And That Was How It Was

This has been quite a week. Such a week that I did not even make mention of Tarzan's first AND second posts. Yay Tarzan! They were both well received and for that I thank you Internet peeps. From the nature of these first two I suspect Tarzan's posts will be heavily esoteric; thoughtful, well researched and insightful but for the day to day nonsense you will have to rely on me. Such is the way of the world.
As for the week's events; we have seen two shows - Tarzan and I saw his cousin in a very amature production of Beauty and the Beast last Friday night. It was darling; especially the tiny little kid who played Gaston, and played it to the hilt. If there were Tonys for amature, I would give it to him. He sold that role and he was about half the size of the girl playing Belle - Tarzan's cousin had that part and did excellently - and ATL and I saw Fiddler on the Roof with Topol. That man has to be nearing 80 but he was Tevye and it was awesome. He got nearly 5 minutes of applause when he first stepped on the stage and it was like coming home to watch him. No changing the role, no hamming it up, nothing to indicate he'd done this over 2,500 times before on stage and screen - you heard me, twenty-five HUNDRED times. That's a lot. He played it straight and so genuinely I totally believed him and wanted it to come out differently for his sake, though I knew it wouldn't. That's a good show.
AND THEN Tarzan and I will be seeing Spamalot tonight. so excited. (When am I not excited to see musical theater I ask you?) I am sure it will be very different from Fiddler on the Roof, but no less interesting and enjoyable.
What else did we do? Lessee, we visited Gamma and GOM - same ol' same ol' there - went to the beach - whole 'nother post there with the swimsuit story - groceries, cleaned the house, had some friends over for dinner, trimmed the bushes etc. back, fed the plants and the cats - I think Belle may have wandered off from our possession too - whoever is taking my cats needs to stop it already - did some laundry...oh yeah and trucked over 200 grapefruit out to my parents' house. Grapefruit from GOM's tree, which were just going to go bad since he can't eat that many and no one else around is either, and to my parents so my mom can bottle them up for my father to drink all year round.
You know, the usual.

This is me, summing it up.

Firsts

I was reading this on Lola's page and since it's been a while since I did a meme,
I stole it.
These are my firsts. Copy and paste into your own blog, blah, blah, blah you know the rest.
1. Who was your FIRST prom date?
It was his prom not mine - I didn't get invited to my prom - but Ryan Cowley was fun and sweet and we had a good time.
2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?
No. It was junior high, a long way away and I was not as mature then as I am now and probably scarred the poor boy for life.
3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
The closest I come is having a beer poured ON me at a party in college.
4. What was your FIRST job?
My first real job, other than babysitting, was for a sandwich place. Still can not abide mayonnaise to this day because of the huge vats we had to scrape it out of.
5. What was your FIRST car?
Tarzan and I were both on the title to the first new car either one of us have ever had. A 2000 green Saturn. I've never held the title to a car all by my lonesome.
6. Who was the FIRST person to text your today?
7. Who was the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
[sniff] No one has. [sniff sniff] Actually I don't text a lot.
8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Mrs. Susan Percy. She asked me to read Clifford to the class when she had to go to the office for something. I tried to show off and read upside down like she did, but it wasn't very successful.
9. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
Believe it or not, my first airplane ride was when we left The Frozen North for The Desert. I was 17.
10. Who was your FIRST best friend and do you still talk?
Thanks to the wonders of Facebook, I have caught up with my first best friend. We live worlds apart now and likely won't be best friends the way we were but she's still awesome and doing awesome things and I'm glad I know about it.
11. Where was your FIRST sleep over?
Probably across "the path" at Emily's house.
12. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
Tarzan. He's the first person I talk to every day. It would be weird if I didn't.
13. Whose was the FIRST wedding were you in?
Other than my own...I haven't really been in a wedding all official and stuff. I'm usually the wife of the brother or one of a bunch of sisters.
14. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Kissed Tarzan and went to the bathroom. Mine is a calm and peaceful existence.
15. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
Raffi. I was 6 and the kid across Rural Route #1 and I went with his mom to see Raffi in concert. It was awesome. He sang Baby Beluga AND the Teeth Brushing song.
16. FIRST tattoo?
Never even thought about getting one.
17. FIRST piercing?
Considered it, but I pierce myself enough every day to bother getting permanent ones.
18. FIRST foreign country you went to?
Does the U.S.A. count? It was foreign when I visited in the ninth grade.
19. FIRST movie you remember seeing?
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It was pouring rain and we had to run from the car to the theater and then run back and we still got soaked.
20. When was your FIRST detention?
I never had detention per se, but I was "excused" from class until I could stop laughing.
21. Who was your FIRST roommate?
ATL was the first I remember...oh you mean other than sisters? That would be the girl who already had a boy over and undressed when I started moving my stuff in. Wish I could remember her name.
22. FIRST thing you think of when they ask the one wish question?
I wish people weren't so stupid. And I wish I had enough money to solve the problems of all those close to me.
23. FIRST thing you want to learn if given the chance?
To play the piano.
24. Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage?
The first person to ask me seriously, yes. The others were just messing around.
25. What was the FIRST sport you were involved in?
Intramural floor hockey. It was awesome.
26. What were the FIRST lessons you ever took?
Horseback riding. I was 5 and the pony was Spot.
27. What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home?
Kiss Tarzan if he's here, and then put my purse and keys down.
28. Who will be the FIRST person to post this?
Maybe RHM, maybe Rocketgirl, maybe no one.

