Rabbits and books

Did I ever tell you I was writing a book.  I think I've painted enough bunnies and lambs to cover the next few springs. So,  I've decided to focus most of my energy on writing a children's book.  I wrote the first draft of the text about a year ago and then put it on the back burner. Now, it's time to turn the burner on.  The theme of the book is about valuing people even if they are different.  Jerry being the "different" one; but really not so different.   It's entitled "Happy and Pappy and Everything's Fine."   It's about a little boy and his relationship with his Grandpa who has dementia.

I really feel a calling to write and illustrate this book.  Don't know anything about publishing, but I'm hoping to provide insight into the hearts and minds of people with dementia.  Happy, the rambunctious but sensitive little boy, tells about the funny things that his Grandpa does.  Happy, has a few funny antics of his own.  Through it all, we'll find that the relationship is warm and precious.

Stay tuned and wish me luck.

Spring is Here

Spring is here and I’m so glad.  Trips are especially tiring on Jerry.  When we are together, our kids keep him stimulated and amused.  He sometimes tries to participate, but mostly sits and watches without much comment.  It’s hard to know whether he’s having a good time or not.  If he ever DOES comment, it’s like E.F. Hutton.  Everyone stops, turns to him, listens, then he assumes the deer in headlights position. We’ve been back two days now.  Yesterday, being our first full day back in paradise, we were anxious to piddle in the yard.  I gave him some clippers and I took the big cutters.  I’d cut away the dead stuff and ask him to haul it off.  He would stand there with one branch in his hand and clip it into a million little pieces.  Now, ask me how patient I was.  Go ahead, ask me.  The answer is....VERY PATIENT.  ...at least for the first hour. I tried to get Jerry to just sit and relax on the lawn chair, but he insisted on following me around to “help”.  It was a tad “trying”.

At 4 o’clock, I decided it was about time to come in and get all cleaned up.  Jerry had grown a little beard while in Winterville.  Lest he look like a bum, we thought it was best that we do the whole shave, clip and grooming thing.  Here’s where I got “sniffy”.  Jerry has not been able to shave with a razor for about a year.  The electric thingie just wasn’t going to do the trick, so I decided to shave him really smooth with his Mack whatever razor.  It was slow and tedious, but while we were quiet and alone, I would look at his eyes.  They were vacant and half closed.  He was sitting with his arms around my waist and I was facing him.  Every time I looked at his eyes, I couldn’t help but have compassion for him.  I’d hug him and tell him I was sorry that I had to do this...that I knew he wished he could do it himself.  It was one of those emotional moments.

That night, we were going with friends out to a nice restaurant.  I almost called it off, because Jerry had “left the building” and I didn’t have the emotional energy to “put on the show”.  I call it that, because sometimes it takes an act to be brave and energetic.  We went anyway and had a good time, thanks to our extremely understanding friends.

So, spring is here and I’m glad, because we must stay simple and in a routine for a while.  The weather will be warming up and casual walks will be possible now.  Montana will get her doggie walks and we can be “normal” again.

Back from Winterville

It was a beautiful snowy week.  Perfect for skiing, hot chocolate and books.  Jerry sat in the front seat while my very patient son-in-law, Dave, drove the long narrow roads to Snowshoe.  They're knuckles may have been white, as we circled that mountain on those snowy roads, but Jerry didn't say a word.    Lucky for Dave. Jerry and I were invited (paid for) so we could babysit our 4 grand baby boys. Works for me! Jerry loves to sit with baby Mac and pat his leg. Mac, being number 3, loves that too. My only request was not to have all four AWAKE at the same time. I mean, we are talking about 4 boys under the age of  5. (PLUS JERRY)  I knew Jerry would want to ski.  I felt so bad and I constantly was trying to distract him from the reality that he would not be putting on any skis.

As a break, I got to go out everyday. I snowplowed 4 runs!  On the first day, I fell and couldn't get up.  It was a "particularly steep" green, ya know.  After a few unsuccessful attempts, I decided sliding down on my back might work. There I was, flat on my back, arms and poles spread wide, skis under me, when three cute snowboarders stopped by and said, "you need any help?"   My first thought was "NO!  WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE? YOU MORON!"  Course, considering it was me who looked like the moron, I just smiled, waved them on, and said, "Oh no. You'll never get me up.  I think I'll just slide on down.  Thanks being such gentlemen."

Jerry was not happy about my leaving him for that hour.  At one time, he actually stomped his feet when he saw me put on my jacket.  Seriously!  He stomped his feet like a child. I have never seen that before.  I "lied" and told him that the doctor said it would be too dangerous for him to ski. I use the doctor as an excuse quite often.  He skeptically accepted it, and once my daughter coaxed him into the hot tub, he was fine.

