In the news this week:
A caregiver supposedly killed his father who was afflicted with Alzheimer. Allegedly threw him in the ocean because "he stunk". The man had been a caregiver for some 8 years or more. The father refused bathing (we all know about that one).
My heart goes out to that man.
I read right now he is on house arrest till his trial comes up.
I do think we have to truly start thinking about incidents like these. He is not the first and will not be the last.
I know I came close to just flipping out in several occasions, I had the fortitude to know it was coming and talked to my support group who either came over or talked me into some
state of sanity.
It happens folks, I do not care how much you love the person you care for, there are moments when you tell yourself that you can't do one more chore, one more minute with someone following you, one more item to worry about.
Often after years you have drained your resources on medicine and help, you no longer are the same person.
The sick one is but a body floating about. You lose him/her, you no longer have conversations which make sense.
You no longer can leave the house without someone to take your place. If you are lucky and can afford day care then it is a reprieve for some hours. You try then to think of what "normal" was and try to catch some of this before he/she comes home again.
Vacations are out. Nice restaurants with him/her can be
somewhat an embarrassing situation, the table manners are gone. Trips for your charge to the bathroom can be a challenge , especially if there are 2 doors.
They get lost even in small places, you better be there.
There are so many daily activities which change with every down hill the illness takes away.
It isw never going to get better.
You might think that today Margaret knew you, you love to know that to be true. You see a glimmer in his eyes and you tell yourself "He knows me!". You are still finding hope no matter what you truly know deep inside.
I am told that the research money for Alzheimer is a minimal amount when you compare it to Cancer yet every so many seconds, I think I read 7, someone in this country is being told that they have Alzheimer.
Baby boomers are growing older and guess what? If you have money to invest built day cares and long term care places, we are surely going to need them.
Baby boomers would also be wise to buy a reliable long term care insurance. I could not get it 12 years ago because my husband had prostate cancer so they refused him.
Who has 4 to 7000 a month to pay for this service when you are no longer able. ?
Back to the poor fellow who it is said killed his father, I am so feeling for him. I am so hoping that he does not go to jail.
I am sorry but some bargaining must be able to come to the table. I doubt very seriously that he was in a sane frame of mind.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
paintings
These souvenirs I found at my friends house in Mass.
My husband is the artist.
He leaves us so many nice memories with the works he did.
trip photos
I am just now getting to some photos from my trip up north.
Friend Lee is 80!!!!She looks 60!!!
Monday, November 9, 2009
true doctor story
Went to the VA hospital.
3 hours before his number was taken care off.
The VA gets you with :"your last four" that is YOU.
An elderly gent came into our waiting room and my patience already at zero - I am thinking: another one before us?
Turns out that he faces Bob and said:Hello I am Dr.......
Say what?
My head is spinning. This is the doctor, he is my husband's age. He does sort of fall against the door jam, dizzy? drunk? what is the problem? I am not very confident on following him with my husband and translator -I have bad ears- daughter.
We tell Mr. Dr. with a lot of experience -maybe_? That our best friend here is often in a hitting mode, especially when bathing is required. We need calming medicine.
The chart come up on the computer screen.
Yup the right number, right last fours.
List of medicine he is taking.
Ask me what they are for, I confuse one with the other so I am honestly telling him that I do not remember which is which.
He gets out of his pocket a mini book with alphabetical listed medicine. Oh! There it is that one is for his B P.
Ok having checked all of the meds.
He tells me via Sabrina that he is prescribing halo------
it should calm him down. Used all the time for Alz.
So we walk out glad to be in the fall fresh air amids falling leaves. Bob does not have a clue why he was there and what this was all about. He tells every one that he is from Santa Cruz.
Well, he did balk, he did not want his temp taken. The nurse could not take his BP. BUT when Dr. M. said we needed some blood work ....then we panicked.
Mr.Bob walked into the lab station and said he was from Santa Cruz, the pretty girl said she was from Monterey and he did not even balk one second when they had to try 2 stabs at finding the right vein. He was Mr Charm.
I sat outside,I was so exhausted and did not want to see him being mean to the nurses. Maybe it helped that I was not there. Sabrina said he was an angel for the needles but then
taking his B P got him angry, go figure.
Once home I ran to the computer to check the meds.
OK I read it was invented in 1957 by t Belgian, that rang well, I thought with some pride.
The last sentence made me sleepless for the next night.
The FDA does NOT approve of this medicine fr A patients.
Hello!!!!!!
Furthermore the article said there have been deaths in this group.
Gave him one pill as prescribed and watched every 10 minutes to see if he was alive.
He turned out to be a sweetheart in the next 2 days.
I even washed him and cut his hair. Not A PEEP out of him. ! Oh how I liked that. No fist fight no water fight.
Sabrina called a pharmacist and asked about the pills.
Unless there is a problem with his heart or asthma there is no problem at all, said the man on the phone.
Prescribed all over the globe for Alzheimer.
Good old drug!
OK so we can hope for some rest in the getting feisty dept.
3 hours before his number was taken care off.
The VA gets you with :"your last four" that is YOU.
An elderly gent came into our waiting room and my patience already at zero - I am thinking: another one before us?
Turns out that he faces Bob and said:Hello I am Dr.......
Say what?
My head is spinning. This is the doctor, he is my husband's age. He does sort of fall against the door jam, dizzy? drunk? what is the problem? I am not very confident on following him with my husband and translator -I have bad ears- daughter.
We tell Mr. Dr. with a lot of experience -maybe_? That our best friend here is often in a hitting mode, especially when bathing is required. We need calming medicine.
The chart come up on the computer screen.
Yup the right number, right last fours.
List of medicine he is taking.
Ask me what they are for, I confuse one with the other so I am honestly telling him that I do not remember which is which.
He gets out of his pocket a mini book with alphabetical listed medicine. Oh! There it is that one is for his B P.
Ok having checked all of the meds.
He tells me via Sabrina that he is prescribing halo------
it should calm him down. Used all the time for Alz.
So we walk out glad to be in the fall fresh air amids falling leaves. Bob does not have a clue why he was there and what this was all about. He tells every one that he is from Santa Cruz.
Well, he did balk, he did not want his temp taken. The nurse could not take his BP. BUT when Dr. M. said we needed some blood work ....then we panicked.
Mr.Bob walked into the lab station and said he was from Santa Cruz, the pretty girl said she was from Monterey and he did not even balk one second when they had to try 2 stabs at finding the right vein. He was Mr Charm.
I sat outside,I was so exhausted and did not want to see him being mean to the nurses. Maybe it helped that I was not there. Sabrina said he was an angel for the needles but then
taking his B P got him angry, go figure.
Once home I ran to the computer to check the meds.
OK I read it was invented in 1957 by t Belgian, that rang well, I thought with some pride.
The last sentence made me sleepless for the next night.
The FDA does NOT approve of this medicine fr A patients.
Hello!!!!!!
Furthermore the article said there have been deaths in this group.
Gave him one pill as prescribed and watched every 10 minutes to see if he was alive.
He turned out to be a sweetheart in the next 2 days.
I even washed him and cut his hair. Not A PEEP out of him. ! Oh how I liked that. No fist fight no water fight.
Sabrina called a pharmacist and asked about the pills.
Unless there is a problem with his heart or asthma there is no problem at all, said the man on the phone.
Prescribed all over the globe for Alzheimer.
Good old drug!