This is me, with a decent meme.

Let My People Go

Tarzan likes to watch The History Channel and sometimes I watch too. I don't always care about war machines and stuff, but this week we have a very interesting quasi-documentary called The Exodus:Decoded. The premise is this one guy trying to prove that the Israelites' exodus from Egypt really happened. He's got scientific evidence of the ten plagues and reasons for the parting of the Red Sea and for all happenings in the Bible. I have always been a fan of moderation and I think religion and science can work together with no ill effects so I like to watch and see what they can come up with.
I am sure it is not supposed to be, but I am finding this one highly amusing. And not for the reasons one might think.
I am not as amused by their desire to find physical proof of the Bible as by James Cameron being listed as an expert in the subject and talking like he knows stuff about archeology and Biblical happenings.
Amused that they never ask anyone from the LDS church to be a religious scholar on the Bible but they ask dudes who hang out in mountain caves what their professional opinion is.
Maybe because of James Cameron being part of the deal the special effects are amazing and the soundtrack is similar to The Bourne Identity.
And I guess the thing that makes me laugh the most is the narrator talks to us in such reverent tones it's like he expects the bush to still be burning when he walks up Mount Sinai.

This is me, watching some dude in the heat and the sun and not wishing I was there.

Tarzan's Second Post

It is the nature of the teaching biz that I am continually certifying and taking exams to maintain my professional status. As time goes on, the state of California keeps adding on new requirements for teachers. Its a constant headache and if you don't keep current, you can't work as an educator. When I started teaching, I had to pass the CBEST, MSAT and RICA exams in order to qualify for my teaching credential. I didn't have to take the CTEL, which measures your ability to teach students with limited English skills. As a librarian I'm always partnered with another teacher and since they were required to have the CTEL, librarians weren't required to take that exam. Well last year Sacramento decided to change the rules and require librarians to take the CTEl also. This caused much concern amongst my colleagues seeing as the CTEL is a three part exam that takes 8 hours and concerns teaching skills and contexts librarians don't usually use. I spent all my Saturdays in May taking classes to prepare for CTEL 1 &2. I had to miss the class covering CTEL 3 because it conflicted with my brother's wedding in April and there was no question of my not attending that blessed event.
I took the test on June 13 and the unofficial results were posted online last night. I hadn't been able to take the class for CTEL 3 and a lot of the material on CTEL 1 & 2 was material I hadn't worked with since I taught kindergarten. If I didn't pass the tests, I could either take about $3,000 worth of college courses or try to pass the tests again in December. Failing that I'd be fired for non compliance with the Ed code. Sigh...
So I was thrilled to see last night that I passed all three exams. I was worried, but apparently Jane seems disgusted that I would consider doubting myself. I'm grateful for her confidence but it wasn't a sure thing. So now I can stop worrying about losing my job because of the CTEL and just hope LAUSD doesn't decide to eliminate school libraries as a cost cutting measure.

