Excuse Me Ma'am - Your Slip Is Showing

Oh wait.....No, it isn't. That's because you aren't wearing a slip. And I ask you dear madam, Why aren't you wearing a slip? What's that you say? Wal-Mart no longer carries slips? Why that simply is impossible. Do they not consider themselves the EVERYTHING place. My goodness, you can get your oil changed, your eyes checked, your nails buffed AND your picture made while waiting on the Photo department to process your film or digital imagery. Then you can leisurely stroll over to the grocery aisle while your dear husband checks out the .22 rifles in the sporting goods department. After that you might want to make a trip down the meaningless gesture aisle because surely someone has a birthday, anniversary, bar mitzvah and is dying for one of those Hot Sauce combo packs. Therefore, you must be mistaken. What's that you say? "The "associate" in the lingerie/sock department said that Wal-Mart hasn't carried slips in about 3 years!"
My stars and garters! Literally!
This morning for the 3rd time in maybe that many years, I opted to wear a dress to church. I usually go for the 2 piece suit type look as my body has not retained a shape conducive to attractive wearing of a dress. This particular dress really needed a slip under it. I realize that because over the course of the past decade I have been the self appointed "underwear" police in my area. Working for a photography studio - I saw it all. I saw girls who wore panties that should have rethought their choice. Here's a little hint gals.....thongs don't always look good under an iridescent while clingy dress - especially when said thong is royal blue. I have seen girls who opted to not wear a bra - AND SHOULD HAVE. I've seen girls who wore a bra - nice white straps with block and tackle buckles under a strapless gown. And I've seen grown women walk into a business in a nice light chiffony little summer dress. With the light shining behind them, I became far more familiar with them than I cared to.
So, I'm a little anal when it comes to proper undergarmenting (spell check says that is not a word it recognizes) TOO BAD - I recognize it.
On the way to church we stopped at the closest Wal-Mart - I ran in while the hubs circled the parking lot like an anxious lover waiting to pick up his date on a Saturday night. Carefully, I perused the foundation department. Panties - check, pantyhose - check, bras - check, check and triple check, press it down and move it up garments - check. But no slips. No full slips, no half slips. Nothing, nada, zero, zip. Running out of time I found an "associate" and inquired where I might lay my hands on a slip and was informed that indeed they no longer carry slips.
Now I was in a pickle. It was too late to return home and change, nothing else was open and I wasn't even wearing my long coat.
So, today, I went to church with no slip and was paranoid the entire day that someone else would know I had no slip. I guess I will have to do some research into why the slip has "slipped" away into oblivion. But, listen girls, if you have slips, hang on to them - they will be collector's items someday. Perhaps I will see one of you on the Antiques Roadshow being offered a million bucks for your underwear.

Forget About It!

My memory has always been something to be proud of. I also was prideful of my ability to multi-task in even the most difficult situations. Why, I am that woman who can balance her checkbook waiting on a red light, mop the floor while bouncing a baby on one hip, listen to 3 conversations at once (well provided I can hear them.)**Have I mentioned that I am deaf as a stump?**
Anyway, you get the picture....I am Woman - hear me roar! The Can Do Super Woman for the ages. Able to leap small inchworms in a single bound **I am 60 you know**. And, I could tell you what I was doing, wearing and with who at this exact moment a year ago. In short I was pretty danged sickening.
It didn't help that I was so judgmental of my poor husband who stays so distracted that he can't remember a conversation we had 12 minutes ago. The man that we tell events start a minimum of half an hour earlier just so he can arrive ONLY 15 minutes late. Yes, I will admit it, I was a genuine pain in the butt.
But God (who I am firmly convinced has a highly developed sense of humor) decided to hit me where I lived. Right in the pride.
Since I have dealt with the dementia/Alzheimer's puzzle for a couple of months, my mind automatically goes to a very dark place when I am not as focused as I should be. But I reassure myself with the facts of tired, sinus infection, too much on my mind and struggle on.
The whole trip to Target really started this Forget-a-Thon in motion. I went there for a purpose, forgot why I was there, decided to pick up a few things while already there, paid for them and promptly left without them. There was a time when a cute little teenage boy running after me trying to get my attention in the parking lot would have been a good day. Not so much now. I felt so silly, like those little white haired ladies that forget where they parked at Wal-Mart (oh wait....been there AND done that.)
But perhaps my best Forget-it was yesterday. I spent the entire morning moving furniture out of my living room and vacuuming my carpet in joyful anticipation of carpet cleaners whose ETA was between 12:00 noon and 2:00 PM.
I have dogs so the whole vacuum experience was delightful since I was able to accumulate enough dog hair to build an Alaskan dog sled team. Plus I had Jessie who is a vacuum hater/chaser. Compounding the craziness was Genevieve's dog Charly who turns out to be a vacuum hater/chaser as well. Vacuuming with one hand and rebounding attacking canines I eventually triumphed over the floors.
My husband (creep) remarked once that I had "lovingly" (his word - not mine) cleaned my floors so someone could come and clean my floors. I ask you is this really that hard to understand? Do guys really not get the whole "I don't want people to think I'm a slob" mindset?
Soooooooooooo, by noon I have a living room that is stripped down to the bare essentials, have been to Lowes to buy bulbs for my bathroom light fixture, and checked on paint options for my bathroom cabinets. I'm having a great day thank you very much! And how you doin'?
Back home I perch on my couch to wait for the carpet cleaners. And wait, and wait and wait. 2:00 which is the back end of their agreed upon arrival time rolls around with no big yellow truck at my house. Highly incensed, I march back to my office to get the phone number to give someone a large piece of my mind. While perusing the phone book I notice my desk blotter where I have written the appointment. Not today (Thursday), not tomorrow (Friday), certainly not Saturday or Sunday. But, instead, my carpets are scheduled to be cleaned Monday.
Well isn't that just great - wipe that self satisfied smirk off your face, Roger! To make matters worse, there's no way I can hide this one. All our furniture is crammed in the bedroom and I'm not bringing it back!
So, see what I mean about the sense of humor thing? Shot square in the pride with no place to hide. Oh well, in the words of that other whining, manipulative heroine in literature - "I'll worry about it tomorrow." Maybe I'll even remember to worry about it. Now where did I put my glasses.....I need them to find my phone.