OK so we can hope for some rest in the getting feisty dept.
What d o you know for sure
Ellen de G. said in Oprah mag.:
It's our challenges and obstacles that give us layers of depth and make us interesting. Are they fun when they happen? No. But they are what make us unique. And that's what I know for sure…I think.
That gave me some thought this morning and I wondered what I know for sure.....here is what I came up with:
I know for sure that there is nothing anymore that I know for sure. Absolutely nothing.
Ten years ago I would have given you a long list now the
"for sure" are "maybe's" or " whatever".
It's our challenges and obstacles that give us layers of depth and make us interesting. Are they fun when they happen? No. But they are what make us unique. And that's what I know for sure…I think.
That gave me some thought this morning and I wondered what I know for sure.....here is what I came up with:
I know for sure that there is nothing anymore that I know for sure. Absolutely nothing.
Ten years ago I would have given you a long list now the
"for sure" are "maybe's" or " whatever".
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Caregivers week
this email I sent my kids and grandkids for Caregivers week:
This week is caregivers week.
I want to say thank you to all of you, my children, my grandkids, my in laws.
Everyone of you has been a caregiver in one way or the other for dad.
The little ones had to learn how to deal with this new person, had their feelings hurt at times,
did not get the hugs like before. The adults had to say the long goodbye and be there to
keep mom on her toes and in good frame of mind (if that is possible).
The many trips to the grocery stores, doctors, vets, hair dressers, luncheons, castles, gardens,
would not have been possible at all without you guys.
It is all in the package of caregiving, you guys always try to make it wrapped up in velvet ribbons.
I thank you, every single one of you for this journey is a hard one for us and the unity
of this family is among the best I have seen when I compare my peers.
This week is caregivers week.
I want to say thank you to all of you, my children, my grandkids, my in laws.
Everyone of you has been a caregiver in one way or the other for dad.
The little ones had to learn how to deal with this new person, had their feelings hurt at times,
did not get the hugs like before. The adults had to say the long goodbye and be there to
keep mom on her toes and in good frame of mind (if that is possible).
The many trips to the grocery stores, doctors, vets, hair dressers, luncheons, castles, gardens,
would not have been possible at all without you guys.
It is all in the package of caregiving, you guys always try to make it wrapped up in velvet ribbons.
I thank you, every single one of you for this journey is a hard one for us and the unity
of this family is among the best I have seen when I compare my peers.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
good news and bad news
The good news is actually GREAT , end of this month and all of December renovations will start on my old house.
New roof and new heating system (with a/c wow) for beginners. The furnace is totally ancient and the pipes replaced last week are completely filled with ancient rust, do not know how the water gets through them at all.
So out with the old boiler and in new electric pump with a/c.
Hoping to get old Bob out of the house as soon as the workmen come is another job to tackle. He can't handle visitors. Not with grace anyway.
Bad news is temporary but I must be out of patience, I have some canker sores visiting my mouth and I am miserable.
A fat lip to boot and no I do not resemble Angelina even with that new look.
I have hardly been able to eat so weight watchers will be proud of me. But that is not the way to diet that I enjoy at all.
I can't believe that I am acting like a baby, these damn things make me very uncomfortable.
So train my thoughts to the coming renovations and help that this old house needs.
New roof and new heating system (with a/c wow) for beginners. The furnace is totally ancient and the pipes replaced last week are completely filled with ancient rust, do not know how the water gets through them at all.
So out with the old boiler and in new electric pump with a/c.
Hoping to get old Bob out of the house as soon as the workmen come is another job to tackle. He can't handle visitors. Not with grace anyway.
Bad news is temporary but I must be out of patience, I have some canker sores visiting my mouth and I am miserable.
A fat lip to boot and no I do not resemble Angelina even with that new look.
I have hardly been able to eat so weight watchers will be proud of me. But that is not the way to diet that I enjoy at all.
I can't believe that I am acting like a baby, these damn things make me very uncomfortable.
So train my thoughts to the coming renovations and help that this old house needs.
Friday, October 30, 2009
MINI VACATION
I was afraid to write in this blog as my BFF reads it.
I was invited to celebrate her 80th birthday in the Berkshires in Mass. It was to be a surprise. Our two daughters made all the arrangements and when that was done THEN they told me that I HAD to go.
If I had been asked I would have said "impossible" but daughter Sabrina arranged it all with Sabra my BFF's daughter. So here I was finding myself in cars and in airplanes and in the North.
Old Dad was with Sabrina for the long week end.
We surprised my friend in a restaurant.
She was shocked and near tears when she saw me.
She did not know that a brunch was going to be offered the next day at her son's mini mansion in the mountains.
The whole family was to be there, all kids and grandkids.
So that too turned out to be a big surprise for her as it was
still 1 week before the actual birthday date.
I was enchanted by it all. I was relaxed. Most of all I slept without waking up to check on things. I slept like a rock.
A glass of wine probably helped.
Everything was fun and food. My favorites.
Lucky I only gained one pound. So back to W W it is.
I figured out that during this visit there was another life.
People meet, people eat together, people laugh.
People have to repeat for my hard of hearing or hearing loss but they did not seem to mind.
My kids sometimes roll their eyes when they have to repeat something for the third time. I remember doing that to my mother who probably gave me this inheritance. But what the hay. I am still walking and cooking and doing whatever I can to keep it all together.
Outside this house , outside this village, outside this state, outside just plain outside with other people there is life, there will be life after Alzheimer if Bob goes first.
If I go first then what? Hey I am not coming back to tell you about it. No doubt relief from worries. Relief in either scenario. Relief.
How did the old Bob behave, the talks about it are somewhat sketchy. No one wants to say that he was difficult, no one wants to admit to much of anything. Whatever.
I slept, I talked till all hours in the night with a friend I had known for 53 years. Perhaps we will never make it again to visit together but this was just grand.
The New England villages have not changed since I travelled there 40 years ago. They are quaint, no high rises, no Mc D's, no Walmarts , lots of antique stores and lots of charming houses. Many of them kept by New Yorkers who like to visit the Berkshires on the week end.
You got to love it. You got to admire the city counsel who keep things the way they were and do not try to make it more profitable with more commerce. Farms are still farms, not builders filled bank accounts. Wish we would do this in our town but the apple orchards are filling up with houses and what a shame that is.
Loved my outing. The first in many years that I left my husband to someone else to take care off. Wow!
He did not seem any worse off. Did not know I was gone, I am sure.
Must try that again, perhaps in the spring.
I was invited to celebrate her 80th birthday in the Berkshires in Mass. It was to be a surprise. Our two daughters made all the arrangements and when that was done THEN they told me that I HAD to go.
If I had been asked I would have said "impossible" but daughter Sabrina arranged it all with Sabra my BFF's daughter. So here I was finding myself in cars and in airplanes and in the North.
Old Dad was with Sabrina for the long week end.
We surprised my friend in a restaurant.
She was shocked and near tears when she saw me.
She did not know that a brunch was going to be offered the next day at her son's mini mansion in the mountains.
The whole family was to be there, all kids and grandkids.
So that too turned out to be a big surprise for her as it was
still 1 week before the actual birthday date.
I was enchanted by it all. I was relaxed. Most of all I slept without waking up to check on things. I slept like a rock.
A glass of wine probably helped.
Everything was fun and food. My favorites.
Lucky I only gained one pound. So back to W W it is.
I figured out that during this visit there was another life.