The Last Post From GOM's House

Boys and girls, as we near the end of the final day here at GOM's house, let us remember that it might be better to follow Tarzan's advice; to die young and leave a beautiful corpse.
Oh yeah, Sesame Street has nothing on me.
Let's spell cranky together, C-R-A...
I had a thoughtful post in the works about what I learned and how the care taking has progressed over the course of this month, but I think instead I will leave you with this morning's escapades. It's so much more indicative of the time spent with Tarzan's grandfather.
I came down this morning shortly after 6am. I have noticed a gradual creeping forward of the time I am required to be up in the morning - I was told 7am was the requirement before we started this gig - but whatever, small concessions right? Now usually GOM beats me to the bathroom where he waits until I can procure a new undershirt and diaper and then we start with the teeth and the socks and the clothes etc. On two occasions he actually slept in until almost 8 and I was at a loss as to what to do for two hours.
But not today. I came down and the bathroom light was on so I figured business as usual.
Not so.
I turned from the bathroom - it was empty - to find GOM sitting in his regular chair, reading a newspaper. With a terrible thought blossoming in my mind I asked:
"Do I want to know where that paper came from?"
His answer; "I couldn't remember what day it was, so I went out to get the paper."
He went out to get the paper.
He went OUT to GET the PAPER!
I couldn't decide if I should shriek for Tarzan or laugh hysterically at the image that quickly supplanted the thought that had been in my brain. (I ended up sputtering incoherently.) This cranky, old, man who has me fetching things all day long, who needs help in nearly every aspect of his limited daily routine, walked out the front door at probably 5am which is getting lighter but is surely not full light yet, down two, TWO, steps, to the end of the walk, picked up the paper and returned, up those same two, TWO!, steps. All with his walker and wearing only his night attire, which consists of less than I wear to bed on a regular basis, and only slightly more than I wear when Tarzan and I are getting it on.
So with that thought burning it's way into your minds, never to be removed, I leave you to the rest of your day.

This is me, say it with me everybody, day twenty-one of twenty-one.