It seems I have a problem with ski lifts.  Like the time on the Soaring Eagle lift, when I couldn't get off because my butt got caught on the edge of the chair. That wouldn't have happened if it didn't droop so much. (and I'm not talking about the lift, either.)  Nonetheless, that stinkin' lift just scooped me back up and started taking me back down the mountain!   There I was hanging on for dear life as my son-in-law, Jason, was yelling, "Stop!  Stop!"   Once the lift stopped I found myself dangling about 6 feet above the ground.  What was I to do..but, jump off!  On my skis!  Without falling!

Now, on the Ballhooter lift, NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THE RED LINE.  What red line?  You know, the line where the skier stands waiting to sit as the lift turns the corner. Way too early, I plopped onto the chair as it moved around. Feeling rather proud, I moved right along and two skiers at the RED LINE, dropped right into my lap.  What!  I'm so sorry. Help!  There we were, poles and skis all tangled up as we hung in the balance over a hundred foot drop?

As a treat to Jerry we all went tubing on the last night. That was a taste of reality to me.  It took 30 minutes to layer him up so he wouldn't get cold, but I bundled him until he could hardly move. I handed him his tube and we all followed each other over to the pulley where his tube would be attached.  I motioned for him to sit in the tube.  He kept trying to stand in the tube.  "No, Jerry.  You need to sit.  Just sit down in the hole."  He just couldn't get it so they stopped the pulley.  After gently forcing him down, he dropped into the tube and off he went, feet straight up in the air.  Sigh!  In spite of all the struggle, he loved the ride down and the whole series was repeated for about 20 times, until I was frozen like a stick and he was happy!

Thus you have the saga of the ski trip.  Lots of work. Lots of fun.  Wonderful.

Mirrors and Scales

Frankly, I think the world would be better off without them! While we were dressing this morning, I took the opportunity to get Jerry on the scale.  He was down to 173 pounds.  He asked, “How is it?”  I said, “Great.  You are 193 pounds.” Now that was a boldface lie!  BUT, he stepped off with confidence.  Sometimes with dementia folks, it’s not always important to be right.  If I had told him he was down to 173, he would have stepped off the scale with his head hung low and defeated.  Do you think God will forgive me for that?  I think so.

Jerry is 6’4” and has maintained a weight of 198 since he was 20.  Makes me sick!  Course, he’s never had to bear a child! Or three of them, for that matter.   Anyway, he’s always been such a handsome thing.  What people would call a “HOTTIE”!  He’s my little hottie, that’s for sure.  I’m trying my best to keep him fattened up.  I give him piles of food, which he offers to me.  I tell him “thanks” and that I’ve got mine and his plate is for him.  Still he piddles.  So, I supplement with ice cream, shakes, and fruit, wine, cheese...I mean this guys has no restrictions.  Basically, he eats half of everything he is served. I hear that’s the how thin people eat.  I wouldn’t know.

This care giving thing really has aged me.  Or, at least, I think so.  I mean, we’ve been playing this game this since I was 46.  I can’t believe I was that young when it all started.  Even though I feel like a perky young thing on the inside (sometimes), every time I pass a mirror I see an old woman on the outside.  I’m taken back!  WHO IS THAT?  Whoever it is, that expensive ANTI AGING FACE CREAM isn’t working!  The wrinkles have set in like concrete and they are not going away.

No so for Jerry, though.  Oh no! No wrinkles there.  Only the ones that make you look distinguished!  That’s just not fair.  I hear that dementia patients actually age quit well, because they have no stress.  YOU”VE GOT THAT RIGHT!  The most stress Jerry has is when he is putting on his jammie bottoms.  (Remember that blogpost?)

So, I’m going to start a new petition to send to congress to ban all mirrors and scales.  They can add it to the new government healthcare bill.  I bet it might pass.

Brand New Day

Spit spot!  Must get myself pulled back together again.  It’s 6:30am and I’ve had my coffee, did a little meditation, and..............SAW  MY NEIGHBOR RIDE HER BIKE BY WITH HER DOG!

Yes!  It’s 6:30!  What’s up with that?  She’s so good and that’s why she’s skinny and I'm not!

Anyway, that’s all I needed to straighten myself up again.  Yesterday’s post was a bit sad and melancholy, wouldn’t you say?  It’s true that when I find myself getting all melancholy, it’s because I haven’t exercised.  Don't you just hate to hear that!  I haven't walked in 3 days.  I mean, it’s been longer than that since I’ve power walked.  I’ve got to get my bohunkas in gear.  Anybody old enough to remember that word?

