We're going to take Mom's space heater from her room. She hung a pair of purple polyester pants over the thing last night while it was going full blast and melted them like burnt cotton candy. Another twenty minutes and she could have burned the house down.
When I smelled the plastic fumes and entered her room at 3:30 A.M., she finally woke (where's the insomnia when it's needed?). I explained what she had done and she apologized, saying she had "forgot." I don't know if she meant she forgot she wasn't supposed to put things on the heater or if she just forgot to take these pants off the heater. I didn't ask. It doesn't matter.
The sad fact is, she just can't be trusted with something that dangerous in her room unsupervised.
Besides, this has been an exceptionally warm winter so far and she doesn't really need the space heater. We just have to convince her to sleep under her electric blanket and stop sleeping on it.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Miscellanea
Why, when entering a limited access road, do people stop on the entrance ramp and, instead of using the acceleration/merge lane, wait for traffic to clear and then enter by immediately cutting across three lanes to start speeding up in the express lane? I have not seen this behavior anywhere else although it is being done here by drivers with a number of different out-of-state plates.
What I first took to be an obvious and badly placed speed trap turned out to be two city police cars, a city police pick-up truck and the city police dive squad panel truck all parked at the end of a canal. Not a good sign.
What I first took to be an obvious and badly placed speed trap turned out to be two city police cars, a city police pick-up truck and the city police dive squad panel truck all parked at the end of a canal. Not a good sign.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Rising Waters
I don't think we've hit the high water mark, yet, but the flood of political advertising has definitely increased. From my (intentionally) limited exposure I'd say almost one half of all television spots in prime time are now political with half of those being from the Romney camp, either directly ("I'm Mitt Romney and I approve . . .") or indirectly through his Super Pac. The majority of the rest are now from Gingrich with a smattering of others from Santorum. (Almost wrote "a smattering of Santorum." Eewww.)
None of them, as far as I can tell, speak to what the candidate intends to do if elected. They all appear to be along the lines of "Oh, yeah?", "Yeah!", "Oh, yeah?", "Yeah!", "Well, so's your mother!"
The problem is there is so little difference among the candidates, and so little difference between the two major parties, that they are all forced into ad hominem attacks and exaggerations of the small differences that do exist.
Tuesday can not get here soon enough.
None of them, as far as I can tell, speak to what the candidate intends to do if elected. They all appear to be along the lines of "Oh, yeah?", "Yeah!", "Oh, yeah?", "Yeah!", "Well, so's your mother!"
The problem is there is so little difference among the candidates, and so little difference between the two major parties, that they are all forced into ad hominem attacks and exaggerations of the small differences that do exist.
Tuesday can not get here soon enough.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Desperate Response Update
I may have been a bit premature regarding the beneficial effects of the sleeping pill I gave Mom two nights ago.
Today she disavowed all knowledge of, and any responsibility for, the letter she wrote. She didn't do it, she doesn't know who did and it's not her handwriting anyway.
And then she picked it up and added another couple of lines to the end.
At least she only got up once last night.
Today she disavowed all knowledge of, and any responsibility for, the letter she wrote. She didn't do it, she doesn't know who did and it's not her handwriting anyway.
And then she picked it up and added another couple of lines to the end.
At least she only got up once last night.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Desperate Response Pays Off
I finally gave Mom a sleeping pill last night. Actually they're more anti-anxiety pills than anything else. We've had the prescription for a couple of months now but I haven't wanted to use them because the doc said they would negatively affect her memory and cognitive abilities, which is the last thing she needs. I'd rather put up with some level of insomnia.
Last night, however, was out of control. Mom went to bed at 9:00, her usual time. She was up again at 10:30, then 11:30, then 12:15, 12:45, 1:30 and finally 2:00 A.M. So I broke down and offered her a sleeping pill which she accepted. I figured she wouldn't suffer any damage from just one.
I don't know when she got up this morning but it was early. When I woke up she was already out on the couch having just written a two-page letter to a friend of hers. I stole a look at it when she went to the bathroom.
