I managed to remain comparitively pleasant throughout the painfull 6- hr. house cleaning on Sat. We didn't make a dent that 5 days on a dirt road with 3 dogs won't return everything to same as it ever was. But, Bubba was on a roll, with the intent of puttting down tile in the living room while I was gone on Sunday rounds the next day. He finished 1/3 of the living room, and the remaining tile will divide the room in half, half to be completed this wkend, the other, sooner or later. As I have menioned, he is a good son to his Mom, but her dementia is flying along at record speed. Once a day (@ least) he visits her, and then, she usually calls 3-5 times. She hadn't called at all while I was on rounds Sunday, which worried him, and so he called to check on her & she called him back 3 times in the hour we had together before crashing...Pandora's box.

I found my Dad's WWII dog tags during the cleaning & took them to him on Sunday along with a "Life" magazine, "This Great Century.1940-1950." When I arrived at the nursing home, he was in a foul temper...they'd just had a fire drill & all the residents had to go outside in the sunshine & brisk wind. He was berating the staff, saying that they were running around like the Keystone Cops with their heads cut off. I had Steak n Shake cheeseburgers at his request and he started raving that at last he would have some "real food". He mumbled and grumbled all through his sad attempts to eat his cheese steakburger & even though I had them slice 'em in half, it is a messy, exasperating thing to watch theses octragenerians try to bite through the pickels, lettuce, onions & tomatos & meat as everything was slip-sliding away before they could get it into their mouths. Rex was there to clean up the mess on the floor, but he doesn't do veggies... After the meal, I brought out his dog tags & as I hoped, he mellowed into memories. He told me of the first Nazi he shot in the war...how he had gone through the guy's pockets & came across a picture of who he assumed to be the man's wife and little girl...and, how he sat in the battlefield and cried. Then, he cried again, starting to re-live it again.

"Dad, I brought these to you to remind you that you are stronger than you think. Don't cry, Daddy. Be the brave man that you are," and he straightened up & tried to do just that...at least until I left. Rene is confused...always accusing him of infedlity & confusing him with her first husband. They exchange bitter words, then hold hands, watch "Lifetime", and daze into their own separate realities...

Like my Mom...she woke up when Rex & I arrived...wanted to get up and smoke...a cigarette and a half or so later, the wind chill won out over the sunshine & she agreed to go in. Went right back to bed, made sure her TV was on the channel for Nascar, and was asleep before I had my coat back on. There was little conversation, just gloating over Rex, and then she was over the visit entirely. She's so far away. Right there in front of me, and a million miles away, with no discernable way to bridge the gap.

These are all such strange ways for such fun-loving, intelligent people to live out these last phases of their lives...strangers to themselves, stranger every day.

Finished rounds at my sister's where she played the 2nd half of the long-ago mentioned Eagles Farewell I Concert in Melbourne. Haven't eveb opened Sir Paul's Red Square. Busy, tiring Monday. Tomorrow starts the rest of the week in inventory, and I have seen better days.

But I'm stronger than i think, and braver than I feel, and will do what needs to be done...eventually.

and I must join him, or suffer the rebuke of my blogging addiction...I will never let this come between us, but, I'd rather be blogging than cleaning & organizing adult responsibity crappola which I must tend to now or suffer the consequences. Suddenly, this Saturday no longer belongs to The Eagles, Paul McCartney, or me in my jammies drinking coffee, surfing...it belongs to adult responsibilities and I just hate when that happens, as I'd rather be rocking & surfing. Ye olde junk room & too much other stuff awaits. THIS COULD BE HEAVEN OR THIS COULD BE HELL. I'll do my best to work towards the former...regardless, it sounds like work to me...but I gotta go do it. So I best quit blogging about it & just do it. for awhile

1)Bubba washed the smiley face off his bald spot theis AM-said the lil guy "had faces to go." he says,he performed a "Face Off".

2)Eagles @ Melbourne Farewell I Tour arrived in mail today. Any despair at money spent, has dissapated into thrills, chills, enthusiasm & energy. This so absolutly rocks, kids! Whatever "IT" is, the is CD is brimming over with it. go get yer own, pronto!

3) I got home from work today, hopped out of my new,red, truck called "Old Yeller", stood in the sun, and actually got weak knees and pleasantly dizzy, with the rush that it was indeed funky, Friday, & I was off work & HAD MY 2 NEW DVDS IN HAND, AND the dogs were jumping with joy to see me so joyfull on this sunny Friday & it was a monumental homecoming! I should do this more often. Needless to say, I had taken the long country roads home...