People meet, people eat together, people laugh.
People have to repeat for my hard of hearing or hearing loss but they did not seem to mind.
My kids sometimes roll their eyes when they have to repeat something for the third time. I remember doing that to my mother who probably gave me this inheritance. But what the hay. I am still walking and cooking and doing whatever I can to keep it all together.
Outside this house , outside this village, outside this state, outside just plain outside with other people there is life, there will be life after Alzheimer if Bob goes first.
If I go first then what? Hey I am not coming back to tell you about it. No doubt relief from worries. Relief in either scenario. Relief.
How did the old Bob behave, the talks about it are somewhat sketchy. No one wants to say that he was difficult, no one wants to admit to much of anything. Whatever.
I slept, I talked till all hours in the night with a friend I had known for 53 years. Perhaps we will never make it again to visit together but this was just grand.
The New England villages have not changed since I travelled there 40 years ago. They are quaint, no high rises, no Mc D's, no Walmarts , lots of antique stores and lots of charming houses. Many of them kept by New Yorkers who like to visit the Berkshires on the week end.
You got to love it. You got to admire the city counsel who keep things the way they were and do not try to make it more profitable with more commerce. Farms are still farms, not builders filled bank accounts. Wish we would do this in our town but the apple orchards are filling up with houses and what a shame that is.
Loved my outing. The first in many years that I left my husband to someone else to take care off. Wow!
He did not seem any worse off. Did not know I was gone, I am sure.
Must try that again, perhaps in the spring.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Fresh sheets
I have inherited from my mother that one never has enough sheets and towels. Just in case, she would tell me, you are sick and you need extra linens.
So, I have lots of sheets. Not only that but I LOVE to sleep in fresh sheets. Loved it more when we were drying them outside many moons ago and they had that fresh outdoor smell.
When Jackie O married Onassis she had in her contract that
even if she took a mid day nap, she insisted on having her bed made up again with fresh sheets. So she had it made as far as I was concerned. Fresh sheets all the time!!!Yummy!
Now be cautious about what you ask for, you heard that before.
I now have fresh sheets on the bed every day.
Regardless of what brand diaper underwear I buy for my husband, they always leak. I have my routine after I make my coffee and send him to the daycare that I change the bedding and start a wash load.
Do I bitch and moan when I make up the queen size bed every day, you bet I do but come evening and I slide into the fresh sheets it is pure heaven.
Jackie O you had the right idea.
Would I do it just for my sole pleasure? Never! Too much work.
So, I have lots of sheets. Not only that but I LOVE to sleep in fresh sheets. Loved it more when we were drying them outside many moons ago and they had that fresh outdoor smell.
When Jackie O married Onassis she had in her contract that
even if she took a mid day nap, she insisted on having her bed made up again with fresh sheets. So she had it made as far as I was concerned. Fresh sheets all the time!!!Yummy!
Now be cautious about what you ask for, you heard that before.
I now have fresh sheets on the bed every day.
Regardless of what brand diaper underwear I buy for my husband, they always leak. I have my routine after I make my coffee and send him to the daycare that I change the bedding and start a wash load.
Do I bitch and moan when I make up the queen size bed every day, you bet I do but come evening and I slide into the fresh sheets it is pure heaven.
Jackie O you had the right idea.
Would I do it just for my sole pleasure? Never! Too much work.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
So the storm hAS STARTED AFTER A CALM SEA
If you have been following my blog then you know that I call it like it is.
No B S, no sugar coating, no embellishments , no lies.
This week was the week of horror for me.
Surprise, surprise. I have read and read book and book about Alzheimer/dementia.
I know all the different stages, I can write a book up until now stage 6 going 7.
I have the sweetest, kind husband you could find. He would put a bug outside before he would step on it. So when the “books” told me that a lot of them turn violent , I figured that this would never happen to him. How could anyone imagine that.
Last Sunday when I tried to bathe him, which is always an unpleasant task, he started to fight with me and slapped me on the side of the face , full force.
I could not hear from several hours.
I was stunned, completely stunned.
He then managed to repeat the same with our son.
This -now- very slight man barely 120 lbs had the force of a young lad.
Where did that come from?
What was I thinking? Never Never Never in my house?
Think again.
Next evening he started to push me around, hit my arms full force when I
Wanted to change his clothing.
I spent the rest of the week in enormous anger.
I could barely think straight.
I was not sure anymore if I could continue this.
Called the VA several times but his dr. (a new one again) does not call back.
I need more calming medication. Serequil (sp?) was recommended by someone
Who has help with it but on the internet there are several negatives on this.
No B S, no sugar coating, no embellishments , no lies.
This week was the week of horror for me.
Surprise, surprise. I have read and read book and book about Alzheimer/dementia.
I know all the different stages, I can write a book up until now stage 6 going 7.
I have the sweetest, kind husband you could find. He would put a bug outside before he would step on it. So when the “books” told me that a lot of them turn violent , I figured that this would never happen to him. How could anyone imagine that.
Last Sunday when I tried to bathe him, which is always an unpleasant task, he started to fight with me and slapped me on the side of the face , full force.
I could not hear from several hours.
I was stunned, completely stunned.
He then managed to repeat the same with our son.
This -now- very slight man barely 120 lbs had the force of a young lad.
Where did that come from?
What was I thinking? Never Never Never in my house?
Think again.
Next evening he started to push me around, hit my arms full force when I
Wanted to change his clothing.
I spent the rest of the week in enormous anger.
I could barely think straight.
I was not sure anymore if I could continue this.
Called the VA several times but his dr. (a new one again) does not call back.
I need more calming medication. Serequil (sp?) was recommended by someone
Who has help with it but on the internet there are several negatives on this.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
It is now fall and when sunny it is fabulous. Leaves are falling, trees are turning yellow and soon the maples will start being red. As we were walking and kicking the leaves I was thinking about Buscaglia, he wrote in one of his books that he invited his friends for a leaf party. Everyone thought they would be put to work to remove his piles. Instead they had a surprise, he had brought the leaves INSIDE his living room and everyone was to have fun in them. Throw them around, dance in them whatever. Just enjoy !Inever tried it but there are times that I am considering this but afraid someone would put a straight jacket on me and take me to a place I do not wish to be.
The three of us walk every evening. Old Bob, Old Mom, and young Bijou - read Maltese pup.
It is quite a scene. Not exactly a Normal Rockwell photo , Bijou is pulling, he wants to be 10 feet further than I am, old Bob is behind. So I am in the middle with both arms stretched out. One in front and one in the back.
Bob shuffles, even with my bad hearing I can hear the shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. I try and correct my walk and bring my legs and feet up high, I am not going to shuffle!!! Instead I am beginning to look like in training for the Roquettes.
When Bijou decides he is at the right spot to do his business then the shuffle comes near and there is a surprise on Bob's face " we stopped for what?" I point but somehow it does not register so now he is up front and I have to try and hold on to him until Bijou decides to finish.
Bob forgets what street to take to return home so he is adamant and stops by a driveway and points. Bijou looks at him and wonders why we would go there. A kitty there perhaps? That would be great.
I tell them both that our street is another block.
Yeah like they understand the word "block".
We get home and both my friends run for drinks.
Dad opens the fridge and see what is there and wet.
Bijou does a job on the water bowl and of course i will have to take him out before too long to get rid of the new volume of water.