Tarzan's First Post

It is with some reluctance that I grudgingly enter the blogosphere. I'm a very practical person who really doesn't care much about what I or others have to say most of the time. Additionally while I am enthusiastic about the Internet as a labor saving device, I consider most social networking devices such as blogs, Facebook, Twitter etc. to be little more than attractive wastes of time. At the same time, I have felt the need some time to create some sort of record. I have a lousy track record with journals so I'll give blogging a try.
I read two online items that left a possibly unjustified impression on me. The first was an excerpt from the book by Larry Barkdull, Rescuing Wayward Children, posted on Meridian magazine which can be found here. It provided a cold, no nonsense analysis of the forces arrayed against us on this world complete with citations. While I enjoyed the piece and look forward to reading the book, it didn't contain anything I really didn't know already for the most part. Yes I know that this is the most wicked of all the worlds God created. Yes I know that Satan hates us on a deep, personal level and wants all of us screaming in pain and dead yesterday. Old Crackey is having a great deal of success in this endeavor which pains God greatly. What was new to me was the effect the powers of darkness here on Earth have on the rest of Heaven. This is referred to in DC 38:11-12.
11 For all flesh is corrupted before me; and the powers of darkness prevail upon the earth, among the children of men, in the presence of all the hosts of heaven—
12 Which causeth silence to reign, and all eternity is pained, and the angels are waiting the great command to reap down the earth, to gather the tares that they may be burned; and, behold, the enemy is combined.
In other words this place is so bad that it shocks the watching hosts of heaven into painful silence and they are all really, really itching to come on down and dispense some Old Testament style retribution on the tares infesting this miserable rock. Its nice to know that my sometimes lack of patience with the wicked or as I sometimes call stupid people is shared with a host of divine beings.
That however isn't the point that stuck with me. Later on Barkdull went on to discuss the great and abominable church found in 1 Nephi 13:4-9. Verse 5 states this entity's mission statement.
And the angel said unto me: Behold the formation of a church which is most abominable above all other churches, which slayeth the saints of God, yea, and tortureth them and bindeth them down, and yoketh them with a yoke of iron, and bringeth them down into captivity.
Joy, what can Brown do for you? Anyways Barkdull goes on to analyze this scripture with the following, "In the language of war, Nephi describes an organized effort to slay the saints." Satan of course is the one doing the organizing and he does both that and the slaying by any means possible(physical or metaphsical). Once again nothing new here, but I liked Barkdull's phraseology and the thought bounced around in my subconscious.
The catalyst for today's lengthy musing arrived in the form of an MSNBC article I read titled "Mexican cartels target polygamist Mormon sect". At first I cringed as I always do when I hear the phrase Mormon sect. A lot of weird, disreputable things have been done by splinter groups and I'm honestly a bit gun shy on the topic. This group seems normal enough though and they are certainly living in a world of hurt. Its turns out this particular group decided to immigrate to Mexico 60 years ago instead of giving up polygamy. They've established a nice little, prosperous colony for themselves and have maintained their culture, language and interestingly enough their citizenship in the northern Mexican state of Chihuahua. Well the rampant violence the drug cartels have been inflicting on the rest of Mexico lately has started to rain down upon this colony in the last few months. Members of the community are being targeted as sources of ransom money by criminal elements. Meredith Romney, one of their bishops and a distant cousin of Mitt Romney was just kidnapped as an object lesson. The article goes on recount how community leaders who protested this crime wave became the target of a grusome home invasion kidnapping/execution to silence them and teach the community a lesson.
Reason number gosh I can't count that high that I am never going to Mexico. Now I know that this is a splinter group and 1 Nephi 13:5 doesn't exactly apply here, but its close and I can easily see the same thing happening here in the urban jungle I call home. If it happened in Missouri in 1838 it can happen here. I'm afraid that I am more realistic than pessimistic when I say its not a matter of if that sort of thing will happen here, but when. Next time I go home for the holidays I think I'll look up my brother QC and get some pointers on basic firearm usage for home defense. The South Central Jungle has become home and I'm not running from nobody. I just need the proper tools for that particular job though I pray mightily that I will never need to use them. I sometimes feel like a modern day Ammon living here and look forward to enjoying the balmy climate of the 'Hood for a good long time. Jane and I have made our tiny abode into a delightsome refuge, a veritable piece of heaven on earth if you will. The more I come to appreciate what we have here, the more I want to defend and hold on to it.

Phew that was a lot to get off my chest. It feels good to write though. Maybe this blogging thing isn't so bad after all.

Three Little Words

Best. Sushi. Ever.

This is me, we had the Tobiko and it was excellent.

Kazunoko Or Tobiko?

In celebration of it being our next to last day - and having to be somewhere really shortly after leaving here tomorrow evening - and ALSO the fact that we haven't killed GOM, Tarzan and I is havin' some sushi tonight.

This is me, hoping GOM doesn't expire while we're out and ruin a perfect record.

Should He?

Question:
Would you support an entry by Tarzan? He's been getting some pressure from family and other sources to post some musings on living life in The Jungle but he's still on the fence. Some Internet love might push him over to our side and then you'd know I am not making any of this up.
So leave your opinion on whether Tarzan should put up a post or two on this here blog.

