Profound??

Pondering deeply? Not quite. But of course that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to be. I simply need to get my focus back -- focus for writing.

I was such a prolific writer in my 30's...makes me wonder what it would've been like for me if blogging was available then. But, that was then and this is now. Profound? Hardly.

For the past 4 weeks, I've been using our little 2 year old Gateway netbook to access the internet -- not sure yet whether I like the keyboard or not. It also explains why I haven't been too social lately. Guess I'm like a lot of other people, wanting things simple and convenient, or not much happens. Of course, I'm assuming I know how a lot of other people are. I could be dead wrong. Yes, me. Profound? There are those who think I may have just qualified myself. (haha)

My mother left to stay with my brother 6 days ago...she'll be back in 4. Her third day away found us at the ER with my mother-in-law (who also lives with my husband and myself). She had fainted. They never figured out exactly why, but we learned she had a good case of the flu. She's 72.

Other than that, nothing very interesting has been happening in my life lately. Our car is running fine. Our 3 dogs are fine...considering what it is to have 3. The house is hunky-dory. My decluttering plan is going...well...progressing as I had about expected.   Everything is actually quite fine.

I have to admit, life is pretty much the same it's been for awhile -- that is, considering all things to be considered.

(Sounds like one of those wonderfully profound remarks from the movie The Matrix -- doesn't it? Well...doesn't it????)

Okay,...so I definitely need help. I admit it. Now that is  deeply profound ;~)

Want to Write But... (continued)

Nearly a week since the bulb count was just over 150 and all of them looking for their blankets. Are you wondering if they're freezing and alone? Alone, yes. Freezing? Almost. Still in paper bags. You see, it snowed. And then... it snowed again. And then? Well, Mom needed to get packed to go to my bachelor brother's home for 10 days to visit (yaay!). That means time off from my mom-care-giving and moving on to bulb-care-giving.

The next day, a phone call from my brother. Then, the day after that: a road trip 45 miles south to his house. Why? Oh... we told ourselves that it was to watch back-to-back football games on his slightly larger TV and have "NY style pizza," but it was actually because Mom forgot to pack what she called,  "something absolutely critical."  It was her deodorant. Seriously. That's okay. Brother said he'd get it at the store. But... there was one other thing... her special Avon dusting powder! Okay. She'll just have to go without, we agreed. But... yes, another "but" (and this is really the biggest one of them all)... she wanted to know if there was any way her latest audio books could be forwarded to her, since they hadn't arrived yet before she left. They had been ordered in time from the Library Services for the Blind, but there was no mail delivery the day before. So, she had packed three older ones having told me those would be fine. But, we were all very aware that listening to her books is the only activity that keeps her happy (when not talking or eating)... and, believe me, I wanted to keep her happy while she's with my brother. So, my husband and I made the trip down there to watch football and eat pizza... oh yeah, and as long as we were going anyway, we brought her books (all 12 of them), and her powder AND even her deodorant. We all agreed not to let her know that I was coming. It worked. She nearly cried.

It was quite dark when we arrived home, so I was thinking, "that's okay, tomorrow's a nice enough day for tending to bulbs." Monday comes, and so does - you guessed it - more snow. Go figure. I can hardly believe that the weathermen (all of them) were wrong. But, no matter. I actually do have a plan, and it doesn't even involve causing a massive heat wave to thaw out the ground. There just happens to be a large quantity of undesignated topsoil still sitting in my driveway from this last July. Uh, did I say "topsoil?" Actually, it's nearly half sand mixed with dairy manure, affectionately referred to as "Colorado topsoil." I wouldn't want someone to get the idea it's that wonderfully rich black soil found back in the Midwest - the kind of soil I thought I was getting when I ordered it. (sigh) But the good news is, after much internet research, I discovered that this mix would actually work as the perfect medium for bulbs to "sleep in" till February gets here. How about that! I only need to shovel it into these large plastic bins we have in the garage, then submerge the bulbs. All 150+ of them. Maybe even before Mom comes home.

My Mother is Like a Pack of Cigarettes (sigh...and I don't even smoke anymore!)

I'm an in-my-own-home caregiver for my nearly 85 year old mother. She is blind (but insists on still wearing glasses... go figure), has very poor hearing (but won't wear hearing aids... naturally), has one replacement knee and the other not working too well (because of a cyst that she won't have removed), one hip's been replaced and the other's always stiffening up (because of how much time she stays in bed), and numerous stomach/digestive pains (but not possibly related to her daily consumption of peanut butter cheese crackers, chocolates and sugar wafers).

I haven't even mentioned the 5 medications she takes (some over 15 years) for high blood pressure, arrhythmia, aortic stenosis, shortness of breath, water retention and low thyroid. She also manages to do just enough of her own personal care so as to not qualify for Medicaid, but not quite enough for me to work a career outside the home. Caught in the cracks... sort of.

Like a pack of cigarettes (to a smoker): needful, but when you wish they weren't, that's when they seem to be the most.

Oh yeah, and she's always telling me how she wasn't supposed to live past the age of 75, saying, "if there's no quality of life, there's no purpose anymore."

Like a pack of cigarettes (to a former-smoker): when you see them lying around, you wonder why they're still there. Not that I look at her that way - oh, no - that's how she sees herself, for God's sake!