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past the halfway mark
Mar. 20th, 2022 08:27 pmI've now spent a majority of the days I planned on spending in Florida.
I have yet to experience a truly bad day with Mom. Maybe my sisters really did break her in for me. Maybe it's the drugs that were a condition of her admission into rehab. Maybe it's time. Maybe it's because I'm still the favorite. Gift horses. She's been better to me than she often was on the phone. And let it continue for me and for my sisters. I must say, though, that Mom's starting to get inquisitive about what happens next. I'll leave it to Good Sister to deliver news Mom probably won't like next month.
I had a brief freakout this morning when I found one of Mom's hearing aids on the night stand this morning, and I couldn't find the other one. Providence sent a physical therapist, giving me an opportunity to search the bed and find the other hearing aid. Moral: Don't leave those things in Mom's ears when I bug out for the day. I thought I was being considerate to everyone else around her, but I guess that can't happen.
Today I learned: While using a walker, one must stand up straight and step into the box described by the feet of the walker. Mom's been pretty resistant to walkers in the past, but I'm hoping that resistance broke along with her hip.
Yesterday I got gussied up and went downtown for ramen, followed by hanging out in Gainesville's only gay bar, the University Club. Gainesville is a college town in a warm, humid climate. You know what that means: lots of younger women running around not wearing much. I'm OK with that, to say the least. It's even more OK when they chat with you, however briefly. In the actual UC I met adorably square, politically active gay dads and I saw, across the bar, a dude in a peach polo shirt and a puppy hood. Oh, Gainesville.
There's a small contingent of twilight walkers in my mom's neighborhood that I appear to have joined. On such a walk a few minutes ago, I spotted a tricked-out black F-150 pickup parked on my mom's street. I would have assumed it to be another Southern standard douchebro vehicle were it not for original Pride and trans Pride stickers on the back windshield. Not everything and everyone in my hometown is terrible.
I keep having to insert the word "mom's" above. Yes, this neighborhood and this street used to be mine, but they're not anymore. I wonder if I know anyone else is this whole subdivision anymore.
I have yet to experience a truly bad day with Mom. Maybe my sisters really did break her in for me. Maybe it's the drugs that were a condition of her admission into rehab. Maybe it's time. Maybe it's because I'm still the favorite. Gift horses. She's been better to me than she often was on the phone. And let it continue for me and for my sisters. I must say, though, that Mom's starting to get inquisitive about what happens next. I'll leave it to Good Sister to deliver news Mom probably won't like next month.
I had a brief freakout this morning when I found one of Mom's hearing aids on the night stand this morning, and I couldn't find the other one. Providence sent a physical therapist, giving me an opportunity to search the bed and find the other hearing aid. Moral: Don't leave those things in Mom's ears when I bug out for the day. I thought I was being considerate to everyone else around her, but I guess that can't happen.
Today I learned: While using a walker, one must stand up straight and step into the box described by the feet of the walker. Mom's been pretty resistant to walkers in the past, but I'm hoping that resistance broke along with her hip.
Yesterday I got gussied up and went downtown for ramen, followed by hanging out in Gainesville's only gay bar, the University Club. Gainesville is a college town in a warm, humid climate. You know what that means: lots of younger women running around not wearing much. I'm OK with that, to say the least. It's even more OK when they chat with you, however briefly. In the actual UC I met adorably square, politically active gay dads and I saw, across the bar, a dude in a peach polo shirt and a puppy hood. Oh, Gainesville.
There's a small contingent of twilight walkers in my mom's neighborhood that I appear to have joined. On such a walk a few minutes ago, I spotted a tricked-out black F-150 pickup parked on my mom's street. I would have assumed it to be another Southern standard douchebro vehicle were it not for original Pride and trans Pride stickers on the back windshield. Not everything and everyone in my hometown is terrible.
I keep having to insert the word "mom's" above. Yes, this neighborhood and this street used to be mine, but they're not anymore. I wonder if I know anyone else is this whole subdivision anymore.