This is me, with a question for you.

I Think Not

There are many times during the day when GOM can't get to the phone so I've developed a short, sweet method I can deliver automatically enough that it sounds like I know what's going on. I say, "Hello, GOM's residence, this is Jane." Usually it is the nurse or the shower lady or a doctor or one of his kids. They know me, know where GOM likely is and it's all good. On occasion it is a telemarketer. I try to be polite to telemarketers. It's not my house for one and they are just doing their job for another. Usually they are polite enough to say they will call back when he's out of the bathroom. If they persist, or want to talk to the lady of the house, I tell them Mrs. GOM is dead. That never fails to get an "I'm SO sorry." Click. Once it got me the offer of prayer - I said sure, everyone needs prayers, right?
Yesterday though, totally took the cake for telemarketers. It went down nearly exactly like this:
"Hello, GOM's residence, this is Jane."
"Is GOM available?"
"I'm sorry he's not available at the moment, can I take a message?"
"No, we can try back at another time. Is this the beautiful and talented wife of GOM?" (I am so not making this up.)
"You've got to be kidding me...(apparently he wasn't kidding me) I'm his granddaughter."
(So much easier than explaining that my husband is the oldest son of GOM's oldest daughter.)
"...Um, granddaught -" Click.


This is me, day eighteen of twenty-one.

Home Stretch

This is it boys and girls...the final lap of the marathon race...the anchor leg of the relay..it's all up to this final runner...she can see the finish line...the taste of victory is in her mouth...it's all or nothing now...the crowd is on their feet, they're cheering, they're going wild...there's nothing left to do but...
Spri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-int!!

This is me, day seventeen of twenty-one.

Chicken Or Egg?

I have come to realize that I don't like to sleep alone.
Not that I can't sleep alone in a bed - goodness knows I would never sleep at all if that were the case because when Tarzan is in the throes of a new computer game there is no such thing as sleep for him and I just can't function that way - but I don't like to be alone in the house.
I'm not sure if it's because I never have...
I am the oldest of nine children. There was never a night in my eighteen years at home where I ever slept alone in the house. Then I went to college and had roommates for five years. With one or two exceptions - like all nighters in the studio - they were always home to sleep, sometimes more often then I. After college, I lived in a boarding house type deal for the summer and I was alone in my room all the time, but never alone in the house. Then Tarzan and I got married and he's always been there. Thankfully neither one of us has to travel a lot because I wouldn't survive.

...Or if I never have because I don't like to...
A drunk guy wandered into our house one night when I was a kid - no one locked the door in that neighborhood in The Frozen North; people might die if a freak summer blizzard took them unawares and they couldn't find shelter - and I awoke to the sound of my mother calling frantically for my father. I am much like my father in that we are not morning people and neither of us wakes up well. I distinctly remember the grumbling, inaudible sound of my father herding this guy out the door and then stumbling back to bed. He barely even remembered the event the next morning, but I lay awake the rest of the night, freaking at every little noise.
Then, in college, my roommate left the sliding door to the patio unlocked one night and some guy came in and then into my room. I was asleep and I don't remember much; only rolling over in bed, feeling something duck towards the floor, rolling over and poking him in the shoulder and asking what he was doing. He freaked, and ran out, which then woke me up the rest of the way. We reported it to security and the police but I didn't have my glasses on and he had his hood up so there wasn't much of a description.
...and when the cat woke me up in the middle of the night Wednesday and I was all alone in the house - my Thursday volunteer situation, you recall, has me at our house on Wednesdays so I can be on time while Tarzan stays with GOM - I couldn't go back to sleep, twitching at every noise - like the cat walking across the papers on Tarzan's desk - and I began to wonder why I was so weirded out by being alone in the night. It wasn't just our neighborhood because when Tarzan had jury duty and he stayed at our house and I was with GOM I had a similar freak-out. Lesser degree because GOM was downstairs but he wouldn't be much help if some weirdo climbed the tree in the front yard and came in the wonderful balcony that runs the front of the house. These are the things that run through my mind in the middle of the night when I am all alone in the house.
Thoughts?

