go,

“What has my truck done to you?”

“Excuse me?” I’m always confused.

“You don’t need to slam the door like that,” Tom will lecture. Once he actually showed me the proper way to close the door.

“Lightly, yet firmly,” Tom said, pushing the door. “Do you see what I’m doing here? Lightly...yet....firmly....”

I rarely pay attention. Maybe I like to see Tom frazzled too. Maybe this means we have a sick relationship. I don’t know.

We have antelope that wander the neighborhood. Tom once scared a bunch off because he was worried they were getting too close to his truck.

“Shoo! Shoo!” he yelled, waving his arms in the air.

I never wanted to know how he’d react if something did happen to his truck. I mean, awhile back, someone backed into it and you’d have thought that he lost one his balls or something. Thankfully it got fixed because Tom made sure the guy gave his insurance information—he would never let someone escape after harming his baby.

Well, this is what happened on Saturday when we went out:



See, what happened is we went to Dennys and the parking lot was full being that it was a Saturday morning. Who can resist a breakfast from Dennys? There were people walking around and this one guy was getting into his vehicle next to the empty spot Tom was backing into. Suddenly, the guy got out of his vehicle (maybe to admire the truck, men admire Tom’s truck all the time) and Tom was worried that he’d accidentally hit him. So he turned the wheel a bit to give the guy more room.

He was so busy concentrating on doing this that he didn’t realize that he had backed far enough.

He didn’t realize that until the whole truck shuddered.

“What was that?” Tom demanded as we rocked for a few seconds.

“Erm...you may have hit the pole back there,” I said this gently as though I were preparing a person for awful news.

Tom looked sick. “My truck!” And then he was trying to get out of his seat but he forgot he still had his seatbelt on so he struggled for a few seconds.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. It was so funny to see this grown man thrashing in his seat.

I actually got out first. Tom was still trying to pull free as I stepped onto the ground. I cautiously went around to the back and this is when I saw the dent.

Uh oh.

“Is there damage?” Tom called, finally free. He marched over, he jaw set tightly.

I leaped in front of it. “No damage at all!” I lied.

Tom stared at me in disbelief. “No damage? But the truck shook…”

I shrugged. “We got lucky, I suppose.”

I knew he’d eventually find out. But I just wanted to enjoy my breakfast. I knew if Tom noticed the ding that he’d—

“Wait a minute. Wait. What’s that?” Tom was craning his neck around me.

“Bird poo! Those damn birds. Scientists really need to teach them how to use a communal bird toilet or something,” I rambled.

Tom gently pushed me aside. “That’s a dent.” He looked a little pale as he ran his finger around it. “That’s a dent.”

I was worried he was going to hyperventilate, actually.

“It’s not that bad,” I said. “Really.”

“That’s a dent on my truck.” Tom was still a pasty white color.

“How about we go eat?” I suggested, pulling on his arm.

I got the kids out and pulled a dazed Tom towards the entrance. I kept hearing him mutter, “dent” and “truck.”

When we settled down at a booth Tom distractedly perused the menu.

When the waiter asked us what we wanted to drink Tom went, “Truck.”

The waiter furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“We’ll both have cherry cokes,” I said in a rushed tone.

As I was deciding between the French toast or the omelet, I heard Tom say, “Why did I move aside for that guy?”

I looked up with a start. “Erm, you moved so you wouldn’t hit him and go to jail.”

“But if I didn’t move, I wouldn’t have been as distracted and I wouldn’t have hit the pole,” Tom moaned, putting his head into his hands.

“Tom. Darling. I’m starting to question your sanity now. You moved so you wouldn’t hit and kill the poor man,” I reminded him.

Tom lifted his head up and nodded. “Right,” he said. “Right.”

He wasn’t quite there when we got our food. He still ate but he seemed lost in thought.

“This omelet is delicious,” I gushed.

“Dent and truck,” Tom basically answered.

“And aren’t these pancake puppies scrumptious?” I continued.

“Truck and dent.”

So yes. It wasn’t the best meal ever.

Tom has made peace with it now. Sort of. If he glances at the dent he sort of tenses up and goes pale again. But other than that, I think he’s okay.

I hope.

Maybe It's Not So Bad...

Well.

I survived.

Tom was off of work Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday.

When he wasn't following me around and asking ridiculous questions
("what's for lunch?"), he was doing this:



I lost my temper several times because Tom was doing this:



I forced Tom to watch an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba with Natalie because he kept doing this for hours. He claims he is now traumatized.