I’ve started Jerry back on Aricept and a new medical food called Axona. Axona is a prescription food that manages metabolism.  It provides an alternative energy to brain cells.  HONEY, I’M THE ONE WHO NEEDS THE ENERGY!

[caption id="attachment_261" align="alignright" width="150" caption="Buy me!"][/caption]

Haven’t updated you on any art lately.  I finished the bottles and have painted 14 bunnies and 12 lambs in the past three weeks.   I'm hoping to sell these little buddies (they’ve become my friends). Easter is coming and Spring is almost here.  Need the $$$.  After all, gotta pay for those companions for Jerry, ya know.  I’m taking them up to Raleigh to put in a little shop called Scout and Mollys.  Grab ‘em quick before they fly out the door. 

[caption id="attachment_263" align="alignright" width="150" caption=" Me too!"][/caption]

Anyway, after I put the finishing touches on all those things, I’ve got to get my tax papers together to take up to the accountant.  Glad Robert is coming today so that Jerry won’t be watching TV by himself.

So, without further ado, I’m signing off.  Gotta get the bike out from under the cushions in the store room.

And the morning stars sang together,  and all the sons of God  shouted for joy."  Job 38:7

See you tomorrow.

Tomorrow's Another Day

[caption id="attachment_256" align="aligncenter" width="150" caption="Sunrise on Bogue"][/caption] Today, I’m able to write about yesterday.

One of the difficulties I have being the spouse of a dementia victim, is that occasionally I go back to “The Way We Were”.  (Wasn’t that a movie?)  It’s always a struggle when I move from our safe little world to reality and back again.  Yesterday was one of those days.

A dear hearted guy, I’ve named King Richard, approached me and asked if Jerry wanted to play golf that afternoon. (I call him that because he’s about 7 feet tall and towers over Jerry.)  It was a perfectly clear, mid 60’s Emerald Isle day.  He had someone drop out of his foursome and thought he could take Jerry along.  Now you must know that Jerry is young and healthy looking; it’s his brain that doesn’t work!  My first reaction was “fear and trepidation” because I didn’t want to set him up for failure.  So, I patted “the King” on his hand and told him how much I appreciated his asking.  I explained to him that Jerry really only “plays” golf and that he would have to line him up and point him in the right direction.  If that is done, THEN, he could hit a slammer. (That’s baseball, I think.)  King cares for his father with Alzheimer disease, so he knows the ropes well. He quickly said, “That’s ok.  None of us play well.  He can ride with me”.  I said, “Ok.”  FIRST MISTAKE.

SECOND MISTAKE!  You cannot rush a dementia person.  It’s like pushing a rope.  After church, we rushed home, fixed a quick PB&J and I helped Jerry change clothes.  We had a 12:30 tee time to make.

THIRD MISTAKE!  You cannot be late for a tee time.  We were!  At the golf course, I ran inside to pay.  Jerry patiently waited, we put his clubs on the cart and I scurried that little cart past all those healthy golfers and on to the third hole, where they were getting ready to shoot.  (uhhhh. I think that’s basketball. ) At no fault of his own, King Richard apologized and said he had waited for 10 minutes and thought we weren’t coming, so he picked up another golfer.  He offered for Jerry to come along as a 5^th player but I would need to drive him.  WHO ME?  I felt so bad.  I could feel the anxiety well up inside of me because I hate for Jerry to be hurt or disappointed. It’s the “mother’ in me.   I passed and decided we’d just schedule it another time.  My eyes began to well up.  Jerry stepped back into the cart, I made a U- turn and headed back to the clubhouse.  I was biting my cheek as hard as I could in order not to cry.

Passing by all those jovial and healthy golfers preparing to tee off, flooded my mind with memories of my old Jerry.  I could envision his laughing face, cap pushed back,  driving off with his foursome.  I was beginning to crumble as I walked in the to get my money back.  The desk clerk only offered me a rain check.  “What!  My husband has....I explained the whole thing...we’ve only been here 5 minutes".. yada yada', then stood there quivering until he reluctantly handed over the money.

THEN I BROKE DOWN!  With tears streaming down my cheeks, I walked by the rangers to help Jerry get the clubs off the cart and into the car.  He looked at me and with his endearing eyes, put his arm around me and said, “I’m ok.”  THAT DID IT!  My heart broke for him.  I never should have taken him.  I had failed him.  I missed him.