The threesome will then go out again, the shuffle will start into the leaves and my arms will get a stretch work out.
The three of us walk every evening. Old Bob, Old Mom, and young Bijou - read Maltese pup.
It is quite a scene. Not exactly a Normal Rockwell photo , Bijou is pulling, he wants to be 10 feet further than I am, old Bob is behind. So I am in the middle with both arms stretched out. One in front and one in the back.
Bob shuffles, even with my bad hearing I can hear the shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. I try and correct my walk and bring my legs and feet up high, I am not going to shuffle!!! Instead I am beginning to look like in training for the Roquettes.
When Bijou decides he is at the right spot to do his business then the shuffle comes near and there is a surprise on Bob's face " we stopped for what?" I point but somehow it does not register so now he is up front and I have to try and hold on to him until Bijou decides to finish.
Bob forgets what street to take to return home so he is adamant and stops by a driveway and points. Bijou looks at him and wonders why we would go there. A kitty there perhaps? That would be great.
I tell them both that our street is another block.
Yeah like they understand the word "block".
We get home and both my friends run for drinks.
Dad opens the fridge and see what is there and wet.
Bijou does a job on the water bowl and of course i will have to take him out before too long to get rid of the new volume of water.
The threesome will then go out again, the shuffle will start into the leaves and my arms will get a stretch work out.
Friday, September 25, 2009
A SPIDER AT WORK
Last night son showed me a spider at work.
She/he (I am not un on my spiders) started a huge web right under the porch light. The web was about 2 feet or more in diameter. The precision of the work was just so interesting to watch that I stood there for a good 15 minutes.
How smart to put it right under the light where the bugs will come into the night.
Enter old Bob into the room and watches the spider at work, immediately he wanted"out" to kill it.
It took forever to try and explain that it was ok for it to work.
We are not going outside anymore tonight. Let the spider work. Say what? Of course this is not sinking in. Why
do I always think that it should sink in. How many more years before I figure it out that the man has Alzheimer and does not remember.
We locked the door and kept the key so the spider will have dinner during the night and we may have a few moths less.
She/he (I am not un on my spiders) started a huge web right under the porch light. The web was about 2 feet or more in diameter. The precision of the work was just so interesting to watch that I stood there for a good 15 minutes.
How smart to put it right under the light where the bugs will come into the night.
Enter old Bob into the room and watches the spider at work, immediately he wanted"out" to kill it.
It took forever to try and explain that it was ok for it to work.
We are not going outside anymore tonight. Let the spider work. Say what? Of course this is not sinking in. Why
do I always think that it should sink in. How many more years before I figure it out that the man has Alzheimer and does not remember.
We locked the door and kept the key so the spider will have dinner during the night and we may have a few moths less.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
To bathe or not to bathe
Last night, a nightmare. He does not want me to bathe him.
No way, not a chance. I just sponge bathe him at this point but he struggled so with me, he scratched me, and pushed and shoved and today my shoulder is not working properly and it hurts like the dickens.
I swallowed my pride and asked the day care people- they are equipped to bathe and do so - I think the cost is 15.00- anyway I asked if they could do it today and sent him off with his fresh clothing.
They , the experts, tried twice and no dice. Not going to do it no way, no how.
Voila.
Back to the drawing board.
Meanwhile I am not going to try it today as I am exhausted and hurting.
Then therewas the medicine, refused to take medicine too.
Son go a bit in his face and a fist came out from old dad but when he took a good look at son's size he relaxed the fist very fast and agreed to take the pill.
Just saw "House" so I made sure he did swallow it, he is not as smart as Dr House.
Good night all.
No way, not a chance. I just sponge bathe him at this point but he struggled so with me, he scratched me, and pushed and shoved and today my shoulder is not working properly and it hurts like the dickens.
I swallowed my pride and asked the day care people- they are equipped to bathe and do so - I think the cost is 15.00- anyway I asked if they could do it today and sent him off with his fresh clothing.
They , the experts, tried twice and no dice. Not going to do it no way, no how.
Voila.
Back to the drawing board.
Meanwhile I am not going to try it today as I am exhausted and hurting.
Then therewas the medicine, refused to take medicine too.
Son go a bit in his face and a fist came out from old dad but when he took a good look at son's size he relaxed the fist very fast and agreed to take the pill.
Just saw "House" so I made sure he did swallow it, he is not as smart as Dr House.
Good night all.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
LIFE IS ....................
Life is precious. You hear this over and over again when there is an issue about abortion. I am not going there, I am going with the thought that life is precious when you are suffering for 12 years. When your memory fails you day after day, more and more. First it is the little things.
Oh! Did I take my meds today? Did I miss an appointment with the hairdresser? Did I call you today?
then it goes on to : you are stealing from me. Everything in this house is mine, mine, mine.
That usually follows by items just disappearing from their usual place. Could be your toothbrush, you rings, a can of tomatoes, all the toilet paper you bought yesterday.
After the years, the look in the eyes looks blank. Who is this person? Who are you? What is this place?
Then there is the wet diapers, the wet bed, chairs, and the poop which goes into the waste paper basket, not the toilet. Some stuff towels, soap, anything into the toilet, others do not remember what the toilet is for.
The plumber knows you by your first name and knows the guilty one too. He smiles at him/her, this is regular business for him.
The opening and closing doors, all day long. The fridge does not have time to cool off. Forget the freezer working well.
The locks are being broken. The umbrellas are looking like a modern art piece. Everything mechanical needs to go with force. Reaction to actions does not exist anymore.
Dogs and cats get fed tons of milk. That is what most elderly did when they were young.
Try and shave someone who does not want you to touch him.
Try and shower or wash someone who decided water was his/her enemy.
Is that life still precious?
What do they really know???What are the thoughts during the day and the running around till 4 am lost in your own home. What are the thoughts?
I have no answers for any of this.
But I do question it.
On line one lady having a bad day wrote :
They shoot dogs when they become that ill.
I dread the day when this human being who no longer is my husband will leave me. I am attached to him like a magnet but I do believe when he will leave us that I will be relieved.
This is no longer a precious life for him. It just can't be.
Oh! Did I take my meds today? Did I miss an appointment with the hairdresser? Did I call you today?
then it goes on to : you are stealing from me. Everything in this house is mine, mine, mine.
That usually follows by items just disappearing from their usual place. Could be your toothbrush, you rings, a can of tomatoes, all the toilet paper you bought yesterday.
After the years, the look in the eyes looks blank. Who is this person? Who are you? What is this place?
Then there is the wet diapers, the wet bed, chairs, and the poop which goes into the waste paper basket, not the toilet. Some stuff towels, soap, anything into the toilet, others do not remember what the toilet is for.
The plumber knows you by your first name and knows the guilty one too. He smiles at him/her, this is regular business for him.
The opening and closing doors, all day long. The fridge does not have time to cool off. Forget the freezer working well.
The locks are being broken. The umbrellas are looking like a modern art piece. Everything mechanical needs to go with force. Reaction to actions does not exist anymore.
Dogs and cats get fed tons of milk. That is what most elderly did when they were young.
Try and shave someone who does not want you to touch him.
Try and shower or wash someone who decided water was his/her enemy.
Is that life still precious?
What do they really know???What are the thoughts during the day and the running around till 4 am lost in your own home. What are the thoughts?
I have no answers for any of this.
But I do question it.
On line one lady having a bad day wrote :
They shoot dogs when they become that ill.