I went on a shopping spree because of this:



It's fun to ask questions when Tom is distracted. I'm all, "Hey Tom, can I buy this?" and he's so involved in the game so he's all, "Sure, fine." Of course then when he sees what I've bought he's all, "Wait, where did that come from?" and I'm all, "Oh, you said I could get it while on the computer, remember?" And Tom won't want to admit that he wasn't really paying attention so he's all, "Oh....right.."

The Meadows of Hillabee

Dr. Powers gave me three choices when my parents were ready to be dismissed from the hospital on Sunday night. I could bring them home and hire sitters(not his choice). I could send my dad to a nursing home and take my mom home( not my mom's choice), or I could put them in assisted living where they could be together. So I left the hospital to do some research, went to the Meadows on Hillabee and checked out the place. To be honest I was not 100% sure what exactly assisted living was. I thought it was some kind of glorified nursing home and I was wrong. Ms. Peggy Easterwood met me as soon as I had entered the place and began to explain it to me. So far she has been a lifesaver. Having been through much the same experience herself she is very comforting and loving with the the residents. I had to come to grips with reality that my parents are now classed as older adults who find it difficult to maintain a home, hence why they have lived with me for the past 4.5 years, and who can no longer live safely alone, I can't take another 48 hour period of hell where I cannot locate them....so I had to find an alternative and I think I did. Assisted living offers a blend of personalized services in a supervised and secure environment that embraces privacy, independence and choice. Residents have their own room furnished with their personal belongings in addition to homey living rooms, dining room and porches for activities and socialization. The Meadows on Hillabee assisted living offers the support services seniors need to maintain their independent lifestyle(sin car) and dignity. I moved them in yesterday...and to be honest they have lived with me so long...I actually experienced empty nest syndrome last night for the first time since Kat went away to college. My mom does not want to be there. She continues to say that she will be coming home tomorrow. She all but refused to give me a check for the month's rent...and was so fiesty....but only with me...with everyone else...she was so sweet. Typical mom! I finally got a check out of her, paid the lady, turned in the paper work, and ran! I had to get out of there. I have now been off for a week and needed to feel normal for a few minutes. I went to Wal-mart and picked up a few groceries and met Frank at the house. We road back out to the Meadows to visit for a bit before they had supper. I know this will take time for them to adjust. So when you say your prayers tonight...pray that they will and that I will survive their adjusting! Happy Wednesday! I am going back to work today!!!! Woooo Hooooo!

My Poor Neck

Cinnamon.

Sweet cinnamon.

This is what I breathed in when I woke up on Sunday.

Mmmm, cinnamon.

Wait. Cinnamon.

I sniffed and then realized that it was cinnamon rolls baking. Normally I wouldn’t mind. But I had told Tom a few days earlier that I planned on making them for our Sunday lunch. I realize that sounds a little odd but hey, it’s an easy lunch. This means I don’t have to scrounge around and find something to make.

When I had told Tom that I was making the rolls for lunch, he had laughed and said, “Those aren’t lunch,” and patted my head as though I were a child.

“He doesn’t listen!” I shouted as I sat up in bed. This was when I realized that my neck hurt and that I couldn’t turn it without a pain shooting through my body. Great.

I went downstairs and found Tom on the couch.

“You made the cinnamon rolls!” I accused, keeping my neck very straight.

Tom blinked innocently at me. “Yup. Is there a problem?”

At this point he had been home from work since Friday so I was losing my patience. A part of me longed to run outside to the neighbor’s house and say, “Excuse me? Sir? Would you mind taking my husband off my hands for a few hours?”

“Yes Tom, there is a problem. Remember I said that the rolls for lunch?” I said this through clenched teeth because not only was I irritated, but I had accidentally shifted my neck and a spasm of pain had gone up my face.

Tom waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Rolls aren’t lunch, sweetheart.”

“Yes they are! They can be lunch! There are no rules!” I shrieked, keeping my head still.

Tom raised an eyebrow at me. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…you have something wedged up your butt. Why aren’t you moving your neck?” Tom stood up and came over to me.

“Because I’m annoyed!” I insisted.

Tom raised an eyebrow at me. “You’ve never yelled at me without moving your neck before,” Tom said.

“Fine. My neck hurts,” I admitted.

“You know what’ll help? Cinnamon rolls!” Tom said cheerfully and went into the kitchen to pull them from the oven.