4) I got Season 3 of "The Pretender" for Bubba's Valentine present & we are having quality time watching the episodes together when ever I am not rocking out in the bedroom.

5)This is such a grateful Eagles DVD...music will get me through my frequent bouts with depression and the trials that are yet to come in my Indiana mid-life crisis(s)...reality does bite...but music heals.

If I pay attention to my surroundings I can get really bummed &/or extremely high on life-can't we all, I guess. Just when I think my folks could not be more senile, they go a little bit more crazy, and I know the worst is yet to come. Bubba's Mom is so far gone. He is doing the best he can, but he is where my siblings and I were 3 or 4 yrs ago, trying to keep the levee from tumbling as the storms ceaselessly rage on and on and on.

Bubba came home yesterday with a WALLY WORLD bag & said"I've got a present for you..." Curious, but cautious, I knew something was up. He opened the bag to display a blood pressure cuff. It isn't for monitoring my blood pressure...it has always been text-book within normal limits. It was for him. I'm begging him to do something about his high blood pressure, but he's a good ol' country boy in denial that he has a probable big problem...no matter when he takes it, resting, after seeing his Mom, in the morning, in the evening, his BP is always somthing high over 92,93,94...which is way too high. it is a step. At least now, he will monitor it. Getting him to go see a doc and getting an RX to try to achieve a more normal BP will be another minor miracle, but this, at least is a step. There are several folks at both of my folk's nursing homes around our age, stroke victims, folks who didn't pay attention to their body's warning signals. It cannot help but weigh heavy on my headspace. I would crumble without him.

Then, he goes & does something like he just now did-he drew a lil' smiley face on his head's lil bald spot, so that he could amuse the guys @ work tomorrow...and me tonight. I still can't grasp where this came from or why, and he says "I'm just a little different, Cher, that's all." Tell me something that I don't know...we do laugh a lot. I hope we can often laugh alot.

There must have been 15 people at work today,coughing, wheezing, sneezing, moaning, groaning, all suffering, all trying to finish their 12 hr workday, as they say that they can not afford to go home. After 3 or 4 hrs of observing my sickly buds suffer beautifully, my throat started to hurt, I got weak, my joints were achey, and ye olde headache kicked in right on schedule with a sudden down pour of rain. I bravely suffered through my day, but vacated as soon as it was feasible, and had a very shaky drive home down the country roads. I'm glad I took the back roads, but was jumpy, and drifty, and the tunes were bugging me instead of inspiring me. Not a good sign, but still possibly all in my head. I am now and always have been very susceptible to suggestion...I can not afford to miss work either- I just ordered The Eagles Farewell Concert in Melbourne, along with Paul McCartney @ Red Square, both DVD's Amazon has been dangling in front of me for over a week now.
If I can procrastinate being sick for the next 7-10 days, then I can watch them from my sick bed and let them take me to Melbourne and Russia in my Jamaican Rock dreams. But if I am sick tomorrow, it will be what I have on hand, which ain't nothing to sneeze at as it is.

Tomorrow, the adventure continues. Tonight, I crash & burn. At least I have a plan.

My FM station is in the M's in their alphabetical extravaganza.
mmmmmmmmmm" Memory Motel,"Mercy, Mercy, Me" on the way home, giving me chills, other "M"'s that have already fallen by the wayside due to my troubles with short term memory, but living in the moment, was a thrill all the way to work & all the way home again.

What's wrong with this picture? I had a great Monday...no one is supposed to do that. I gotta give the credit to Kharma...and to Billy Jones, who e-mailed me to sleep well, with sweet dreams which was the straw that pushed me over the edge to do the right thing & hit the road & have a great Sunday, followed by a great Monday.

Now what goes up, must come down-this I know. Can't pull off a good day every day, so this picture is obviously for a limited time only. God grant me the serenity...will cross that bridge when the cow jumps over the silver spoon.

I am having trouble with some adult responsiblities. I transferred funds to checking so I could cover my bills(outrageous pain clinic bills-we will do no further business together...I can not afford them & they do nothing for me that lasts any more than 2wks)but, I am having trouble just doing the paper work...just getting it done. I know it must be a phase, a form of denial, a gift for procrastination. So, tonite, I wrote all but 1 of the checks(they don't seem to be sending me return envelopes...so I need to find one for the lab). The psyche is a wierd thing...I know what needs to be done, but I just skip ovet the top of the water without reaching the destination I need to find. And it is right in front of me...just like everything I am looking for...it is just right there in front of me, but in my denial, it flies right over my head and out the window.

I have a good life, but I am so strange...and then again, not really.