I dread the day when this human being who no longer is my husband will leave me. I am attached to him like a magnet but I do believe when he will leave us that I will be relieved.
This is no longer a precious life for him. It just can't be.
WRITE IT DOWN
Most of my childhood was spent in a very small village in the middle of the Flanders.
That is if you can call one street with one shop and one bar “a village”.
My house was standing all alone next to an electric factory.
I was an only child and a lonely child.
My parents were not into making merry or to bring a lot of joy into the household.
They were strict, especially my mother. The also did not get along most of the time
A war added to that mix made life a challenge.
It was very early in life that I started to write my feelings. I would get pieces of paper wherever I could and write and then tear it up for I did not want my mother to find out how I felt.
I remember after my father left us that I often wrote that I missed him. I do not think I missed him that much but I knew that my mother did not hit me as much when my father was around. He did not like the hitting part of her discipline.
He kept telling her not to hit my head. I felt he was somewhat my protector of her bad days. Her bad days turned into anger to the only one around - me.
So from then on I wrote, and wrote. My maternal grandmother told us that whenever she had the blues she would write them down and then destroy the evidence. I had not heard that before but was glad to hear that story for it fit with my feelings.
At 14 I wrote a short love story. Since I never had been kissed and my boyfriends were only in my imagination , I just do not remember what kind of love story I had in me. I sent it out one day to “libelle” a ladies magazine and I included a letter telling them that I did not want to be paid but wanted to read my story in their venue. I did not let them know who I was.
For weeks I searched in the magazine as my Mom was getting them from a friend. To my big surprise they did not print my story.
That did not stop me. I wrote and wrote whenever I could wherever I could.
I was blessed and did not know it. I am not saying that I am a good writer, I am saying that it is a blessing to be able to share your feelings on paper.
It is a release valve for all your feelings. Good or bad.
So in this site geared for Alzheimer caregivers I can only advise you to try and write down how you feel. Just let it all hang out. Do not cover the dusty corners of your mind , just go there and everywhere and just write it. You do not have to blog for the world to see , just write it. Destroy it afterwards if you wish or read it over many times so you will then see where you were at such and such a time.
I am surely blessed to be able to write almost every day.
When I am having one of my mini depressions then it is hard to do but often if I get to it then the depression takes a second row.
Write, just write. No one will check if you can spell , no one will question your vocabulary, write for yourself.
That is if you can call one street with one shop and one bar “a village”.
My house was standing all alone next to an electric factory.
I was an only child and a lonely child.
My parents were not into making merry or to bring a lot of joy into the household.
They were strict, especially my mother. The also did not get along most of the time
A war added to that mix made life a challenge.
It was very early in life that I started to write my feelings. I would get pieces of paper wherever I could and write and then tear it up for I did not want my mother to find out how I felt.
I remember after my father left us that I often wrote that I missed him. I do not think I missed him that much but I knew that my mother did not hit me as much when my father was around. He did not like the hitting part of her discipline.
He kept telling her not to hit my head. I felt he was somewhat my protector of her bad days. Her bad days turned into anger to the only one around - me.
So from then on I wrote, and wrote. My maternal grandmother told us that whenever she had the blues she would write them down and then destroy the evidence. I had not heard that before but was glad to hear that story for it fit with my feelings.
At 14 I wrote a short love story. Since I never had been kissed and my boyfriends were only in my imagination , I just do not remember what kind of love story I had in me. I sent it out one day to “libelle” a ladies magazine and I included a letter telling them that I did not want to be paid but wanted to read my story in their venue. I did not let them know who I was.
For weeks I searched in the magazine as my Mom was getting them from a friend. To my big surprise they did not print my story.
That did not stop me. I wrote and wrote whenever I could wherever I could.
I was blessed and did not know it. I am not saying that I am a good writer, I am saying that it is a blessing to be able to share your feelings on paper.
It is a release valve for all your feelings. Good or bad.
So in this site geared for Alzheimer caregivers I can only advise you to try and write down how you feel. Just let it all hang out. Do not cover the dusty corners of your mind , just go there and everywhere and just write it. You do not have to blog for the world to see , just write it. Destroy it afterwards if you wish or read it over many times so you will then see where you were at such and such a time.
I am surely blessed to be able to write almost every day.
When I am having one of my mini depressions then it is hard to do but often if I get to it then the depression takes a second row.
Write, just write. No one will check if you can spell , no one will question your vocabulary, write for yourself.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Love letter
A few years ago I wrote this letter to my husband.
At that time he had a vague idea of what I wrote, today he would not be able to understand any of it.
It is important during this journey to tell them what you feel and what their lives did for you.
It is important, believe me.
Here is my letter and I have to say that I found it in a very "safe" place of his.
If I count every stage in our life by quarters then we are in our winter.
I’d prefer to say that we are in our autumn but what the heck,
I just stepped into winter. You, my dear, are a little bit ahead of me.
You wanted to be a Gemini and wanted to be born the same year as the
Queen of England. How grand was that!
You entered in our summer and indeed what a summer it turned out
to be!!!The long hot summer with all the riches of a blooming love affair,
a few thunderstorms, and most of all travel.
My spring is rather a season I like to forget. The ideal childhood , it was not to be.
The ideal first marriage way before I stepped into summer and that too
was rather a time to forget.
You, my best friend, came into my life in a California “antique mall” , probably the first in California. I use the word “antique” loosely as it was more a mall
with mini shops full of “what have you’s”.
You had the best, the creme de la creme. You had REAL antiques. In those
California days everything had to be 100 years old before we called it an antique.
You also had some of the finest art on your walls which I thought were
printed reproductions. You were offended, it was your original work.
I said : what the heck are you doing in this place with such art?
With all my suggestions you curled up your nose. No, you did not want to
show at the bank. No, you did not want to show in small town Santa Cruz.
You had just come from San Francisco, thank you very much. You had
shows in the best galleries.
You had fled from the hippies as you lived, heavens no!!On the corner
of Haight and Hasbury . In a large Victorian flat you had freedom, the
city ,a job here and there and lots of ice cream which became meals.
But when this long haired crowd slept in your doorway and their dogs
decorated all of Haight street , it was a bit much for this “square” to take in.
Bohemian you had not turned into. Even so you were a frequent visitor to
the Purple Onion, (Yes , Streisand was there when no one knew her)
and you were invited to all the wild ballet and artists parties.
You rubbed elbows with Gregory Peck and only knew it when you saw
your picture next to him at a later date. Of course the wine did help
with memory losses.
You had a girlfriend for awhile but she was twice your age and had a son
your age who was a cop. It was a short lived fling with too much wine,
or so you told me much later.
So you had moved back to your home town, Santa Cruz.
That old town had a gorgeous boardwalk decorated by a nice Pier, lovely white sand and a great tourist attraction.
Your youth had been there with 7 siblings and a great laid back mother.
Your father had been a house painter with a great reputation but he had
asthma and his work would bring on attack after attack.
Riches you guys never had but there was camaraderie with the kids.
By WW2 Florence had 4 stars in her window indicating that she had
4 sons in the war. They all came back but brother Earl was badly damaged
in his mental state. He had lived and fought in the worst battles of the Pacific
including the Marauders. He took to drinking to forget. He was a lost soul after
that war.
You, being the youngest of the boys went in on your 18th birthday.
You were a few weeks short of graduating in High School.
You had dreams of becoming an artist but you did not know how
you would accomplish that.