Reading Your Way to Better Mental Health

I've always been an avid reader and my taste in books is long, tall, deep and wide. Over the course of the past two months, I have read a lot. My biggest undertaking was the new Stephen King book which I believe weighed roughly 10 pounds which made it darn near impossible to read in the bathtub. I was afraid I would drop it and it would cause the water level to rise and drown me. I also re-read the entire Twilight series - I'm not sure why but they intrigue me. Perhaps it is my genuine dislike for the heroine in those books that makes me want to read them again. I guess I needed someone to despise. Why do I not like Bella you ask? I find her whiny, needy, selfish and just all around unthoughtful and undeserving of so much blind devotion even if it is from a vampire and a werewolf. I read Koontz's "Breathless" and was once again blown away by his ability to translate his love for animals into a way that makes even the most fantastical of characters come alive for me. I also ripped through 3 books on Alzheimer Disease which were a gift from a good friend and helped me understand that the things I was dealing with were not unique to me. Rather, I was in an army of thousands that fought the same problems, guilt, denial, exhaustion, worry and sadness as I.
All of these books accomplished different things for me. Stirred my imagination, took me away for a while, helped me cope and even simply entertained.
And then, I noticed a book that had been sitting on my bookshelf untouched for at least 2 months. It was a book my daughter handed me one day and said "Mom, you really should read this book, it's really good." As I noticed it sitting there collecting dust I wondered why it hadn't occurred to me to read it before. Interestingly enough, my daughter had mentioned it only once and that was to inquire if I had read it yet.
As I began to read this book, I was swept away by the story that unfolded. A story of loss, heart wrenching sadness and pain. I could identify with this! As I read on, it became clear to me that God was speaking to me in a very real and personal way. There was so much of that book that cleared away a lot of messiness in my life and in my thoughts. I will not give away the storyline for fear of spoiling it for someone else. I will tell you that I highly recommend "The Shack". It isn't a big book and it doesn't take long to read but I will tell you that it is often not an easy read. It makes you think and makes you question and also makes you aware of some truths that you might have dreamed of but never thought possible.
I am firmly convicted that God left that book on my shelf until a time when I most needed to read it. And now, I will give it to you in the same way. You should read this book......let God tell you when.
Oh, and to my Darling Daughter who seemed to realize that the time would come when I would need this message more than any other - thank you from the depths of my heart in which you hold a most important place.
Peace my friends!

What Happens Now?