This is me, wondering if I ever got over being scared of the dark.

Any Day Now

I would like to say I am learning a lot and having a rewarding experience caring for Tarzan's grandfather. And I suppose I have learned things. There are a few family secrets that have surfaced; one that is not a secret to anyone though GOM is convinced none of his kids know it. I tried to tell him that I thought the great-grand kids knew, it is so not a secret but he refused to consider that.
Yet as we near the middle of our third week I can safely say it's not really a rewarding experience. Not in the way one usually thinks of rewards. It's definitely necessary and very important that we were able to do this, and we're happy to do it. But not for GOM's sake. Think the grumpiest, most ornery, cantankerous old person from any movie.
I'll trade you.
No, this mission is for Gamma and her siblings. We're here so she be with MusicMan while he does very important family history work on the other side of the world. We're taking these four weeks so that one of Tarzan's uncles can have a month off. He's been living here since January, almost non-stop, and for that my hat goes so far off it gets burned up in the earth's atmosphere. And after her trip, Tarzan's mother will be coming back here; not back to her house, not to relax, not to get ready for school - she's a teacher - but here, to stay with her father as much as she can before she has to go back to work. (And I think she'd back me up on the grumpy qualification.)
Now, I love my mother-in-law, I really do. It's always fun to go to Gamma's house. She's a very well intentioned hostess, she plans tons of things to see and do, she's super animated and always really excited to see us and of course there is the hot tub in the backyard. But I don't think I have ever been so glad to see her as I will be a week from the day after tomorrow. Do not be surprised if my shriek of happiness is heard 'round the world...Happiness and thankfulness. And a little awe. Of all the things I expected to happen, I could not have anticipated the levels to which my respect, appreciation, understanding and admiration of her would rise to after this stint down here at GOM's house. Thanks Gamma, for being so strong.

This is me, day fourteen of twenty-one.

It Worked

Tarzan just got back from jury duty and told me we have blossoms on the tomato plant in the upside down planter thingy on the back porch! I feel validated.

This is me, with some hope for a fresh home-grown tomato before my birthday.

Weird Dream #29

So I dreamed a dream last night, all alone in the gigantic bed that belonged to Tarzan's grandparents. (All alone because Tarzan has jury duty this week so he's staying home until it's completed.)

In this dream,I was in the military - possibly navy but i don't know why I think that - and at basic training in New Jersey, I met Amanda Tapping - of Stargate SG-1 fame, though her name was not Amanda, or Samantha as she's known on Stargate. And can I just say, though I saw her first as Helen on Sanctuary:

I much prefer her look as Samantha Carter on SG-1:

But my dream. I met Amanda Tapping and we became friends but then got deployed to different places. Fast forward a few years - and I mean that quite literally, suddenly it's years later - and I'm going to a 'function' that I know she will be attending. I push through the crowd until I am right behind her and say hello. She turns around and appears surprised and overjoyed to see me. She hugs me fiercely, says "I love you," and can we find somewhere to be alone. I suggest her place or mine and she chooses mine. We leave the party and trundle through the cold and snow to my apartment building where we go through this elaborate elevator trip to my floor. Since we left we haven't said much to each other but I have the feeling she wanted to leave a certain impression with people at the event and that we're only going to be friends from here on out. We get to my apartment and I realize that I haven't told her I'm looking after my grandfather - hmm, wonder where that came from? - and I had left him in the care of a guy from church while I went out. She rushes in ahead of me, offering to help, just as this guy comes from the other room, and then I woke up.

This is me, with an oddly structured yet not unpleasant, weird dream.

My New Philosophy

God is great, [root] beer is good and people are crazy.

