We're Encouraged to Attend Often but it's not a Requirement

          I realize it’s been over two months since I last attended the temple.  Sad part about the whole ordeal is that I honestly haven’t missed going.

          I have a friend who attends two or three times a week.  She thrives on it – or at least she did when she lived in West Valley.  She has moved downtown Salt Lake and is actually a lot closer to the Salt Lake City Temple – I would think she still goes fairly often – perhaps even moreso.

          The first time my mom had gone through the temple, it was a terrible experience for her.  There was a lot that she didn’t understand.  Unbeknownst to her, she had gone on a session with a group who were hearing impaired.  Sign language was used for the benefit of those who were hearing impaired – but my mom didn’t understand that it was done in translation.  She thought it was some kind of symbolism that she was expected to memorize as a temple patron.

          Neither my mom’s parents nor dad’s parents were able to attend the temple with their children or see them get married.  There was an acquaintance there to assist mom.  Other than that she really didn’t know anyone – except for my dad – who was newly attending the temple himself.  It would be years before they returned.

          Patrick went through the temple a year and a half before I did.  Mom thought I would be nervous – but I wasn’t.  I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I remember that I didn’t find it there.  I think I was expecting it to be more special than it was.  But there was nothing there that doesn’t already exist in the scriptures.  I don’t know if disappointing is the correct term, but I didn’t feel the empowering Spirit or experience the sensational wonder that so many others have claimed and continue to feel. 

          I suppose there are a few times that I have felt uplifted and at peace.  But more often than not it’s just a routine experience or an actual hurtful event for me.  I think the last two times I actually felt put off and I guess that’s why I don’t miss it.

          I actually have quite a few memories about the temple – such as when both Corey and Kayla had gone through for the first time, or the many marriage ceremonies (including my own) that I’ve attended.  But out of respect to the Church and those who attend the temple, I will end my post here.  For even though I personally have not felt the awesomeness that many others have had (and will continue to have) there still is a definite sacredness that shouldn’t be tarnished upon the Internet.  And it’s not something that everybody is going to “get” anyway no matter how I try to explain it – which actually may cause deeper regrets on my end.

          I’m grateful to the enthusiasm that others have shared and for their desire to attend as often as possible.  It’s just not there for me.  Never has been.  Even when I was trying to attend regularly.

Looking for Letters in the Mail: Introducing My Child to a Lost Art

          I don’t know that pen palling is really a lost art.  It just seems with the internet and facebook and email and such – the written letters seem to be a thing of the past.

          Earlier I created this post.  Jenna and her cousin Melody had promised to write one another every day.  And for an entire week Jenna really did – though I did not mail on a daily basis.  I would accumulate and then mail.

          I ended up sending two or three pieces of mail.  Jenna was really disappointed that Melody hadn’t written back.  I actually believe that Melody did write – perhaps every day in the beginning – but I don’t believe it was a priority for either mom or dad to address the envelope and put a stamp on it.  Thus they never got mailed.

          For a while I would leave letters in the box for Jenna.  They had all been signed, “Your Secret Friend”. She had actually given Melody the credit and has written back to her.  Still nothing from Melody though.

          And so I went on a pen pal search.  I Googled and brought up some sites – some wanted money – though not a lot.  I’m cheap and still looked for another alternate.  And I found a blog site that gave the suggestion of finding friends through friends.

          I have several friends on facebook who live out of state – there are even a couple that live out of the country – but until Jenna is willing to build up her vocabulary and actually write more than two sentences, I am not willing to pay over a dollar per ½ ounce sent.  So we are remaining in the states for the time being.

          As of now she is up to seven pen pals.  Six have written back.  Two are actually facebook friends who are many years older than Jenna (one actually closer to my age) and a distant cousin and none she’s ever met.

          But it is truly a joy to watch her excitement as she retrieves any mail that has her name on it.  Two Halloween cards.  And lots of treasures – the latest with a bonus letter – because even though the initial letter was sent to Paul, his younger sister saw Jenna’s picture and decided that she was beautiful and would like to write to her herself. 

          Interestingly enough, Paul and Jenna each attend a school with the very same name. They both like music, singing, acting and arts.  He writes how his three sisters drive him crazy and she wrote back that her three brothers drive her bananas – which is actually not true.

          Biff is the only one who lives with us.  True, he does get on her nerves at times, but that is because he works graveyards and thus likes to sleep during the day – which often is a challenge as Jenna is usually so loud and dramatic.

          Randy (the most mature of my three boys) drops by occasionally to use the computer.  He is very gentle with her and speaks kindly to her and often challenges her intellect.  (Not to say that Biff isn’t kind – but he’s definitely not as gentle.  Pokes and teases her – and she is mostly never in the mood)

We rarely see Tony as he is in another state. Jenna adores him.  I don’t think he has ever driven her bonkers – but then again . . . I can remember them arguing in the backseat of the car as though they were two five year olds – what is really sad as that they are sixteen years apart.

          Jenna was off school yesterday and again today.  We will send letters to at least four friends this weekend.  And if we get another letter, we will just add to the friendship list.

Don’t Yell at Aunt Gertrude

         Somebody had suggested that someone take a mom for a drive to look at the fall.  Knowing my own vehicle wasn’t going to make it up the canyon (it actually was too sluggish to get near the base) I chose an alternate, perhaps a more scenic route and asked if she would like to visit my 91 year old great-aunt. 

          Aunt Trudy has ALWAYS been active.  Over the years she has become hard of hearing, but she is still sharp as ever with brand new driver’s license in hand.  She was so excited to see my mom and me (as it has been a while) and we visited just briefly.

          “Well, it was so good to see you,” my mom kept on saying – as though we’d be leaving fairly soon.  What was her problem?

