Dad started feeling some pain last night, new stuff on top of the old stuff. Fortunately he has an appt this morning (they just left, thus my ability to post), and maybe they can figure out the source and do something. I have my suspicions, but am trying to remain circumspect about the nature of Dad’s physical problems. They left at 10 after 7, for an 8 appointment, because Mom is driving. It would take me, or Bro. Scott, or Dad less than 15 minutes to get there, but Mom takes ‘shortcuts’, back roads through alleyways and any possible path that would keep her from encountering another car, and so it indeed does take 45 minutes instead of 15. Dad is more patient than I am, but then he has been married to her for 45 years and all.
Mom dislikes riding with me. She behaves as tho I am deliberately trying to cause greivous bodily harm in the most painful way possible. I was about to back out of a parking place and a car came up behind me. She hissed and screeched and carried on and I remained in the parking place and blessed her out for acting like that. “I do that in everyone’s car, I don’t like riding in cars” she quavered. “You don’t do it with Dad and it’s a safe bet you don’t do it with your friends or else they’d never drive you anywhere. Get over it.” And, wouldn’tcha know it, she hasn’t done it since. This happened on the first day I was here, last week. It helps to get her engaged in a conversation, so her mind is busy. *sigh* Moms.
I may have to stay on another day. It depends on what the Dr says, and if Mom (as I told Sweet Daddio) gets all hand-flappy on me.Thing is, Dad is pretty much taking care of himself. If he gets hungry, he gets himself a jello cup out of the fridge, or some applesauce. He has a stack of movies to watch, since SD introduced him to the joy of Netflix, and a pile of model airplanes (1:78 size, World War 2 bombers and fighters, including my favorite, the P-38), so there’s plenty for him to do, once he feels up to it. Right now all he wants to do is sleep and watch movies. He is essentially tending to himself nicely. I think Mom can handle him. I don’t want to stay another day.
I want to be home, with my children and husband. I want to sleep in my blissfully comfortable bed, with SD’s hand in the small of my back. I am feeling undersexed. I want to see the litter of kittens taking over the house, and eat my own food. Lorda’ mercy, I want to eat my own food. Mom has this phenomenal talent for taking a small plate of food and stretching it over 3 or 4 days. She finds the most inappropriate way of preparing something, and uses it to fix enough food for 10 people, then we eat it, for days. Boiled sweet potatoes. Gawd. “Well, potatoes are good boiled, and sweet potatoes are a type of potato so they must be good boiled as well.” *sigh*
a platter of chicken fried steak, nicely seasoned, with peppery cream gravy and a buttermilk biscuit. A side order of italian green beans cooked with a nubbin of smoked pork. A tall glass of lightly sweetened iced tea, with a pitcher for refills.
homemade spaghetti sauce, heavy on the garlic and basil, with italian sausage crumbled in, and a generous splash (or two) of red wine. A plate full of pasta, with sauce, and an (almost) unreasonable amount of parmesan cheese on top. Garlic toast made from those cheap loaves of french bread you get at the deli. A glass of chianti, and maybe even a small tiramisu.
Nothing gourmet, really, I just want it made the way *I* make it. Mom didn’t want me doing any of the cooking while I was here, since Dad couldn’t eat it (special diet for a while), and she was happier with a lettuce leaf and 2 mandarin orange slices. I think I lost a little weight, but at what cost? Dieting isn’t for me, folks.
So, I should know hopefully in a couple of hours if I’ll remain here, the dutiful daughter (who keeps dropping hints about how I’d sure like to have the boxed set of “Monarch of the Glen”), or have a 4 hour drive (BTW, SD, I have enough cash to buy lunch at Lanes, if the timing is right) ahead of me. Either way, I am looking forward to seeing home. I don’t think I’d ever be one of these folks who can take a 6 week trip somewhere.