Can’t believe I’m telling the world all of this!  I only hope this helps someone.  Anyway, I eventually took him to the driving range, where a wonderful manager cheered me up and helped me get Jerry set up.  We slept for 2 hours when we got home.  Then we went on with our day that ended well.

I ate 2 pieces of cake that night.  (they were small ones though!)

Oh well!  Tomorrow’s another day.

Anticipation

Hey Ya’ll!  (a little www.pauladean.com).   I heard a birdie singing this morning!  Spring is around the corner and the crocus will be popping out soon.  Can’t wait! For a little last minute winter fun, my girls have insisted that Jerry and I come to the snow covered mountains in Virginia with them next week.  There will be 6 adults and 4 kids under 6.  Hmm.  Which car do I want to ride in; the van with 3 boys and a video screen?  Or the smaller car with an infant in the car seat?  It’s a 5 hours drive.   I really had to revisit this idea several times before I said yes.  My initial reaction was “I wanna go!”  Then, I got scared!

I haven’t told Jerry yet.  You see, with dementia folks there is no concept of time.  A trip tomorrow could actually be the one we’re taking 6 months from now.  Jerry gets, for lack of a better word, anxious about anything in the future. It doesn’t matter if I am going to a neighbor’s in an hour, or taking a trip next week.  I say “anxious”, not as in afraid, but as in wondering when.  Does that make sense?

For instance, if Bruce is coming on Monday, I’ll probably hear about it numerous times everyday since Jerry doesn’t know what day it is.  It’s not like he can ask and I can answer.  It’s a mind game of charades trying to figure out WHAT he is asking, giving him the answer, only to have repeated 10 minutes later. So, I tell him the night before that Bruce is coming “tomorrow”.   I’ve taken snapshots of everyone who comes to see him, cut them in little 2 inch squares, and glued magnets on the back in order to stick them on a calendar. (on the frig, of course) We are in preschool, aren’t we?  You think that’ll help?  I’ll let you know once I get them on the frig.  Haven’t gotten a “round tuit” yet.

Anyway, with fear and trepidation, I’m getting excited about this little trip.  I’ve already told the girls that their daddy and I have to ride a tube down those hills.  No skis for me, I’m not keen on torn out knees.  But, the tube, I can handle.  Can’t wait to see Jerry’s huge white grin!  It goes great with his blue eyes!

It's All Visual

If you ever want to get your day started on a laughing track, just watch Ellen.  Usually, I’ve been up a couple of hours before Jerry comes down.  We have our coffee and paper, then, at 9:00, I turn on Ellen.  There we are dancing with Ellen to get our blood going.  Now, don’t laugh!  We really do!  Of course, Jerry’s idea of dancing is a gentle motion of his arm and toe.  I’m all over the place!  Can’t imagine that, huh?

TV or a movie is always a good thing to do with Jerry.  Of course, he wants me sitting right beside him.  Isn’t that sweeeeet! At night you’ll see us cuddled up on the sofa anesthetizing our brain.  Sometimes, I cheat and get the computer, but lots of times we find a movie.  It keeps him “in the moment”.  It also keeps him from having to listen to ME.  I know he loves that!  I mean, wouldn’t you want a break from ME?  I know he gets tired of my trying to make futile conversation with him.  Some of his favorites are: Rudy, Blindside, Band of Brothers, Valkerie, Defiance, or pretty much any true story.

Tonight we watched “The Departed” with Matt Daemon.  We’ve watched it a dozen times!  That’s one thing that Jerry and I have always done; go to the moves.   Our first date was to see “The Reivers (1969), with “what’s his name”, uh, Ricky Schroeder...no, Opie, no, Ron Howard...no, Steve McQueen.  The story took place in Mississippi and Jerry’s cousins were supposedly “extras” in the film.  Jerry forgot his wallet.  (I should have known then...)   Anyway, we’ve watched them all.  In fact, we try to make it a point to watch every movie that’s on the Academy Award list each year.  It doesn’t matter now, whether Jerry’s seen it before, because every time we watch a film it’s like seeing it for the first time.  How good is that?

Hanyway..(said with a sigh).

The Little Couple

I love that show!  What if the whole world was filled with little people and those of us who are large were considered different? Jerry and I were watching The Little Couple tonight; the show on TLC Discovery, where the wife is a doctor. That couple is so cool! They are tiny,tiny, tiny.  But their character is big, big, big.  What I like best about them is that they are not victims!  I love that!  I mean, who says that being outside the “norm” is bad?  What’s up with that?