I slathered mine with the frosting. Tom seems to think that two small pats of icing is enough so I always have to add more.

“Gee. Do you want some cinnamon roll with that icing?” he joked.

Later, the neighborhood kids starting ringing the doorbell. I still couldn’t move my neck.

I heard a crash coming from the garage a few minutes later and stomped outside to find a bunch of my plastic totes knocked over.

“What’s going on out here?” I demanded. I pretended that my neck wasn’t killing me because children latch on weakness.

A bunch of kids spoke at once.

“Well Tanner was—”

“She was climbing on—”

“Someone pushed me into—”

“Why do you look all stiff?” an older kid inquired, gaping at me.

I feigned confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You look weird,” he said bluntly. Apparently his parents forgot to teach him the lesson of tact.

“My Mom doesn’t look weird!” Tommy cut in.

Aww! My boy, coming to my rescue. Isn’t that—

“She just has a bad neck!” Tommy continued.

Blabbermouth. My kid is a blabbermouth. I swear all the kids started leering at me.

She’s wounded! Get her!

“Just...be careful in here,” I quickly said and practically ran inside. Running with a sore neck is not easy, mind you.

Thankfully I was feeling better by the evening. And Tom went to see Inglorious Bastards so I had the house to myself. Well, sort of. The kids were there but they were sleeping.

When Tom got home he said, “They showed a scalping in the movie!” He looked totally enthused over this. I’m wondering if I should be worried.

“That’s gross, Tom,” I said.

I’m surprised he didn’t break into a song about blood and gore, to be honest.

Dreamland BBQ - Tuscaloosa, AL

When I was going to the University of Alabama and working on my Spanish certification I was introduced to a piece of culinary delight - Dreamland BBQ. My friend Greg came and got us one night and told us he was taking us to dinner and it was a surprise. Well, in Tuscaloosa...anything would have been a surprise. We rode out into the country and stopped at this little run down looking building that said Dreamland BBQ. I told Greg...no way Hoser...I am not eating anywhere that looks like this...but he coerced me into the restaurant and my nose was bombarded with the sweet smell of searing meat cooking...and I was hooked. Now, to paint this picture a little better...I had on a white pants suit. White mind you!...We sat down...and the waiter came up with a pad and wanted to know what we wanted...there was no menu...it was just a piece of paper....with a few choices on it. I ordered a half slab of ribs....then asked for beans and cole slaw as my sides...he laughed out loud and told me..."You gets ribs and light bread. You wants chips they at the bawrr." I had not clue what light bread was. Remember I grew up in South Florida...we ate Sunbeam bread, rye, wheat, pumpernickel....I had never had light bread in my life. There was a big pit behind us...and there was a large lady in a dress sitting in a rocker with one of those Jamaican fans...fanning the meat. Shortly our meal was delivered. Slabs of ribs and a stack of Sunbeam bread were placed on the table with 4 sweet teas and 1 unsweet tea. The waiter returned with some kind of sauce...in styrofoam cups....that was the dippin' sauce for "da ribs." My olfactory was on overload...and I could not wait to get one of those ribs in my mouth. I dipped it neatly into the sauce...and ate....after that first bite it was Katie Bar the Door. I devoured the ribs. We ask for three more cups of the sauce and ate all the bread...dipping it in the sauce. I think we ate a whole loaf of light bread that night. Then we talked our waiter into more cups...which we took back to our apartment...and ate for lunch the next day...with bread! Dreamland became a weekly venture. I ate there once a week for two years while I was attending Alabama. Imagine how excited I was when I found a Dreamland BBQ in Birmingham...we ate there...and I was sorely disappointed. The sauce was still just as good...but they have sides...and to be honest...the sides take away from the ribs. Sooooo...if you love BBQ...then you must eat at Dreamland...but wait til you are in Tuscaloosa...and find the original one. It is out on Jug Factory Road...in the boonies...but you will never regret making that journey....trust me....they are truly to die for!

The Rain Shower

“Guess what?” my husband Tom said to me when he came home from work on Thursday.

A part of me was hoping that he’d say, “We don’t have to move after all! We get to stay here!” (For those who don’t know, we’re moving next month. To Montana. And no, I am not happy about it.)

That was just wishful thinking on my part. Because of course it had nothing to do with the move.

“I have Friday, Saturday, Sunday AND Monday off,” Tom gushed and punched the air with his fist.

When he worked his old job, he never got this many days off. In fact, he used to rant that he thought the base was full of a bunch of lazy asses who never did any work.