The war helped because there was a GI Bill and with that you could go
on to college in Salinas and to the Chouinard Art Institute.
During your art school years you learned about architecture, costumes (Edith Head was one of your teachers) , animation, life drawing and commercial.
You wanted to be come an animation artist for Disney. You were totally charmed
with Snow White and Fantasia. You also learned about Opera and became a
fan.
So after you finished in Chouinard you went to the city by the Golden Gate and
hoped to make it with your paintings. Disney was not paying enough to your liking.
You made friends very quickly in the art circles and in the ballet circles and
worked intermittently in a mattress factory and in the shipping department at
Macy’s.
You acquired a new taste, you knew what a Louis XV table should look like
and you acquired one, you bought old paintings and traded yours for them
or other chores. Once you babysat two dogs for an old painting.
In the mid 1950’s you scrimped and saved to go to Europe. You went with
a friend to London, Amsterdam and Madrid. You visited all the opera houses
in each city and even sat in a command performance in Amsterdam when
the Queen came with King Salassi . Queen Wilhemina looked like a diamond mine she had her tiara on plus pins and necklaces etc....you and Russell sat
in jeans as your luggage had not yet arrived from the boat. It is a wonder that
they did not throw you out.
You saw the diva Maria Callas in Medea in Rome and you were enchanted.
I do not know how many times I had to hear about La Callas.
She received one of your paintings as a gift from a well known tenor
and his name escapes me now. He bought it in Marbella , Spain.
So by the time I got to know you, you were a bit of snob.
I did not even like you at first.
You were not tall and dark haired. You were not a big flirt.
You did not dance. You did not like the Beatles nor Elvis and
could not stand Liberace. I heard about all these opera singers and
I thought that this man was just a bit off my scale.
I liked the tall dark and handsome , rogues.
I would fall for the worst of the worst. I had poor taste in
what would be a steady guy.
We were friends for months as I was going through my divorce.
Neither of us had a hint of what was happening.
We had our shop next to each other in the mall and business was not exactly thriving. We had plenty of time to talk about our past lives.
Neither one of us knew what a future life would be like.
I was scared not to make it with my 2 girls, my mother wanted me back
in Belgium and dangled a home for all 3 of us in front of my nose.
I did not bite!
A recession was starting and the Viet Nam war started to make the pot
broil in America. I just did not have time to worry about that, I had
2 girls and drugs started to come into the San Lorenzo Valley where I lived.
One week end you went to the big city to see “Louise”. I figured that
you had a girlfriend there which you did not mention before and suddenly
I decided that I did not like that. I was a bit jealous.
Upon your return I asked about Louise and you said that the opera
was just fabulous! An Opera named “Louise” I asked?
Yup that is what he went to see.
The knees can stop shaking now!!!!!
When I came back from the court house after filing for my divorce on the
final note you took me behind the clothes rack and kissed me.
Wow! You told me then that you did not want to upset anything and be in
a three some situation. You wanted to be sure I was finished with
my marriage.
I had suffered for 7 years now with arthritis, my feet often were so swollen that all I could wear were flip flops. My hands did not have bones anymore, all you saw was swelling. There came a time in our courtship that I also could not move my
arms in an upward motion. You decided you would move in with the girls and
I and take care of me.
You probably had more to do than you bargained for.
It was not a sexual relationship by any stretch as I was in so much pain.
All sorts of remedies were given to me.
One in particular was to take a very hot bath, drain it and then a very very cold bath and back again to hot. By the time we did all this I was like a limp rag doll
and you had to carry me to bed.
I could no longer brush the girls long hair, I could not lift the coffee pot,
and the steps to the house were pure torture.
Ironing was out of the question so you did it all.
You put the braids in the girls hair and ironed their dresses before school.
You did not drive so you walked to the grocery store and did our meals.
Not the best meals but I was helped to the max.
Your best dish was soup, unfortunately we had to eat it with a fork and knife.
You moved in and changed my life.
People say that we can’t change but I sure did.
Afraid of my own shadow, believing I was not worth to be anything in this world.
I had tried suicide and only got very sick.
Now I had this man watching over me like a hawk and giving me all
the love a person needs to come out of this self fabricated shell.
That was not all that changed, in that former life I had been very happy
with my Goodwill furniture. Couches with wagon wheels for armrests
and Sears braided rugs. Lamps made from old cacti and crochet doilies.
Enter Bob Kensinger with his 19th Century paintings plus his own.
Oriental rugs filled the 20 foot living room , the Louis XV table and
a collection of mint in box 50 or more complete operas.
All soon to meet with 2 anxious girls and scratchy needles on the RCA
console.
Ivory statues lined my shelves , Sanwhich glass , satin glass , and
candle holders of all types came into view and were put on display.
I had little to say about it all. Kensinger was decorating.
My friend April kept asking me if he was gay.
The teaching of Jeannot had begun.
This is an etching, this is a monochromatic, this is a wood cut, this is
a reproduction (curl up your nose or throw up!) this is a watercolor, this is a tempera, this is out of drawing, this is a hack this is a genius.
This glass was made in the 18th century, this glass has lead in it
this glass from England has gold in it. This pattern is the horn of plenty do not confuse it with the peacock pattern.
This is Vienese not to be confused with Venetian.
My head was spinning.
However by 1968 a very young man with dreams of making it big (he did)
bought an old building in Boulder Creek and opened a REAL ANTIQUE
Mall. We opened up our first shop together. You had several shops in San Francisco
but this was my first antique adventure.
It was a real challenge to learn all the art glass and patterned glass so
collectable in those days. Ruth Webb Lee’s book was my bible.
I learned the patterns, I studied the patterns in sterling and
coin silver. The girls learned about sterling and would pick out all
the pieces at flea market sales.
The woman with Sears rugs had blossomed into a snob just like Bob.
Ouch!!!Oriental rugs are still my favorites. In the winter of my years
I do have pains when I sell a piece of art glass.
I can’t believe that I have purchased repros at Steinmart.
But then I also can’t believe that I have done all this learning from
just one person.
You , my life partner, made me see The Last Super by Dali in
Washington, observe the fabulous windows at the Cathedral in Rhemes.
Walk around Rubens house in Antwerp and feel the spirit of this great Flemish painter. You made me SEE the Adoration of the Lamb God in my
home town after I had seen it so many times before.
You made it so that I knew a Cannoletti as we walked to our room
in Venice and saw them lined up on the wall.
You thaught me that to you a wrinkled beggar woman in Rome was more beautiful
than all the Gina’s walking around us.
We were laying down in the Sistine Chapel looking at the wonders
of Michaelangelo. Can’t do that anymore, now you need tickets and a time
given for your visit.
In our last years together and with your memory fading you are still
teaching me every day.
You sit by the window and call me to show me a pattern in the clouds.
We walk the dog and you stop to show me a tree and its formation.
You show me a flower I had missed.
You show me every day that you love me and this life has been
the best summer and winter.
I love you for all that and regret that we did not meet in the
spring of our years.
All my love
At that time he had a vague idea of what I wrote, today he would not be able to understand any of it.
It is important during this journey to tell them what you feel and what their lives did for you.
It is important, believe me.
Here is my letter and I have to say that I found it in a very "safe" place of his.
If I count every stage in our life by quarters then we are in our winter.
I’d prefer to say that we are in our autumn but what the heck,
I just stepped into winter. You, my dear, are a little bit ahead of me.