Just because Jerry can’t speak or carry on a conversation doesn’t mean he is “lesser than”.  He’s actually quite cool, so to speak.   And, man!  Does he have the most beautiful eyes!  Most dementia people don’t care about social norms.  He doesn’t give a “....” about dressing perfect (just as long as he is not cold) or keeping up with the Jones’s.  Who are the Jones’s anyway?  I’ve always considered it pretty cool when someone stays true to one’s self.

We all need to be considerate to those with a ‘handicap”.  I mean, “there, but for the grace of God, go I. “   They don’t want to be pitied, they want to be respected.

[caption id="attachment_229" align="alignleft" width="150" caption="Let's go hear some jazz"][/caption]

For dementia people, we need to speak slower and with fewer words.  Try not to ask a direct question because you’ll get the “deer in headlight” response.  It’s better to just say, “Let’s go...”, “Come with me.” , “It’s beautiful...”.or “What a game”...don’t expect an answer and you might be delightfully surprised.  I also realize that Jerry has a difficult time making a decision; like he would not be able to answer, “where do you want to eat?” or “what are you hungry for?’  It’s better to say, “Let’s go hear some jazz."   I hope this helps a little in the communication game.  Remember, it’s better  just relax and “be” with them or walk along side of them.  Lighten up and have fun with them.  Just be sensitive.

I think that’s probably enough for now.

The Cake Boss is calling!  Don’t be cheap with the “sau-ace”!  (say that with a Jersey accent).   I’m beginning to like those No-wau-thaners.

Yellow Bird - then again, maybe not

All right. I just looked up the meaning of yellow bird.  Most of the places I saw mentioned sadness and ruin.  I"M NOT GOING THERE! However, the word YELLOW symbolizes Gold: See Colors (Yellow).The riches of the glory of God; enduring capacity of the believer as overcomer.  Yellow:  a symbol for hope and light...brightness, cheerfulness, and hope.

Come to think of it....that bird was a golden yellow!

Whatever!  He's upside down now!

Yellow Bird

[caption id="attachment_192" align="alignleft" width="150" caption="paint me"][/caption] I once bought a little yellow bird that I kept in an antique cage on my front porch.  It wasn’t a real bird, but a battery operated one, that sang every time someone walked by. Eventually, the battery ran out.  That bird has been in all sorts of positions in that cage.

Since moving to the beach, I didn’t have a place to put yellow bird, so I placed the birdcage next to our tub and hung yellow bird upside down from her swing. Don’t know why. It just made me laugh.  Course, it could have been because that’s the way I feel when my battery is out and can’t sing anymore.  Thus, by the tub.

Let me tell you the real story of Yellow Bird.  Shortly, after Jerry was diagnosed, we spent a lot time on the emotional roller coaster of grief,  contemplating the meaning of life.  One beautiful spring day, I heard Jerry go outside.   It was clear and sunny and the temperature was perfect for spring planting. The solid front door was open so the light could come in, but the outer glass door was closed.  Outside, sitting on the top step was Jerry, alone.  I was hesitant  to walk out too quickly, so I just stood there and watched.

[caption id="attachment_193" align="alignright" width="150" caption=" "][/caption]

Seconds later, a yellow bird dropped down and skipped right at his feet.  He gently put his hand down, opened it, and the little fella hopped in.  Without a word, Jerry sat there and caressed the little bird, rubbing his finger down its back.  They were connected.  I’ve never seen anything like it.    Call it a sign.  Call it a spirit.  Call it what you want.   I knew from that moment on that we were going to make it.  To me, it was the Spirit of God telling us it would be ok.

“The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. Psalm 34:7

Eventually, Jerry got up and placed Yellow Bird on a limb and he flew away.  I’ll never forget that day.  In fact, since Jerry was my inspiration to paint, what do you think of my naming my art business after that experience?  I could name it “Yellow Bird Art” or something like that.  Give me some suggestions.

It's Sunday

I remember as if it were yesterday.  When Jerry was first diagnosed, we were both quite aware of what the diagnosis meant.  Losing your mental faculties, and dying a slow death.   Jerry was a very bright man.

As we lay in silent stillness that night, he broke the silence by asking, “How do you have a relationship with God, when you’ve lost your mind?”  It broke my heart.  But, trying to stay strong, I reached over and put my hand on his.  I said, “Well, because God is who He is, and He is able, I’m sure He will instill you with His Holy Spirit”. “You, more than likely, won’t be encumbered by the things we all usually worry about and you will probably have an even sweeter experience with Him.”

