Life sure is funny sometimes. Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, along comes a twist in your knickers.
Not that I’m complaining.
I’ve lived long enough to know that not everything goes according to plan so I really shouldn’t be surprised when weird things happen. Well, maybe weird isn’t the right word.
You see, I’m one of those folks who is quite happy to be home with nothing but a book, a snack, and a glass of Dr. Pepper. Lately, though, I seem to have lost the desire to read. This may not sound like a big deal to many, but it’s a big surprise to me. I’ve been a bookworm for decades and have always been of the opinion that I’d rather read than sleep, but these days I’d rather pile up on the couch with my dog and watch TV.
I’ve always been more of a cat person. Cats are independent. All they need is a full bowl of kibble, clean water, and a tidy litter box. They only want about 5 minutes of lap time each day and they’re pretty content to be off sleeping on the foot of the bed in the spare bedroom.
Dogs just need more. A lot more. Mine wants constant attention. She wants to be petted every second of every day and, if I’m sitting down, she wants in my lap. She is not a lap dog. She is a 70-pound golden retriever named Molly.
It’s the dog’s fault I don’t want to read anymore. When I do try to read, she squirms and tries to nibble on the book. Besides, she is just too cuddly and I’ve gotten really attached. Just look at that face!
My mom has always been, and always will be, the voice in my head that keeps me on the straight and narrow, especially through times when I couldn’t see two feet in front of me, much less what’s around the bend. She has been the strongest influence on my life, though most times I’d chafe at admitting it.
Throughout her 87 years, she relied on herself to overcome life’s hurdles. Her strength of character and determination saw her through many difficult trials—from the devastating loss of a child to the gauntlet of Alzheimer’s. Yet, she remained strong. It wasn’t in her nature to give up, no matter how difficult the challenge or risky the outcome. She loved an adventure.
Not to say she is the only person who ever told me I’m wrong, but she is the only person who would always tell me when I’m wrong or making a mistake. She was honest, hardworking, and had more character and personal integrity than anyone I’ve ever known. Her love, though quiet and somewhat reserved, was always there for me. It never faltered.
Over the years, Mom and I sometimes didn’t “get along.” Maybe because we were so much alike—I can be as stubborn and determined as she could—that it caused friction. We didn’t talk a lot, finding it difficult to chit-chat. Small talk wasn’t part of our pattern. Scrabble was our thing. We could get into deep conversations over a Scrabble board. We both enjoyed prowling through junk shops and the trips to them always got us talking as well. I learned more about Mom while playing Scrabble and driving to places where we could poke around dust covered bits and pieces than I would’ve dreamed possible. I cherish every game we played and every junk hunt we made.
Mom left us slowly, day by day. She lived with my sister for many years and for that I am truly grateful. I don’t know how she managed, day in and day out, watching Mom fade away, but I know I couldn’t have coped. It was hard enough to see just when I visited. Thank you my dear sister, for all that you did to take care of Mom, for keeping her safe, for making her life better.
It’s been about three years since I last posted on this blog. It’s been a little over two years since my mom died after a long battle with Alzheimer’s. Just did’t feel like talking.
A new family member …
Katie is a little over one year old, has yellow and white fur, and is smarter than I am (not much of a stretch really). She was a pound kitty and practically feral when I got her and I spent the first few months trying to entice her off a dining room chair. Now, she’s so lovey-dovey she’ll even sit in my lap and let me pet her—for about a minute.
She’s worse than a dog about following me around the house, however, and is very vocal when she thinks it’s time to refill her kibble bowl or clean her box. She really hates a messy litter box and since I hate cleaning it, she’s becoming something of a nag. Cute, but a nag nonetheless. She likes a lot of attention so I’m thinking about getting a puppy to keep her occupied so I can read, or nap, uninterrupted.
We’ll see how it goes.
A new house …
I moved to a new house a little over a year ago. I’d been at the condo/townhouse for about 15 years and wanted to have a yard again. Not sure why that was so important to me since I don’t like mowing and am not particularly fond of weeding either, but I do like looking out the window and seeing grass and trees instead of a parking lot or a swimming pool full of screaming kids.
And, I really was getting awfully fed up with the HOA police patrol always finding fault with my patio or fence or carport. I mean did those folks have nothing better to do than walk around the complex to see who’d sat a pot of flowers on their carport?
A new gig …
I recently retired and now have time to think about stuff and can get back to blogging. Well, it’s either that or cleaning house. I hate cleaning house. It’s right up there with going to the dentist or waiting for car repairs.
See, I’m getting back into the swing of this already.