You wanted to be a Gemini and wanted to be born the same year as the
Queen of England. How grand was that!
You entered in our summer and indeed what a summer it turned out
to be!!!The long hot summer with all the riches of a blooming love affair,
a few thunderstorms, and most of all travel.
My spring is rather a season I like to forget. The ideal childhood , it was not to be.
The ideal first marriage way before I stepped into summer and that too
was rather a time to forget.
You, my best friend, came into my life in a California “antique mall” , probably the first in California. I use the word “antique” loosely as it was more a mall
with mini shops full of “what have you’s”.
You had the best, the creme de la creme. You had REAL antiques. In those
California days everything had to be 100 years old before we called it an antique.
You also had some of the finest art on your walls which I thought were
printed reproductions. You were offended, it was your original work.
I said : what the heck are you doing in this place with such art?
With all my suggestions you curled up your nose. No, you did not want to
show at the bank. No, you did not want to show in small town Santa Cruz.
You had just come from San Francisco, thank you very much. You had
shows in the best galleries.
You had fled from the hippies as you lived, heavens no!!On the corner
of Haight and Hasbury . In a large Victorian flat you had freedom, the
city ,a job here and there and lots of ice cream which became meals.
But when this long haired crowd slept in your doorway and their dogs
decorated all of Haight street , it was a bit much for this “square” to take in.
Bohemian you had not turned into. Even so you were a frequent visitor to
the Purple Onion, (Yes , Streisand was there when no one knew her)
and you were invited to all the wild ballet and artists parties.
You rubbed elbows with Gregory Peck and only knew it when you saw
your picture next to him at a later date. Of course the wine did help
with memory losses.
You had a girlfriend for awhile but she was twice your age and had a son
your age who was a cop. It was a short lived fling with too much wine,
or so you told me much later.
So you had moved back to your home town, Santa Cruz.
That old town had a gorgeous boardwalk decorated by a nice Pier, lovely white sand and a great tourist attraction.
Your youth had been there with 7 siblings and a great laid back mother.
Your father had been a house painter with a great reputation but he had
asthma and his work would bring on attack after attack.
Riches you guys never had but there was camaraderie with the kids.
By WW2 Florence had 4 stars in her window indicating that she had
4 sons in the war. They all came back but brother Earl was badly damaged
in his mental state. He had lived and fought in the worst battles of the Pacific
including the Marauders. He took to drinking to forget. He was a lost soul after
that war.
You, being the youngest of the boys went in on your 18th birthday.
You were a few weeks short of graduating in High School.
You had dreams of becoming an artist but you did not know how
you would accomplish that.
The war helped because there was a GI Bill and with that you could go
on to college in Salinas and to the Chouinard Art Institute.
During your art school years you learned about architecture, costumes (Edith Head was one of your teachers) , animation, life drawing and commercial.
You wanted to be come an animation artist for Disney. You were totally charmed
with Snow White and Fantasia. You also learned about Opera and became a
fan.
So after you finished in Chouinard you went to the city by the Golden Gate and
hoped to make it with your paintings. Disney was not paying enough to your liking.
You made friends very quickly in the art circles and in the ballet circles and
worked intermittently in a mattress factory and in the shipping department at
Macy’s.
You acquired a new taste, you knew what a Louis XV table should look like
and you acquired one, you bought old paintings and traded yours for them
or other chores. Once you babysat two dogs for an old painting.
In the mid 1950’s you scrimped and saved to go to Europe. You went with
a friend to London, Amsterdam and Madrid. You visited all the opera houses
in each city and even sat in a command performance in Amsterdam when
the Queen came with King Salassi . Queen Wilhemina looked like a diamond mine she had her tiara on plus pins and necklaces etc....you and Russell sat
in jeans as your luggage had not yet arrived from the boat. It is a wonder that
they did not throw you out.
You saw the diva Maria Callas in Medea in Rome and you were enchanted.
I do not know how many times I had to hear about La Callas.
She received one of your paintings as a gift from a well known tenor
and his name escapes me now. He bought it in Marbella , Spain.
So by the time I got to know you, you were a bit of snob.
I did not even like you at first.
You were not tall and dark haired. You were not a big flirt.
You did not dance. You did not like the Beatles nor Elvis and
could not stand Liberace. I heard about all these opera singers and
I thought that this man was just a bit off my scale.
I liked the tall dark and handsome , rogues.
I would fall for the worst of the worst. I had poor taste in
what would be a steady guy.
We were friends for months as I was going through my divorce.
Neither of us had a hint of what was happening.
We had our shop next to each other in the mall and business was not exactly thriving. We had plenty of time to talk about our past lives.
Neither one of us knew what a future life would be like.
I was scared not to make it with my 2 girls, my mother wanted me back
in Belgium and dangled a home for all 3 of us in front of my nose.
I did not bite!
A recession was starting and the Viet Nam war started to make the pot
broil in America. I just did not have time to worry about that, I had
2 girls and drugs started to come into the San Lorenzo Valley where I lived.
One week end you went to the big city to see “Louise”. I figured that
you had a girlfriend there which you did not mention before and suddenly
I decided that I did not like that. I was a bit jealous.
Upon your return I asked about Louise and you said that the opera
was just fabulous! An Opera named “Louise” I asked?
Yup that is what he went to see.
The knees can stop shaking now!!!!!
When I came back from the court house after filing for my divorce on the
final note you took me behind the clothes rack and kissed me.
Wow! You told me then that you did not want to upset anything and be in
a three some situation. You wanted to be sure I was finished with
my marriage.
I had suffered for 7 years now with arthritis, my feet often were so swollen that all I could wear were flip flops. My hands did not have bones anymore, all you saw was swelling. There came a time in our courtship that I also could not move my
arms in an upward motion. You decided you would move in with the girls and
I and take care of me.
You probably had more to do than you bargained for.
It was not a sexual relationship by any stretch as I was in so much pain.
All sorts of remedies were given to me.
One in particular was to take a very hot bath, drain it and then a very very cold bath and back again to hot. By the time we did all this I was like a limp rag doll
and you had to carry me to bed.
I could no longer brush the girls long hair, I could not lift the coffee pot,
and the steps to the house were pure torture.
Ironing was out of the question so you did it all.
You put the braids in the girls hair and ironed their dresses before school.
You did not drive so you walked to the grocery store and did our meals.
Not the best meals but I was helped to the max.
Your best dish was soup, unfortunately we had to eat it with a fork and knife.
You moved in and changed my life.
People say that we can’t change but I sure did.
Afraid of my own shadow, believing I was not worth to be anything in this world.
I had tried suicide and only got very sick.
Now I had this man watching over me like a hawk and giving me all
the love a person needs to come out of this self fabricated shell.
That was not all that changed, in that former life I had been very happy
with my Goodwill furniture. Couches with wagon wheels for armrests
and Sears braided rugs. Lamps made from old cacti and crochet doilies.
Enter Bob Kensinger with his 19th Century paintings plus his own.
Oriental rugs filled the 20 foot living room , the Louis XV table and
a collection of mint in box 50 or more complete operas.
All soon to meet with 2 anxious girls and scratchy needles on the RCA
console.
Ivory statues lined my shelves , Sanwhich glass , satin glass , and
candle holders of all types came into view and were put on display.
I had little to say about it all. Kensinger was decorating.
My friend April kept asking me if he was gay.