I’ve seen this come true on so many occasions. Now, keep in mind,  Jerry can read very little, he rarely remembers my name, nor does he know how to put toothpaste on his toothbrush.  These are habits that he has done his entire life and were embedded into his brain.  Yet, when he hears a song, like “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me...” or “At the cross, at the cross, Where I first saw the light and the burden of my heart rolled away....” he becomes misty eyed.

And on Christmas Eve, when we sing Silent Night, he still holds his candle high.

There are so many events in our lives that seem so important, but are really such folly.  I've found that it’s the experiences that are true to the heart that remain.

You Are My Sunshine

Yesterday we awoke to snow in Emerald Isle.  Filled with anticipation, I sprung out of bed at 3:30 to take a peek out the window. It looked like about 7 inches of the white stuff neatly packed high along our deck rails.  It was a winter wonderland! I snuck back in bed quietly, so as not to wake up Jerry, but my eyes were wide open.  I was just like a kid on Christmas Eve, who knows Santa has come, but can’t go downstairs yet. At 4:30, I just couldn’t stand it anymore.  I wanted to get pictures of the snow at night, before the sun came up.  Call me crazy!  I donned my fleece, my pea coat, pulled on my polka dot rubber boots, tucked my pink nylon jammies inside and headed downstairs to get my camera. I needed a tripod of some sort, so I grabbed a box and placed it on the deck rail and started clicking away.

Thus, my day had begun.

Jerry was thrilled by the snow.  We walked Montana to the beach and let her roam free to spring in and out of the huge white mounds.   Then, we settled in to our warm house and cooked up some apple pancakes with raspberry syrup and fat free whipping cream from the can.  You know the stuff that you swirl out of the spout.   It’s our grandson’s favorite!

I kept telling Jerry that it would be another hunker down day and that he didn’t even have to get dressed today.  How exciting is that!  So, I turned on the Olympics for him and I got started on Adobe Photoshop.

In the afternoon, some friends from our church called and asked if we were going to our Valentine party.  Since I was all comfy, I really was not all that enthused about going.  But, they knew how lazy I can be so they offered to pick us up.  What a sneaky plot! These people are so precious and friendly and so sweet to Jerry.  When we arrived, the room was filled with balloons and friends all chattering and laughing away.  Someone gave Jerry a drink and some cookies so he was just fine.   During the party, the men had to sing an old love song to their wives.  It was too funny!  Jerry and I stood together in the doorway, watching and listening and after everyone was finished, someone said, “Jerry, do you still sing?”  The room became sweetly quiet.  He smiled.  I know he wanted to say something.  I remembered his letters he wrote while he was training for the Viet Nam War.  They all had written in them, “You Are My Sunshine.”   I reminded him of that.  Then, a voice chimed in and said, “Come on, Jerry, we’ll all sing it with you.”  So the voices broke out with these words:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are gray.  You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.  Please don’t take my sunshine away.

Dog Gone Mad!

The sun’s up. [caption id="attachment_160" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="need my coffee"][/caption]

The dog barked all night.  She sleeps on the bottom floor by the door where she can see every varmint that comes into the yard.  Montana is a little out of sorts and has been a tad hyper running in circles, in and out of the house, and barking for attention.  I think I know why.

Jack came for a couple of hours yesterday while I was at my art lesson.  Jerry seemed a bit confused when I got home, wondering where I had been.  I figured I’d reassure him by making us a pan of brownies for a special treat.  Chocolate solves everything, ya know.  His two favorite things are chocolate and ice cream.

To save me from myself, I packaged up the leftover brownies in a Tupperware container and a small sandwich bag, then, lined them up against the back edge of the counter along with the twisted up the bag of chocolate chips.  Shortly after, we headed upstairs to take a little nap.  (Jerry loves it when I nap with him.)  With Jerry still sleeping, I snuck off the bed and went downstairs. I noticed Montana sheepishly laying with her head under the coffee table in the living room. As I walked by, I said, “Hey there, Montana.”   She didn’t move her body, just her eyes as they followed me across the room, then they focused on a crumpled up yellow bag of chocolate chip morsels. EMPTY!  THAT DOG! “Montana!  What have you done?”

Montana had never had table food in her entire life and therefore had no clue what was in the kitchen.  Then, it dawned on me.  At dinner time, Jerry’s been sneaking little bites to her.  You know, like a kid who doesn’t like their vegetables.  That’s why Montana knew what was on that counter!  So, when I approached the kitchen, I saw a beautifully clean counter top.  No trace of brownies anywhere.  I mean, she stole ALL of those brownies without even moving the containers.  How did she do that?

I think she’ll stay outside for awhile.