Normally her "letters" are rambling, stream-of-consciousness, barely legible scrawls only one or two sentences long. This, however, was mostly coherent, with paragraphs and everything and, except for a couple of passages in the middle and one at the end, readable. She starts off with greetings to her friend, well-wishes and a brief explanation of how she, herself, is faring. She writes about our "acquiring" a cat, my brother's relationships, and Other Brother's holiday visit here with his kids (which was almost a month ago). There may be something in there about the orchids and roses.
We're considering making a "translation" as best we can since even her good handwriting requires study and some interpretation and her friend is almost as old as she is. Then we'll send both the original and the cleaned up copy.
I'm thinking the solid sleep she finally got last night may have helped her brain functions a bit. I'm still only going to give her the pills as sparingly as possible.
Last night, however, was out of control. Mom went to bed at 9:00, her usual time. She was up again at 10:30, then 11:30, then 12:15, 12:45, 1:30 and finally 2:00 A.M. So I broke down and offered her a sleeping pill which she accepted. I figured she wouldn't suffer any damage from just one.
I don't know when she got up this morning but it was early. When I woke up she was already out on the couch having just written a two-page letter to a friend of hers. I stole a look at it when she went to the bathroom.
Normally her "letters" are rambling, stream-of-consciousness, barely legible scrawls only one or two sentences long. This, however, was mostly coherent, with paragraphs and everything and, except for a couple of passages in the middle and one at the end, readable. She starts off with greetings to her friend, well-wishes and a brief explanation of how she, herself, is faring. She writes about our "acquiring" a cat, my brother's relationships, and Other Brother's holiday visit here with his kids (which was almost a month ago). There may be something in there about the orchids and roses.
We're considering making a "translation" as best we can since even her good handwriting requires study and some interpretation and her friend is almost as old as she is. Then we'll send both the original and the cleaned up copy.
I'm thinking the solid sleep she finally got last night may have helped her brain functions a bit. I'm still only going to give her the pills as sparingly as possible.
Monday, January 23, 2012
The Control of Illusion
Mom has been going through a slight OCD episode these last few days wherein she has been playing constantly with the control for her heating pad. She's also written all over the pad itself, but that's a different story. She keeps the pad with her all day on the couch although lately she's only been using it intermittently. (Last summer she kept it on all the time, even when the temperature in the house was over 80F. Now, in mid-"winter" she sometimes doesn't even use it when the temperature drops below 70F. It's really more habit than actual cold that triggers usage.)
This lack of use has not prevented her from leaving the thing on all day so that it heats the arm of the couch very nicely, thank you. We've spoken to her about this several times, explaining that it's OK to turn it on if she intends to use it but that it must be off otherwise. She's retained some garbled version of this which is, I believe, what has triggered her nervous attention to the control device.
A couple of times, now, after she's fiddled with it for several minutes, when I've asked her what she's doing she's said, "I don't know where this goes!" I explain that it doesn't need to go anywhere, it's OK to leave it right where it is unless she wants to use it, otherwise just leave it off, but she doesn't believe me. Last night she was pulling on the cord and I warned her she would unplug it if she wasn't careful. She insisted she didn't want to do that and was just trying to find out where the control was supposed to go.
She seems most content when she's stuffed the control down between the arm of the couch and the cushion whether it's on or not.
This lack of use has not prevented her from leaving the thing on all day so that it heats the arm of the couch very nicely, thank you. We've spoken to her about this several times, explaining that it's OK to turn it on if she intends to use it but that it must be off otherwise. She's retained some garbled version of this which is, I believe, what has triggered her nervous attention to the control device.
A couple of times, now, after she's fiddled with it for several minutes, when I've asked her what she's doing she's said, "I don't know where this goes!" I explain that it doesn't need to go anywhere, it's OK to leave it right where it is unless she wants to use it, otherwise just leave it off, but she doesn't believe me. Last night she was pulling on the cord and I warned her she would unplug it if she wasn't careful. She insisted she didn't want to do that and was just trying to find out where the control was supposed to go.
She seems most content when she's stuffed the control down between the arm of the couch and the cushion whether it's on or not.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
The Newest Member of the Clan
We seem to have been adopted by a stray cat.