I've completed the week of my mom's service. Now what? My mom has been in the back of my mind or foremost in my thoughts for so long now I'm a little unfocused. Even before the 2 month long tornado hit, I was always thinking about her. Had she called lately? Did I need to call and check on her? The past 2 months just moved everything else out of my head and made me single minded about her health and well being.
Today I went to the store, made my purchases and wandered off without them. I was a tad undone by the young man racing up behind me calling "Ma'am, Ma'am!" One has to wonder if I would have ever noticed that I did not get home with 2 bags of coffee and a stack of paper plates.
Something that hit home today is how quickly everyone's life returns to normal. There is no more steady procession of crock pots and floral arrangements. The funeral home has stamped finished and paid on your business with them. Kids are back at school, people are back at work and yet you still feel the raw emotion that you felt on the very first day.
My very good friend, Judy calls me everyday to check on me. Would that I could be as good a friend to her as she is to me. My dear friends (and they know who they are) still continue to message and offer prayers of encouragement. And, I still receive condolence cards everyday. Those things have made me realize how important it is to hang with someone who grieves. I hope that in the future I remember that the acknowledgment of concern is still appreciated well after the need for it.
And so, What Happens Now? Life happens now and hopefully I am ready to resume it.

A Good Man

I write today to acknowledge a truly good man. He will never read this and in some ways I find that fitting. The reason he won't read is not because he is gone, it is simply that technology is not something he partakes of. He, like my mom, bemoaned the demise of Analog phone service, he doesn't email or Facebook or any of the other things I find myself so increasingly centered in. He would probably be embarrassed by my words because he never did any of the things I will acknowledge for any reason other than to help.
Ivan was my mother's very special friend. They began keeping company when mom moved to Arkansas. He drove that long drive from Stinnett to Fort Smith usually once a month for the sheer pleasure of being with my mom. It was her great worry over his being on the road so much that played a large part in her returning to Texas a decade ago. They probably didn't see each other much more than they did when she lived here.But, he didn't have as far to travel and that was easier on him and alleviated worry on my mother's part.
Their association was probably exhausting for Ivan. Mom kept him very busy when he visited. And there was no task that he didn't consider himself "up" for. I think she even had him on the roof once. He built things, fixed things, took her places and loved her. I'm sure the love they shared wasn't the mushy, cow eyes and PDA love that most of us would recognize. Their expression of affection was a quick and to the point "Love you" and "Love you too". Period. But that they loved each other I have never doubted.
I often wondered why they never made that step toward being permanently committed to each other. But that independent and fiery spirit that burned in mom, was probably mirrored in Ivan and they both wanted to maintain their own space.
While I was moving my mom's stuff in December in preparation for moving her to Arkansas, Ivan was the rock I leaned on. I would never have been able to do what I did without his help. I told him once we should start our own moving company: OLD FARTS MOVING COMPANY - "we won't get you there fast, but we might die trying."
It was during this difficult month that I came to understand and appreciate what it was about him that my mom treasured. I should backtrack here and confess that I wasn't always as kind to Ivan as I should have been. In fact I resented the hell out of him because of the spot he claimed in my mother. I will always be regretful and embarrassed for those feelings. He didn't deserve my scorn and I am heartily ashamed of myself. Fortunately, I have shared my feelings of shame and remorse with Ivan and he accepted my apology with all the grace a true gentleman possesses.
On the day we left Texas, he drove all the way to Amarillo to say goodbye to mom. Little did I expect that he was saying goodbye for good. I fully expected and intended to drive her to Elk City every so often to meet Ivan as he visited one of his sons. I'm sorry I didn't get to do that for both of them.
I know that as I grieve my mom, Ivan grieves as well. I hope that he can remember the last time he saw mom, with her hair all fixed, dressed in her traveling clothes, smiling and waving from the car as we pulled out of the parking lot. I am so grateful he never had to witness the last month of her life as we spent it. I want him to hold his memory of mom bright and beautiful, just as he always knew her to be.

The Beat Goes On

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life. The day when I had to publicly say goodbye to my mother. My day to day life has pretty much been in a holding pattern for 2 months and I forgot that outside my door the world was still turning.
No matter how sad or sick I feel, the sun keeps coming up, the snow continues to melt, the sky still peeks out with brilliant blue eyes and people continue their usual going and coming.
I've learned a lot of hard lessons in 60 days. I've learned you can't always be the help that you want to be. I've learned that I can lean on someone and not fall flat on my face. I've learned about the genuine goodness of most people and the total unreliability of others.
I've also learned that I will ALWAYS sign an on line guest book even if I barely knew the family involved. I had no idea how much comfort a few words written could mean to an aching heart.
I've learned that even if I have to buy a stick of bologna and a loaf of bread to take to someone's house, I should do it. It isn't the food you bring, it is the gift of your own thoughtfulness that makes a difference.
I've learned that something as small as taking time to attend a service, or send a plant means so much to someone who is hurting over their loss.
In doing these things we make people feel important to us. So, in short I will try to remember that while their world has stopped for a moment, mine does go on and I am called by Christ to give the gift of myself.