The teaching of Jeannot had begun.
This is an etching, this is a monochromatic, this is a wood cut, this is
a reproduction (curl up your nose or throw up!) this is a watercolor, this is a tempera, this is out of drawing, this is a hack this is a genius.
This glass was made in the 18th century, this glass has lead in it
this glass from England has gold in it. This pattern is the horn of plenty do not confuse it with the peacock pattern.
This is Vienese not to be confused with Venetian.
My head was spinning.
However by 1968 a very young man with dreams of making it big (he did)
bought an old building in Boulder Creek and opened a REAL ANTIQUE
Mall. We opened up our first shop together. You had several shops in San Francisco
but this was my first antique adventure.
It was a real challenge to learn all the art glass and patterned glass so
collectable in those days. Ruth Webb Lee’s book was my bible.
I learned the patterns, I studied the patterns in sterling and
coin silver. The girls learned about sterling and would pick out all
the pieces at flea market sales.
The woman with Sears rugs had blossomed into a snob just like Bob.
Ouch!!!Oriental rugs are still my favorites. In the winter of my years
I do have pains when I sell a piece of art glass.
I can’t believe that I have purchased repros at Steinmart.
But then I also can’t believe that I have done all this learning from
just one person.
You , my life partner, made me see The Last Super by Dali in
Washington, observe the fabulous windows at the Cathedral in Rhemes.
Walk around Rubens house in Antwerp and feel the spirit of this great Flemish painter. You made me SEE the Adoration of the Lamb God in my
home town after I had seen it so many times before.
You made it so that I knew a Cannoletti as we walked to our room
in Venice and saw them lined up on the wall.
You thaught me that to you a wrinkled beggar woman in Rome was more beautiful
than all the Gina’s walking around us.
We were laying down in the Sistine Chapel looking at the wonders
of Michaelangelo. Can’t do that anymore, now you need tickets and a time
given for your visit.
In our last years together and with your memory fading you are still
teaching me every day.
You sit by the window and call me to show me a pattern in the clouds.
We walk the dog and you stop to show me a tree and its formation.
You show me a flower I had missed.
You show me every day that you love me and this life has been
the best summer and winter.
I love you for all that and regret that we did not meet in the
spring of our years.
All my love
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Day after the big "high"
If I did not have enough attention yesterday then I sure did today, all my friends or far away acquaintances want a copy of the book. I feel terrible. I keep telling them it is only 1 story and not my best one but most people who know me want me to write my memoirs and so they feel this is going to give me a push. It will. I have part of it already done.
It is good day. Not only that I found better diaper pants, that is important too. Perhaps less laundry for me and my eyes will not become slanted like the Chinese laundry lady.
Oops! that is probably profiling. Got to be so cautious these days not to do a faux pas.
It is good day. Not only that I found better diaper pants, that is important too. Perhaps less laundry for me and my eyes will not become slanted like the Chinese laundry lady.
Oops! that is probably profiling. Got to be so cautious these days not to do a faux pas.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Good day in the land of writers
Some 35 writers, some with many books under their belt, all came together today for cookies and refreshments of all sorts and to brag about their latest writings and achievements.
I was surprised to find out many asked me for signature on their book. We all gave a story about some type of clothing.
And a book from all the stories was compiled and edited by Celia Miles and Nancy Dillingham.
My story was about my holy communion in Belgium in 1942. The drama surrounding that war day was somewhat surreal.
My father did not want to have anything to do with church so that part was difficult for a child reared most the waking hours by nuns.
I brought the dress to the gathering and my sainted aunts's works were admired. Most of it was handsewn and the rest on a threadle sewing machine.
Several people wanted me to sign my story and it was a high for awhile. Celia insists that I have to continue my memoirs as I have been quite busy with them but have yet many years to cover.
Book name is Clothes Lines.
All the writers are from North Carolina.
here some photos from the event, at one point we tried to see how tall I was at age 10 next to my grandson,Peter, who is now ten.
Friday, September 11, 2009
LAZY? DEPRESSED? WHATEVER!
I have been extremely lazy the past weeks.
I can't get my act together, I can just sit and the next thing I know I fall asleep.
Weather does not help, it has been overcast for days with now and then a shower but no sun.
I decided to get a small radio and listen to that for awhile. Then I turn on NPR and get too involved in politics when I hear That Palin is being named Esther. Checked out "the land of Queen Esther". OK so you can have religious beliefs and accept all that comes with it but one lady said that the map of Alaska is in the shape of a crown so therefore they are correct Palin is the Esther of the Bible.
OK......I am just going to get more upset and I do not need that , get back to the music.
This morning was a bad one with his majesty, he just hates anything cold. Do they make heated baby wipes?
By the time I put him on the bus I told the driver:
"Robert, do me a favor, please do not bring him back!"
Everyone roared with laughter (not I ) even old Bob thought it very funny. He knew I was p od.
At least tomorrow will be a better day (in part)
he has to stay home with young Bob.
I have an important meeting.
Aha! I do.
My story about my holy communion dress is now forever published in a book by the name of "Clothes lines".
75 ladies shared stories regarding clothing and mine brought me back to 1942 in Belgium.
Had a lot of stories in newspapers but not in "book print" that I can remember.
We, the writers, are meeting tomorrow and that should be a blast. I still have the dress , now 67 years old.
I had moved over the Atlantic twice in my life, back and forth and then moved from the East Coast to the West and then on to the South and the dress was always with me.
Now at age 77 I find this very strange, something inside of me truly must be attached to the day and the ceremony even so I have left the Catholic church ages ago.
So today I will try and change my mood swing into more joyful tunes. I will try and I know no one will keep old Bob, he will come home and moments will be great and some will be bad and c'est la vie with Alzheimer.
I can't get my act together, I can just sit and the next thing I know I fall asleep.
Weather does not help, it has been overcast for days with now and then a shower but no sun.
I decided to get a small radio and listen to that for awhile. Then I turn on NPR and get too involved in politics when I hear That Palin is being named Esther. Checked out "the land of Queen Esther". OK so you can have religious beliefs and accept all that comes with it but one lady said that the map of Alaska is in the shape of a crown so therefore they are correct Palin is the Esther of the Bible.
OK......I am just going to get more upset and I do not need that , get back to the music.
This morning was a bad one with his majesty, he just hates anything cold. Do they make heated baby wipes?
By the time I put him on the bus I told the driver:
"Robert, do me a favor, please do not bring him back!"
Everyone roared with laughter (not I ) even old Bob thought it very funny. He knew I was p od.
At least tomorrow will be a better day (in part)
he has to stay home with young Bob.
I have an important meeting.
Aha! I do.
My story about my holy communion dress is now forever published in a book by the name of "Clothes lines".
75 ladies shared stories regarding clothing and mine brought me back to 1942 in Belgium.
Had a lot of stories in newspapers but not in "book print" that I can remember.
We, the writers, are meeting tomorrow and that should be a blast. I still have the dress , now 67 years old.
I had moved over the Atlantic twice in my life, back and forth and then moved from the East Coast to the West and then on to the South and the dress was always with me.
Now at age 77 I find this very strange, something inside of me truly must be attached to the day and the ceremony even so I have left the Catholic church ages ago.
So today I will try and change my mood swing into more joyful tunes. I will try and I know no one will keep old Bob, he will come home and moments will be great and some will be bad and c'est la vie with Alzheimer.
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