She showed up around New Year's, a skinny, ratty, filthy calico stalking and skulking through the backyard. We'd see her every other day or so weaving slowly through the bushes along the property line. Once, she either stepped on something or was bitten and jumped a foot in the air, landing on her butt and spending the next five minutes examining her right rear foot. There are any number of neighborhood animals that occasionally cross our yard so we didn't think much about her (except for the entertainment value) until the last cold snap hit.
That's when my brother put out a cardboard box full of rags for her to stay warm in. We never caught her using it but I did find her curled up in a tipped over flower pot just outside the garbage can enclosure. a day later my brother found her lying in a sunny spot in the driveway.
And that's when he went out and bought a bag of cat food.
He said she looked like road kill lying there, all skin and bones and flatness. Apparently she's a lousy hunter despite all the birds we have hanging around (not that we support feral cats killing birds, they do too much of that as it is. Just sayin' she's not guilty). My brother said, whatever else might happen, no cat was going to starve to death on our property.
So now we feed her out at the head of the driveway. She's fattened out nicely although she is still dirty and her fur is a mess. She needs a good bath, delousing and combing but even my brother's soft-heartedness goes only so far and she is not getting into the house despite sometimes trailing us to the front door. Her voice is a raspy, rough, unpleasant "rrowwrr" although my brother claims to have heard her purr once. Still, she has no incentive to leave now. She sleeps under whichever vehicle has been used last (and which, therefore, is giving off waste heat).
We'll see how long this goes on before my brother decides to spend the money to take her to the vet.
She showed up around New Year's, a skinny, ratty, filthy calico stalking and skulking through the backyard. We'd see her every other day or so weaving slowly through the bushes along the property line. Once, she either stepped on something or was bitten and jumped a foot in the air, landing on her butt and spending the next five minutes examining her right rear foot. There are any number of neighborhood animals that occasionally cross our yard so we didn't think much about her (except for the entertainment value) until the last cold snap hit.
That's when my brother put out a cardboard box full of rags for her to stay warm in. We never caught her using it but I did find her curled up in a tipped over flower pot just outside the garbage can enclosure. a day later my brother found her lying in a sunny spot in the driveway.
And that's when he went out and bought a bag of cat food.
He said she looked like road kill lying there, all skin and bones and flatness. Apparently she's a lousy hunter despite all the birds we have hanging around (not that we support feral cats killing birds, they do too much of that as it is. Just sayin' she's not guilty). My brother said, whatever else might happen, no cat was going to starve to death on our property.
So now we feed her out at the head of the driveway. She's fattened out nicely although she is still dirty and her fur is a mess. She needs a good bath, delousing and combing but even my brother's soft-heartedness goes only so far and she is not getting into the house despite sometimes trailing us to the front door. Her voice is a raspy, rough, unpleasant "rrowwrr" although my brother claims to have heard her purr once. Still, she has no incentive to leave now. She sleeps under whichever vehicle has been used last (and which, therefore, is giving off waste heat).
We'll see how long this goes on before my brother decides to spend the money to take her to the vet.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Land o' Lethe
I woke up this morning at 5:30 a.m. to the smell of smoke.
When I went into the hall I could tell that it was not coming from Mom's room which meant she had not placed an article of clothing on top of the space heater--again. We had caught her doing that once before and warned her of the danger and, although she seemed to understand, we have been nervous about it ever since and check on it frequently. This time, again, all was well.
There was however, a light on in the kitchen.
The last couple of nights Mom has been going through her insomnia cycle again, and this evening, after turning in at 9:00, she was back in the kitchen at 9:30 for a "snack" (a handful of breakfast cereal), and again in the living room at 10:30 and midnight, both times to say "Good morning!" (At which point she couldn't remember ever having anything to eat earlier.) I thought she might have gotten up one more time and tried to fix herself another snack.
The kitchen was deserted but the light over the stove was on as was the stove itself. And on the stove was a smoking, blackened pan of carbonized chicken and dumplings, leftover from my brother's supper. Mom was off the hook as the stove light is too high for her to reach. Which meant my brother, who had come home around 2:00 a.m., had decided to reheat the leftovers as a midnight snack of his own and had then gone to bed. Since the burner was not set very high, it took several hours for the liquid to evaporate and the residue to burn.