Bedtime Riddle

How many times do you have to take your jeans off before you can put on your PJ’s? I recently read a post about being a hamster on a wheel.  Has that guy seen me before?  The PJ question should be a simple one.  I think one of the most aggravating times of the day is bedtime.  By then, I am tired and all I want to do is just crawl in my crib.  For the life of me, I just cannot imagine what in the world is going through Jerry’s head.

He stands in front of his dresser pulling open every drawer.  His jammie drawer is at the top.  Usually, I lay his jammies on the bed, but, still, he pulls all the drawers open.  I tell him, beginning nicely, to take off his jeans and put on his jammie b

ottoms.  He just doesn’t get it.  He looks at me, puzzled, and grumbles.  I repeat, “Take off your jeans.”  He sits on

the side of the bed and S-L-O-W-L-Y pulls his jeans down to his knees.  (I’m already in bed by now.)  He stands up and pulls his jeans back up.  I say, “No, take them off.”  He sits and pulls them down...pauses, then stands and pulls them back up again. Got the picture?  I don’t think he remembers that he is getting ready for bed.

Last night, I lost it. After the fifth time of watching yo-yo jean, I got up and pulled his jeans off from his feet.  I promise!  I did NOT knock him down!  (you thought I did, didn’t you?)  Once the jeans were off, he didn’t want to put on his jammies.  Grrrrrrrr!  What’s a girl to do?  I “suggested” he put the things on!  He did.  Eventually.

I can chuckle about this because once Jerry finally got into the bed, we held hands and laughed.  I said, “I love you”.  He said, “I’m glad you do.”  Guess I better get off the hamster wheel and find another way.

Big Guy!

I cannot blog without telling you about Robert, affectionately referred to as “Big Guy.” He calls me "Miss Sue". Robert has been with us for over a year and a half now.  He comes one day a week, faithfully.  Funny, when Montana first met Robert, she was not very happy about it.  Being the protector that she is, she barked like a maniac!  Now, when the truck pulls up, she runs to him to get her treat, jumps in the front seat and sits between he and Jerry.   Guess that means it’s a good thing. About 4 years ago, Robert and his dad were driving home, in the middle of the day, when a woman in another car drove across the center line and hit them head on.  His legs were crushed between the seat and the dashboard.  He lost both of them. He was 36.

The first time I met Robert, I was taken back when he got out of his truck. There he was,  this NFL linebacker of a guy, with no hesitation at all, standing on “stilts”. What an incredible inspiration he was and still is!  Together, he and Jerry walked a mile for exercise.  Occasionally, Robert takes Jerry to Camp LeJuene to see the helicopters and osprey.  He loves that because he has such respect for those who serve in our military.

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Last Wednesday, they tried something new.  Jerry and Robert went to the Pork Market.  Robert, a country boy, loves fresh pork.   No grocery store bacon for him!  Ever heard of North Carolina Barbeque?

Pulled pork, shredded pork, pork ribs, pork sausage.... (Thus, my pig paintings. Poor pigs!)  I mean, Robert must have had 20 pounds of those sausage links in that bag of his.  He went on and on raving about how good it was and graciously gave us a pack.  He was right.  There’s no comparison.

I’m sure Robert never knew he would be in this position at this point in his life.  Neither did I.  But, I love to see how God orchestrates these things for good.

Hurray for Robert!  Hurray for “Big Guy!”

Watch Out Loretta!

Did you see the winners of the $141 million Powerball jackpot? Frank and Loretta!  Now, Frank said he’d “Spend more time with my wife.”  Here’s all I can say, “Watch out Loretta!” The door men were coming early this morning.  You know, the door that lets the sunshine in? (Hey! That’s another song. Remember the musical “Hair”?)   Anyway, after our coffee, pears and a quick newspaper read (He loves pears), I told Jerry we needed to get dressed because the door repair people were coming.  I said, “Why don’t you go upstairs and brush your teeth?  I’ll be right there.”  You see, Jerry follows me everywhere; up the stairs, down the stairs, into the bathroom, and so on.  So, I try my best to have him do some things on his own.  Today, it was brush his teeth.

Now, Jerry is a man of few words.  After a little prodding, he got up from the table and headed toward the stairs as if he was going outside.  I pointed up toward the bedroom and repeated, “Go on up the stairs and brush your teeth.  I’ll be right there.”  He paused, took his first step up the stairs, and said, “Where are they?” I’m still laughing as I write this.  Jerry has all his teeth!  They are in his mouth!  I knew we were going to be in trouble. Once I got up to the bathroom, I peeked around the corner and found Jerry with toothpaste on his face, as if it were shaving crème. Poor guy.  I commented,”Oh man!  You are going to smell so good today.” and proceeded to get us both all cleaned up.