The House Always Wins

Who bet that I'd have trigger finger again?
Ding ding. You win the prize!
Which is...a phone call from me when my thumb is fixed and I can dial it again. (Don't say I never gave you anything Internet peoples.)
Yes, I once again had to go back to the doctor - the one only three years older than me with the bald-on-purpose head who has seen me so often for a condition someone my age is not supposed to have this much and he might have been flirting with me not in an overt way but slightly more than usual way - and I received a Cortisone shot in my right thumb for the second time. If there's a third occurrence in the same finger/thumb I will need surgery. And frankly, that freaks me out a whole lot. I do not want him - even if he is cute for a bald doctor - to have to cut my thumb all the way to the bone and then slice the sheath that holds my tendon to my bone open.
This does not sound like a fun afternoon.
And the amusing thing is my left thumb - the one that started all the trouble - hasn't had a single episode since it was Cortisone-ed over a year ago. Who knew my mouse thumb worked harder than the hand I write with?

This is me on a much too familiar basis with the plastic surgeon.

There Are No Ticks On Me

It's a select few who might see the advantage of this but I count it a blessing.
Remember how I expounded on the beautiful-ness of Tarzan's grandparent's bedroom and the glorious air circulation? We have had to cease and desist sleeping with the balcony door open because Tarzan was being eaten alive at night by the 'skeetos. I first thought he was dramatizing a little because *I* had only one small bite after nearly two weeks down here. But then he showed me his legs and feet and, poor boy, it looks like the chicken pox has him again there are so many red and itchy bites. And I realized that this happened when I was a kid in The Frozen North. My siblings would get bit and not me. It seems that bugs can "smell" to a small extent and choose not to suck the blood of a diseased person.
It would not have been my first choice but since it is the lot I drew, I shall make the best of it.

This is me, with the upside to being diabetic.

Status Report

As we begin this second week of caring for Tarzan's grandfather all by our lonesomes I feel a lot more relaxed about the whole thing - despite my not getting up this early this consistently since the year before I stopped working.
Some of it surely is that GOM didn't die last week despite some serious whining. It is amazing to me to see the similarities between Tarzan and his grandfather, it's like they are the same person at different stages of life. And one of those similarities is their inability to deal with pain or illness. When GOM feels good then all is sunshine and roses and we're so nice to help him out and there are promises of money and gifts - NOT why we are helping let me just make that clear - and he's on top of the world. On the less than stellar days, if something hurts say, or when he feels poorly, all I hear is why doesn't the Lord let him die and maybe he needs to take morphine to end it all and he's no good to anyone, every move is punctuated with a loud aching groan and on and on and on.
I had not heard any of that previous to last week.
Either my afternoons with GOM had been all good days - unlikely so many in a row - or his pain medication was better, or I was less stressed because I was going home at the end of the day. I'm inclined to go with the last option. Last week I was worried every breath would be his last and I'd have to explain it to the family.
This week I am much more certain GOM will be fine until Tarzan's mother gets back from Europe. He's having a good day today, and now that I know the bad days are more mental than actual physical deterioration, we just remind him that he doesn't have to live if he doesn't want to, but it's not up to us to say. It's all him. That usually makes him rescind the "kill me now" statements.
Plus breakfast this morning: "the cereal [Cream of Wheat] was perfect."

This is me, on day seven of twenty-one.

Not All Bad

Random page from a random book in Tarzan's grandparent's bedroom. (Which, by the way, is AWESOME. Excellent air circulation, with a porch. I am so jealous.) This book, Safeguarding Motherhood was written first in 1949 and then republished in 1950, 1953, 1958 and 1962. I didn't know that when I opened it though. It just looked like an old book and it was blue. This was on the first page I opened to:
They say that man is mighty,
He governs land and sea,
He wields a mighty scepter
O'er lesser powers that be.
But a mightier power and stronger
Man from his throne has hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

This is me, thank you William Ross Wallace, for that.