When he finally arose this morning, my brother came out of his room sniffing the air. "Who burned what?" he asked as he rounded into the kitchen and spied the pan soaking in the sink. "Oh." He sighed. "I guess it runs in the family." Indeed. He is spending his afternoon scouring the pan.
It would also seem to be well past time to recharge the smoke detectors.
When I went into the hall I could tell that it was not coming from Mom's room which meant she had not placed an article of clothing on top of the space heater--again. We had caught her doing that once before and warned her of the danger and, although she seemed to understand, we have been nervous about it ever since and check on it frequently. This time, again, all was well.
There was however, a light on in the kitchen.
The last couple of nights Mom has been going through her insomnia cycle again, and this evening, after turning in at 9:00, she was back in the kitchen at 9:30 for a "snack" (a handful of breakfast cereal), and again in the living room at 10:30 and midnight, both times to say "Good morning!" (At which point she couldn't remember ever having anything to eat earlier.) I thought she might have gotten up one more time and tried to fix herself another snack.
The kitchen was deserted but the light over the stove was on as was the stove itself. And on the stove was a smoking, blackened pan of carbonized chicken and dumplings, leftover from my brother's supper. Mom was off the hook as the stove light is too high for her to reach. Which meant my brother, who had come home around 2:00 a.m., had decided to reheat the leftovers as a midnight snack of his own and had then gone to bed. Since the burner was not set very high, it took several hours for the liquid to evaporate and the residue to burn.
When he finally arose this morning, my brother came out of his room sniffing the air. "Who burned what?" he asked as he rounded into the kitchen and spied the pan soaking in the sink. "Oh." He sighed. "I guess it runs in the family." Indeed. He is spending his afternoon scouring the pan.
It would also seem to be well past time to recharge the smoke detectors.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The Coming Flood
It's kind of like being downstream from a burst dam. You can see the waters coming, rising inexorably, and know there is no way to escape them. Best thing to do is just climb onto the roof and hope the foundations hold.
The political advertising has started.
We watched it start in Iowa, flow to New Hampshire, grow in intensity in South Carolina and now we're next. Florida's Republican primary is at the end of the month, barely two weeks after SC and the ads (mostly from Romney and Romney's "totally uncoordinated" super-PAC) are increasing accordingly.
The super-PAC is mostly bashing Gingrich. There's a judo ad warning how Gingrich's negative attacks are beyond the pale and then proceeding to negatively attack Gingrich. The pro-Romney ad has him claiming he will determine the worth of a federal program by whether or not the Chinese are willing to finance it. Might it not make more sense to find out if the American people are willing to pay for it?
It's only going to get worse before the month is over. I see no recourse put to take refuge on the metaphorical roof of my local NPR station. And admire the orchids which continue to bloom. And the roses, which have started again. And the tomatoes which are ripening one by one in perfect sequence.
The political advertising has started.
We watched it start in Iowa, flow to New Hampshire, grow in intensity in South Carolina and now we're next. Florida's Republican primary is at the end of the month, barely two weeks after SC and the ads (mostly from Romney and Romney's "totally uncoordinated" super-PAC) are increasing accordingly.
The super-PAC is mostly bashing Gingrich. There's a judo ad warning how Gingrich's negative attacks are beyond the pale and then proceeding to negatively attack Gingrich. The pro-Romney ad has him claiming he will determine the worth of a federal program by whether or not the Chinese are willing to finance it. Might it not make more sense to find out if the American people are willing to pay for it?
It's only going to get worse before the month is over. I see no recourse put to take refuge on the metaphorical roof of my local NPR station. And admire the orchids which continue to bloom. And the roses, which have started again. And the tomatoes which are ripening one by one in perfect sequence.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Au Revoir, Pingouin Qui Attend
The giant "penguin" waiter is no longer standing by the Christmas tree. It's been returned to my brother's room until next year.
I put "penguin" in quotes because I believe that's what it is supposed to be although the bill resembles a duck's and it's "crest" (or whatever that is) is swept back down its neck so it looks more like a 50s greaser wood duck except for the lack of cigarettes and attitude.