As a tip to all of you who care for someone with dementia.  Don’t do as I do.  The fewer the words, the better they will respond.  For some reason they cannot process too many fast words.  For instance, for best results I could have said, “Let’s brush our teeth.” and walked upstairs with him. PERIOD!

See what you’re in for Loretta?

Watching the Trough

In our master bedroom, we have one of those double doors with an arch at the top.   Every morning, the sun gradually wakes me up with its faint pink hues. By 8:00 it’s, well, sunshine yellow, almost white, with a laser beam burning right into my eyes.  (H-mm.  How can you stop....the sun from shining...let’s make the world go ‘round.  Isn’t that a song?)  Saint Bruce is coming today and I'm going to paint bunnies. Last night was the Super Bowl.  Nine of us gathered at my friend, Peg’s, house across the street.  No chicken fingers and Bud Light from her!  She had a spread to die for with perfectly placed platters of handmade appetizers and great wines lined up along the counter.  With just the right group of people, we gathered around chatting away and occasionally catching a glimpse of the game.

I kind of get all protective of Jerry when we are at social gatherings.  I want to make sure he doesn’t get his feelings hurt.  Even though he would never say anything (obviously), I can tell in his eyes when he’s feeling left out. ALSO, I have to make sure he doesn’t perform any social “fop-as". (even though everyone would understand.)  I always have to keep watch over him out of the corner of my eye.  Sure enough, I found him at the “trough” where he thought the entire spread was placed there just for him.  I mean he was diving into that luscious hot cream cheese dip as if it was all his. Containing my panic with a fake toothy grin, I discreetly walked over, fixed a small plate of goodies for him and encouraged him to sit at the sofa in front of the game.  No one noticed!  Whew! The other guys were all still chatting around the bar, but one by one they would come and enjoy the game by Jerry.  Such good men!

By the end of the night, the girls all huddled around the dining room table just snickering and chuckling away about the latest political scandals.  All we could say was “scuzzbuckets".  As I looked over toward the other room, I saw that the guys were all spaced out evenly in front of the TV, not saying a word, but engrossed in the game, "communicating” in their own way.     WHO WAS PLAYING ANYWAY?

Quickly-It's Super Bowl Night

I want to ask your forgiveness if you've not gotten a response back from me.  I try to respond to every post I receive.  When I respond, it goes back to the blog comment for that day..not to your personal email.  I do apologize and I appreciate your taking time out of your day to read and comment on the blog.  Do not hesitate to pass it along to those you feel would benefit. Thank you so much and GO SAINTS!

Bottles

In college, I minored in art, however, my focus was in pottery.  The only formal experience I had was a class in color and design.  That was 30 years ago.  When I started painting recently, I devoured every book I could find.  I didn’t know NOTHIN!  (That was probably pretty evident in my first few years of “artwork”.)  Today was my opportunity to take my first painting class. Our new companion, Jack, came and I had the whole afternoon.  Jack and Jerry had a very successful day.  Jack took him to the senior center, where they played pool.  Then he took him to his house to have lunch. I could tell when Jerry came home that he was really happy.  Even though he didn’t speak, his face was bright and relaxed and smiling.

Jack’s spending the day with Jerry, enabled me to take an art class. (without worry).  Remember I told you I wanted to find something to work on for a long period of time?  I chose the antique bottles from Ephesus, where Jerry and I traveled.  I began painting those bottles last week with an under painting in really thinned down oils.  Layer by layer I added more depth and color.  I have put hours and hours into those bottles.  Actually, I love to paint fast and emotional, but working on the bottles is providing time of stillness and reflection.

When I took the painting to paint class, I told the teacher that my composition was all wrong and I needed help.  She agreed and proceeded to tell me I’d have to move one of those bottles off center.  NOW, moving a real bottle is pretty simple.  Just pick it up and put it down somewhere else.  NOT SO BRUTO in painting.  With a sneer on my face and a reluctant paint brush, I took a big gulp and began to cover parts of the existing bottle on the left and extend the other side over to the right.  Low and behold, that bottle began to move.

Don’t know why I am telling you all this.  Just that it’s so good for the caregiver to be able to get her mind totally immersed in something other than care giving.  It refreshes the spirit to be able to carry on a conversation, create something new, see an end result, and feel an accomplishment.  A refreshed and renewed spirit makes me a better care giver and enables me to smile and be energized.  Jerry needs that.

Want to see my bottles?  They are a work in progress.