Half a Duo

When I was a kid pets were not really a prized commodity in our house. My first dog was named Cocoa and she was a german shephard that my parents gave away when I was very young, probably before I was 5. All I remember about her is that she would jump on me and scare me when I was a child. My second dog was Blacky, a Cocker Spaniel. I loved that dog. She was black, ergo the clever name, with a white star on her neck. My parents gave her away when we moved and told me she had been hit by a car. I sat inside her dog house and literally howled like a dog and cried an amazing amount of tears. It was only later they told me they gave her away. To this day I don't know the real story.

Then when I was about 10 years old my stepfather raised rabbits in order to sell their pelts and to eat, as stew or whatever. I remember we had a lot of cages in the backyard and well over 100 rabbits. Then one day I saw how he killed them. He would hang them up on the clothesline and hit them in the head with a baseball bat, then take a machetti and cut their heads off then proceed to skin them. It was that day I stopped eating stew at our house.

When I was about 20 a dog found me. A dog my oldest son named Autrie (after Gene Autry, he was so young but knew who that was, go figure). I kept that dog for awhile until I realized I was too immature to care for a dog and then had him adopted out. It was hard but the right thing to do.

From then on I always pretended that I hated animals. In that way I never had to deal with them "leaving" me and as a result feeling sadness over an animal, after all there were plenty of other things to be sad about.

Then when I was 27 my oldest son had a friend whose family raised pure bred shelties. A litter had been born and I wanted to see them, I was sure I was ready for another animal and also wanted my children exposed to a dog they wouldn't have to get rid of. There were only two puppies left in the litter. I brought them both home to decide which one I wanted. Initially I decided on the male (didn't want a female to get pregnant and bring me more dogs). But after awhile realized that I had to get both, they were after all the last two of the litter and I couldn't separate them or just leave one behind.

After much debate my husband and I decided to name them Hansel and Gretel (we were extremely "kid friendly" at the time).

Then when I was 30 I divorced and took Hansel and Gretel with me when I moved out of the marital home. We had joint custody of the children but the dogs were mine.

Anyone that knows me knows Hansel and Gretel. Real "pain in the ass" kind of dogs. They have yelped like puppies from day one, escaped from the yard and had to be tracked down and never have been the best house trained animals.

My kids have joked that they don't really know their names because every time you say one name you say the other. It is rare that you would just yell for Hansel or Gretel to come, you would always yell for both to come.

Today is the first day I am yelling for one to come, the other died of kidney failure. My grief is overwhelming.

The New "Tween"

The term "tween" is meant for those between childhood and teenage years. I have discovered another "tween". I am a tween, between adult and old.

I think I'm about past the time of going to concerts, but still enjoy some "new" music and will watch a concert on television. I still follow current trends in some clothing but much prefer the classics; for example, leggings are the new "in" thing. I have some left over from the '80's. Are they really new? I'm gonna call this the new classic. I drink gourmet coffee from an overpriced coffee shop but on occasion just really want a cup of Folgers. In the future I am sure I will tend more toward the Folgers because I am getting old and stingy (read worried about retirement). I like the coffee shop better but it sure is hard to justify $3.00 for plain old coffee and $5.00 for my mocha with two extra shots of espresso.

I tend more toward simplifying than toward my younger years of excess, in just about all matters except complaining. This has become my new constant, I gripe and bitch a lot about just about everything from politics to other drivers on the road. Clearly a sign of getting old. I count my change when handed to me at the grocery store and when I give my children money for the store I check the receipt. I can tell you down to the last penny what I spend and what I spend it on each month.

I am old enough to know that plans don't usually work out, but young enough to continue making them. Drinking in bars has just about run its course for me, unless it is a small town bar where I can wear my flip flops and leggings from the '80's.

I'm old enough to know that I really am going to die, but young enough that I have not yet made up my mind about how I want to be put to rest...burned or buried, I think I prefer the little houses above ground that rich people have in Louisiana, what are they called again? I'm too old to remember. Oh yeah, I'm young enough to remember but old enough that I can't remember how to spell it. It starts with M.

I'm old enough to wash out ziploc bags but young enough that I don't do it every time that I have a reusable bag to wash out. I'm old enough to know where the best deals in town are, but young enough to still choose convenience over price most days (or is that old enough to choose convenience?).

I'm young enough to care about my physical appearance but old enough to eat the bag of chips anyway. I'm young enough to flirt but old enough to know who I should flirt with...other old people.