It is over three feet tall and made of wood, mostly. Its body colors are penguiny black and white under a red waistcoat type of jacket (except with tails) trimmed in black around the pocket, and it wears a black bow tie. Its right flipper (definitely not a wing) presents a metal tray on which, during the holidays, are placed candy, cookies and other treats for the taking. The rest of the year, in my brother's room, it tends to hold spare change and random pocket findings.
What exactly this creature has to do with Christmas escapes me. Nevertheless, I will miss it.
I put "penguin" in quotes because I believe that's what it is supposed to be although the bill resembles a duck's and it's "crest" (or whatever that is) is swept back down its neck so it looks more like a 50s greaser wood duck except for the lack of cigarettes and attitude.
It is over three feet tall and made of wood, mostly. Its body colors are penguiny black and white under a red waistcoat type of jacket (except with tails) trimmed in black around the pocket, and it wears a black bow tie. Its right flipper (definitely not a wing) presents a metal tray on which, during the holidays, are placed candy, cookies and other treats for the taking. The rest of the year, in my brother's room, it tends to hold spare change and random pocket findings.
What exactly this creature has to do with Christmas escapes me. Nevertheless, I will miss it.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Melchior Bites the Dust
Or maybe Balthazar. One of the Magi. I can never tell them apart.
Mom had been promising to take down the creche for several days but never got around to it even though my brother had put out the box and tissue paper. The figures are fairly large, 5+ inches for a standing adult, 9 or more for a standing laden camel. Holy Family, Magi, shepherds, various domestic animals and a three piece manger (central structure with two wings). And an angel on a stick. To float above the whole scene.
They're ceramic, and nicely hand painted by Mom back when she had both sight and fine-motor control. So that makes it kind of an heirloom.
Anyway, my brother decided to take it down himself while I was out and when I returned everything was packed up except the one kneeling wise man who had taken a spill and broken his base. There are two or three large shards which will be easy to reassemble, but also a noticeable bit of dust which means he will have cracks and pin holes however carefully the repairs are done.
For now he lies on the counter surrounded by pieces of himself and a bottle of glue.
Mom had been promising to take down the creche for several days but never got around to it even though my brother had put out the box and tissue paper. The figures are fairly large, 5+ inches for a standing adult, 9 or more for a standing laden camel. Holy Family, Magi, shepherds, various domestic animals and a three piece manger (central structure with two wings). And an angel on a stick. To float above the whole scene.
They're ceramic, and nicely hand painted by Mom back when she had both sight and fine-motor control. So that makes it kind of an heirloom.
Anyway, my brother decided to take it down himself while I was out and when I returned everything was packed up except the one kneeling wise man who had taken a spill and broken his base. There are two or three large shards which will be easy to reassemble, but also a noticeable bit of dust which means he will have cracks and pin holes however carefully the repairs are done.
For now he lies on the counter surrounded by pieces of himself and a bottle of glue.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Arboretum
During the "cold snap" a few days ago, my brother felt the need to bring in some of his more delicate plants in case the temperature dropped to actual freezing (it didn't). The living room is now filled with orchids all (except the chocolate one) blooming in red, lavender and white, a Christmas cactus (which is actually two in one pot. The pink one is through blooming but the red one has just started), and some other weird epiphytic cactus (apparently a Ric Rac or Fishbone cactus) hanging from the lanai door top and originally taken from a cutting and stuck in soil that now boasts multiple four foot long trailers of alternating shark's fin leaves.
They juxtapose strangely with the Christmas tree but it and the other decorations are starting to come down. Soon we'll be back to just jungle.
They juxtapose strangely with the Christmas tree but it and the other decorations are starting to come down. Soon we'll be back to just jungle.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Mom-Sequiturs: Promise Kept
Mom has a tendency to nod off frequently during the day, usually when reading. Partially this is due to her bad sleeping habits and predilection for getting up several times during the night thinking it's morning already. Partially it's just due to being almost 92 years old. Usually, her head slowly sinks to her chest until the book falls from her hands which wakes her to start the cycle over again.
This morning, after breakfast, she was reading her latest large-print book from the library. Suddenly, she closed the book put her head all the way back on the couch cushion and declared, "I think I'll snore a little for a while." Which she did.