“I mean, why do they need all these days off? You don’t see security forces having all these days off!” he’d shout.

Of course he’s singing a new tune now.

“Why?” was the first word that tumbled from my mouth. I pictured Tom following me around the house, invading my space, HOGGING THE COMPUTER…

Tom’s face fell slightly. “Why? That’s what you ask me? You’re supposed to be thrilled.”

I forced a smile on my face. “Why?” I repeated, my voice squeaky high. I was trying to convey a chipper manner even though I kept thinking, “You mean I have to share this tiny house with my husband for four days?”

“I don’t know. I guess Friday is considered a Family Fun day or something,” Tom shrugged, pulling off his boots.

I held my breath when he did this. You do not want to suck in air when Tom is removing his disgusting boots. I learned that the hard way and nearly passed out from the stench.

“A Family Fun day?” I snorted.

Tom yanked off his other boot. “I’m not going to complain.”

I was tempted to complain.

When I woke up on Friday, there Tom was with the remote in his hand watching The Military Channel. If you want to learn all about how a M4 is made then The Military Channel is for you. As it is, I could care less, so I was not amused to see it flashing across the screen first thing in the morning.

Then Tom kept asking me what I was doing throughout the morning.

I’d go into the kitchen.

“Whatcha doing?” he’d wonder.

I’d go upstairs.

“Whatcha doing?” he’d question.

If he wasn’t doing that, he was hogging the computer. We’re probably the only household in America who doesn’t have wireless set up. So the only way I can get on the Internet is via our computer. And my husband likes to play online games so he’d be on there for a few hours and I’d get angrier and angrier by the minute.

Finally I had had enough. I went over and plopped down on the computer chair even though it was currently occupied by Tom.

“Excuse me?” Tom said as I settled down.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said lightly. “I didn’t realize you were still on here. Being that you’ve been on here for over two hours, I thought that for sure you’d be gone by now.”

Tom mumbled something. I overheard “psychotic wife” but I let it go since he eventually got up so I could check my e-mail.

Then when I got off the computer Tom was following me around again.

“Okay Tom, you know how you said that Friday was Family Fun day? Well, I’m here to say that I’m NOT HAVING FUN!” I shrieked.

I said I was going to see a movie a few minutes later. I needed out of the house.

I went to see All About Steve which was an odd movie. I munched on my popcorn slathered in butter as I watched the strange turn of events unfold. Bradley Cooper, he’s easy on the eyes but he’s too much of a pretty boy for me.

As I was driving home it started to rain. This was followed by hail. I gripped the wheel because I hate driving in foul weather. Plus I was worried that the hail would damage my poor car. When I pulled up in front of the house my plan was to wait until the rain dissipated because at that point, it was still coming down in streams. I watched as drops bounced off the windshield and reached over to take a handful of leftover popcorn.

I was too busy enjoying the buttery goodness that I didn’t even see Tom come out of the house. Then I heard a thumping against my window and I screamed and nearly choked on a kernel.

Tom was standing there holding his jacket over his head to protect himself from the rain.

He had come out to bring me inside so I wouldn’t get wet.

Suddenly I felt bad for getting irritated with him. He doesn’t mean it. He just, I don’t know, loves me or something. And I’m grateful for it, of course I am, but I’m an Only Child and am just used to silence. And alone time.

“You came for me!” I said and then realized Tom couldn’t hear. He was still standing there, motioning for me to get out.

I cracked open my door. “You came for me!” I said again. I threw my arms around his neck and he stumbled backwards. He couldn’t return my hug because he was busy holding the jacket up.

“Can we do this inside?” Tom asked as the hail pinged down around us.

“We could kiss in the rain,” I suggested. The movies make this look so romantic but it’s really not. Tom and I kissed in the rain once and a big drop went down my back and caused me to screech in Tom’s poor ear. But still, I imagine that was just a fluke. Surely kissing in the rain can be romantic.

“Amber, it’s not only raining, it’s hailing,” Tom reminded me as a ball hit his shoe.

True. Suppose a piece of hail went down my back this time? That would probably hurt.

So Tom and I walked towards the front door with our makeshift umbrella above us. When we got inside I gave Tom a kiss.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” I said.

Tom grinned. “I’d come and get you anytime.”

Awww! Romance! I knew Tom had a romantic side to him, I just knew it! Even though he totally scratches his balls in front of me but no matter!. This proves that—

“Now how about thanking me properly?” Tom added, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

Oh geez.