Well, this about sums it up for now. I am sure it will be difficult for me to sleep tonight, my old self will stay awake thinking of what is still young about me.

And then the planets lined up just right...

I have had a crazy couple of days. First, I worked 14 1/2 hours yesterday and 10 hours today. Crazy long days but some strange stuff happened these last 2 days...

First, the resident that wanted his $50 yelled at me for having favorites. Truth be told, of course I have favorites but not in the way he implied. He implied that his food comes last because of me, ridiculous. The man actually had rage in his eyes.

Next, I had a very interesting conversation with a lady at the home. We were talking about her family. She has only one child, a daughter. From her she got three grandchildren and ten great grandchildren. When I asked her what happened to her husband. She told me that he was a "sex nut" and always thought the grass was greener somewhere else so she divorced him. But never fear she remarried a man 11 years her junior. She told me they had a wonderful relationship until his "real" wife showed up. He was not divorced when he married her. So she has been single for 40 years now. When I shared this story with a coworker, they said that explained why she was so bitter. I'm not sure it does, and I'm not sure that is what I would call her.

Actually, I think I really "get" her. LOL

Then today the visit from my new "boss". God how I hate to even think of him in those terms. I sure hope he never finds this blog because I really don't like him much. I am in enough fear of that that I won't elaborate. Suffice it to say that my previous "boss" was really smart and this one is n_t. I think I am safe with that ( I crack myself up).

Then the craziest thing happened when I got home today. My daughter was asleep in my bed, my son was playing games in his room. No problems whatsoever. The planets aligned just right. Did they have some sort of other world vision that mommy was in serious need of a no problem night? These kinds of Friday nights are hard to come by with two teenagers. Whatever the reason for the calm house on a Friday night I am truly grateful.

To reward myself for such a hard working week I think I will put my jammies on and play poker online. Just what I need, a bunch of nothing to do, so looking forward to it!

My Letter to Ryan

My best friend's son is coming back from Iraq on September 15th. I have watched him grow from a little boy to now a man of 21. He is coming home to some things that are way different than when he left. Prepare yourself Ryan. My letter to you:

I know that you sometimes read the blog. I'm not sure if this one will be of help or not. But here is what you are coming home to:

First, as I am sure you heard lol you have a brand new daughter that you have never held. I am not sure how that will feel to you and I'm not sure that you can prepare yourself for it either. Either brace yourself for a flood of wonderful emotion OR brace yourself for the responsibilty that you may feel, either way, brace yourself.

Second, Ryan you have a new marriage that you probably need to work on. It's hard for a young mother to remember that you love and support her without the constant physical and emotional needs being met as she meets her new responsibilities. Remember that she is drained from months of going "solo" with the new life that now requires her every moment of attention. Give her some time and some support, don't expect more than she can give. It will come.

Third, your mother has changed quite a bit. She has tackled a major life choice head on and it has changed the dymamics of the family. You have never seen your mother like this before.

Fourth, I don't know first hand, but some things never change, I hear your sister is still a brat ( I say it lovingly). But, I tend to believe your mom.

Fifth, you have changed. I am not sure exactly what has changed but so many months away in a controlled environment had to make an impression that others won't understand right away and you may not feel the full impact until you are back.

At any rate you are coming back to family and friends that love you and a new life that holds tremendous promise. But you have to be ready for it, it's all new. You can handle it, you certainly aren't a little boy sitting on my deck anymore.

Love ya and can't wait to see you!

A New Service Needed for Residents...not my field

Ah yet another tale of the nursing home. Trust me that this is not one that will put you in a melancholy mood, at least I don't think so.

There is a business office at the nursing home that acts as a bank for residents. Either your own money or money your family wants you to have access to is deposited there. You can withdraw funds from 8-3 Monday thru Friday. Most residents don't have need for much money, unless they are big catalog shoppers, and some of the women are. But for the most part people use this money for special treats from the vending machine, cigarettes and the occasional group shopping trip to the mall ( I truly pity the person that takes them shopping).

I overheard one of the residents complaining about not being able to get his money out. It wasn't necessarily that I had to strain to hear him, he was quite vocal. So vocal in fact that the Executive Director was called to the business office to help with the situation as the male resident was beginning to scare the female banker. You need to know that the resident is about 80 years old, he wears black all the time and sings Johnny Cash songs. His wife has no desire to have him return home because of years of cheating on his part (let this be a lesson to you cheaters! your spouse will leave you in a nursing home!).