This morning, after breakfast, she was reading her latest large-print book from the library. Suddenly, she closed the book put her head all the way back on the couch cushion and declared, "I think I'll snore a little for a while." Which she did.
Friday, January 6, 2012
January, Florida Style
Our "cold spell" seems to be ending without too much damage. The weather people have been giving us frost warnings and the counties to the north freeze warnings for the past few days but the only damage I could find has been to one tomato. It and another one were pretty ripe so I picked them. (Another three or four will be ready by the weekend.) And another lemon has fallen from its tree.
Mom has a space heater in her room (along with her electric blanket) and has not complained of the cold at all, yet.
Today is sunny, a literally cloudless sky, no humidity, a slight breeze and temps in the mid 60s. A far cry from this time last year.
Mom has a space heater in her room (along with her electric blanket) and has not complained of the cold at all, yet.
Today is sunny, a literally cloudless sky, no humidity, a slight breeze and temps in the mid 60s. A far cry from this time last year.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The Reward Is in the Doing
This month's platelet donation went reasonably well. Two months ago I was perfect, didn't beep once. Last month was awful. Couldn't go more than two minutes (max!) without setting off the machine.
This time, once the RN adjusted the draw down to a reasonable level (when she saw how high my platelet count was she got excited and when I agreed to do a double she set the draw high enough to finish in the same amount of time as a regular session--bad idea), I only beeped maybe every five minutes or so. Not great, but not bad, either.
The best part is, they give me a pointy stick with which I can poke the machine to reset it. The one I use has one fist-sized and maybe eight more mini skulls impaled on it. So when the machine beeps and shuts down because my vein isn't allowing the needle to suck as fast as it wants, I just reach across my body and the bulk of the contraption and poke it right in the reset button. So there!
It's very satisfying. The T-shirts, apple juice and cookies are nice, but nothing beats a pointy stick.
This time, once the RN adjusted the draw down to a reasonable level (when she saw how high my platelet count was she got excited and when I agreed to do a double she set the draw high enough to finish in the same amount of time as a regular session--bad idea), I only beeped maybe every five minutes or so. Not great, but not bad, either.
The best part is, they give me a pointy stick with which I can poke the machine to reset it. The one I use has one fist-sized and maybe eight more mini skulls impaled on it. So when the machine beeps and shuts down because my vein isn't allowing the needle to suck as fast as it wants, I just reach across my body and the bulk of the contraption and poke it right in the reset button. So there!
It's very satisfying. The T-shirts, apple juice and cookies are nice, but nothing beats a pointy stick.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
A Good Start To a New Year
My brother came back from the store on the morning of New Year's Eve with a couple of treats: a pound of shrimp and three lobster tails. So New Year's Eve dinner consisted of shrimp in linguine, a large mixed salad, and broiled lobster in drawn butter. (Despite this generation living all over the country, we've been New Englanders for the last 390+ years. Doing anything else with lobster is just gilding the lily.) And a 2010 Argentine Malbec. Sure it's a red but it was very fruity and went quite well with the seafood.
There were a couple of minor issues. Mom didn't notice that the shrimp had not been shelled and popped a whole one in her mouth legs and all. My brother made her spit it out and we took a minute to make them edible for her (and insisted she use her fork). She claimed she could get the meat from the lobster tail herself but couldn't with her fork and we, again, had to stop her from pulling it out with her teeth. We warned her she could cut her lips on the shell but she didn't seem to mind the risk.
Once we had the rest of her meal prepped and safe to eat, she lifted her glass and called out "Happy New Year!"
Our goal is to get her to the next one, but at least her attitude is in the right place.
There were a couple of minor issues. Mom didn't notice that the shrimp had not been shelled and popped a whole one in her mouth legs and all. My brother made her spit it out and we took a minute to make them edible for her (and insisted she use her fork). She claimed she could get the meat from the lobster tail herself but couldn't with her fork and we, again, had to stop her from pulling it out with her teeth. We warned her she could cut her lips on the shell but she didn't seem to mind the risk.
Once we had the rest of her meal prepped and safe to eat, she lifted her glass and called out "Happy New Year!"
Our goal is to get her to the next one, but at least her attitude is in the right place.
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