At any rate, the Executive Director asked the resident what the problem was. The resident responded that he wanted $50, which he did not have in his account(another lesson to cheaters, your spouse will leave you in a nursing home with less than $50!). He had tried to bargain with the "banker" for a loan. When the banker denied his request a string of obscenities began to fly from the resident and now he was trying to obtain the same $50 from the Director. Naturally the Director asked him what it was that was so important that he needed the $50 for...wait for it, wait for it.

"A hooker" replied the resident. Only a man could have thought of the question that the Director asked next, "What do you think you could get for $50 from a hooker?"

The classic reply " I'm 80, how long do you think it will take?"

Poor guy never did get his $50 or the hooker to go with it.

A Good Man

I often leave the nursing home where I work, shaking my head and contemplating the many different types of people I come into contact with there. But this week has been a bit of a "doozy".

We had a new resident move in to spend his final days there. He is only 53 but it is well known that he has come there to die. His wife chose the nursing home opposed to her home because she did not want their children to watch him die and she fears being the one to find him dead. He is very ill with kidney failure and has had 5 heart attacks. He doesn't suffer much pain but he does have dialysis 3 times a week and that tends to rob a body of all energy.

I was given his basic information upon admittance. His diagnosis, family status etc. I visit all new residents to determine their nutritional needs and to obtain their likes and dislikes in food choices. This generally takes about 30 minutes with an individual. But with this resident it took about 2 hours because he told me his life story.

The kind balding man with a beard as thick as Santa Claus; this father of two and husband to a very nice and loving wife had once been a woman. He was a she until age 32. His wife was his sister's best friend at one time, not anymore. His sister, father and mother all disowned him when he became a man, until he came to the nursing home. Now they were all present and fawning over him. To me that may have been too little too late. To him it was a great blessing. To have the family that had shunned him now cry for his imminent death and all the lost time.

He explained that it was not for him that he was so happy, but for his children and wife. He said that now his wife would have her best friend back and his children would have another set of grandparents and all of that would surely help them manage their personal pain over his death.

I thought him an extremely caring man. I could not see the woman he used to be I could only see a man looking out for his family.

He died on Thursday of this week. He was only at the nursing home for 4 days and unfortunately it was his wife that found him dead after all.

The whole family came up to clean his room out today and I could see that the children were lucky to have the new set of grandparents and that the wife had a friend again in her husbands sister. But it was still a pretty young family missing their father and husband.

He was a good man and not someone I will forget.

My Little Lovelies,,,Yeah, Right

My kids are driving me flipping crazy! Yeah, yeah I love them but... I am sick of sharing with them! I am sick of their laziness and in a surprising twist (seeing as how I just said I am sick of sharing with them) I am sick of their selfishness! In a nutshell, I am sick of teenagers!

I have two of the little lovely darlings (hey, I have this blog for a reason! So that I can release some steam in a healthy fashion. So, allow me to continue.) to tell the truth, they just don't seem so lovely lately. Both of them could live in a pigstye and be just fine with it. They can wait until there is not a single freaking utensil in the house and then just wash the one fork they might need. They can and do sit on their ass all day long and then have the nerve to act tired when I get home from a 12 hour day! Today I am so sick of both of them that I don't even have it in me to yell. I just sighed when I walked in the door (the loud kind of sigh that says I am disgusted). This did not deter the little angels, they just went straight for the food that I brought in, after of course they washed the one utensil they would need for it.

Everyday that I come in I have to hunt my laptop down, after a million times of saying leave it in the kitchen. I am so tempted to take it to work with me for the next month just so they can't use it. I have been sharing with these people ever since they were born. Let me count the ways...I am a germaphobe so I was never a parent that would share a drink with them when they were little, if they wanted a drink then my drink became theirs. Same goes for food. And of course like every parent I have sacrificed what I wanted or needed to make sure they got what they wanted or needed. I sacrificed time to watch the most horrible school productions you have ever lived through. I put up with people I hated because they liked them. And mind you, I have done all of this with love in my heart. But dammit today I have had my fill!

I want something that they cannot touch, something that is just mine. To this day my daughter takes my blow dryer (not that I use it much but its the principle). Clothes, computer, shampoo etc. I know it all sounds so damn petty and I suppose it is.

Maybe it wouldn't seem so bad if they would just clean the goddamn kitchen without having to be told or acting like it was a punishment worse then death!

Ok, I think I feel well enough to go yell about the kitchen now. Come to think of it, I want the floors mopped too!