          Aunt Trudy would ask a question which mom would answer – but in her quiet voice and then I would loudly repeat it for Aunt Trudy.  Mom excused herself again.  “Well, I need to get back home.”

          “What do you need to get home for?” I asked.

          “I just need to go home!” she yelled.

          “I guess our visit is over,” I said to Aunt Trudy, while trying my hardest to use an apologetic tone and expression.

          It hadn’t dawned on me until almost three hours later that my voice raising or yelling was the cause of what was bothering mom.  Corey confirmed that when he said she didn’t like loud noises.  That would explain the tension between her and Jenna – though all of us have complained that Jenna’s volume really can get too loud.  Our level of tolerance seems to be more civil than my mom’s. She gets frailer with each passing day.

          Daddy was frail before he left this earth.  But he still had his mind.  Mom’s physical condition is okay, but her mind is not.  That’s a lot harder, I think.  On us anyway.  I think it’s hard on her – but not the same way that physical pain is. Soon she’ll forget that there was any emotional pain.  She’ll resort back to a place where we just won’t be able to find her.  Often she already thinks that I grew up with her in San Francisco and is always surprised when she asks me and I tell her that I have never lived in San Francisco, only visited.

          I need to visit Aunt Trudy again – but without mom or with mom on one side of the room and me on the other.  I think I ought to invite Kayla and her two to come with me.  I don’t know that Aunt Trudy has ever seen Garrett.

Never Judge a Book by Its Cover

Another example that illustrates the title of my blog

what lies beneath could bear an element of surprise

Beneath the Wraps

We Love Andrew Clements

Fortunately for me (at least in this point in time), Jenna likes to experiment with things that she’s watched or read. The latest comes from a book “No Talking" by Andrew Clements.  A boy, interested in Ghandi, decides to experiment with no talking.  His experiment eventually turns into a contest between the fifth grade girls and boys – which group can go the longest without talking for two whole days?

This sounded quite probable to Jenna – who not only talks quite a bit but does it rather LOUDLY despite everyone’s efforts to get her to tone it down.  I have told her countless times that it really is possible to be excited without being loud.  I don’t necessarily want her to stop talking, but it would be nice to have volume control.

So (as we are reading this book) I look at her and say, “I bet you wouldn’t even make it for twelve hours without talking.”  She has taken me up on my offer.  Her first attempt was on Labor Day.  She did 3 and a half hours without saying more than 20 words. Her attempt the following Saturday was even more pathetic.

          I introduced Jenna to Andrew Clements just this year.  I like his stories for the most part.  I read one called “Extra Credit” about letter correspondence between a sixth grade girl from the United States and a fifth grade boy (via his younger sister) from Afghanistan.  Of course with that, Jenna wants the opportunity to have a foreign pen pal.  Now there’s a dying art – correspondence through the post office and not just email or facebook.

          We checked out some books on CD for her to listen to while she’s supposed to be sleeping.  So far she likes Andrew Clements books the best.

          Last night we went over the sign language alphabet. This morning she has decided to experiment with “No Talking” once again.  Just in case she should actually make it into the school without having said a word (though I did say that Spanish is permitted) I sent a warning to each of her teachers should they call on her.  I think it will be quite awesome if she actually does make it for more than four hours.  (Though our initial bet was twelve)

“Go Ahead . . . I’m Napkin Man”

My brother Corey has many talents.  One he started early on was with drawing comics.  He would entertain himself for hours on end drawing his comics and then reading them. 

          One year he received a giant drawing pad and a green ballpoint pen for Christmas.  He had filled the pad in less than two days.  By day three, the pen was out of ink. 

          One of his comic series I think was similar to “Spy Vs. Spy” - which eventually turned into a game between him and my brother Patrick, though it did not last long.

          Patrick read one of Corey’s comic strips and imitated his style as he added to it and killed off the characters in different ways and Corey would always resurrect them.  Some of the deaths were challenging to overcome, but I think it was fun for both of them for a while.

          The funniest comic that I remember happened after my dad had had a series of strokes.  I don’t even know where we were – perhaps on our way to the airport to see Corey off or maybe when we had stopped off for lunch on our way to the MTC.

          I don’t know what made Corey feel the need to draw during that time, but he had drawn a caped superhero on a napkin with the caption: “Go ahead.  Blow your nose in me.  I can handle it.  I’m napkin man” and then gave his drawing to my dad who obviously needed a napkin.

          I don’t remember if my dad laughed about it or not.  I think so.  I laughed.  I thought it was funny.  I still smile when I think about this unique memory.

Inside Jokes and Saturday Morning Cartoons

          When Roland has been out of town (which really has not been too often) I will allow Jenna to sleep in my bed. 

          At 6:00 last night she went toward her room and announced that she’d be going to bed – which I really didn’t believe until I saw her in her pajamas.  She had returned to ask if she could watch something in my room.  She really was tired – I could see that the second time.  I knew she wouldn’t finish seeing whatever video she chose. 

          She loves the reality show “What WouldYou Do?”  which doesn’t start until 8:00.  By that time I decided I would go into my room as well.  I turned off the DVD player and turned the TV to ABC and got in bed.  Jenna was asleep. 

          Then comes the advertisement for “What Would You Do?” and Jenna comes to life.  She’s not the only one who’s tired – and actually has more focus during the show and I am the one nodding off. 

          An advertisement came on for a hamburger – I don’t recall which fast food place it is for but the logo says, “It’s not as expensive as you think” – although I’m guessing we heard it wrong.

          I actually had not paid attention to the commercial, but guessed that maybe that’s how it was phrased when Jenna turned to me and asked, “Why would they advertise something is more expensive than you think?”

          It struck me funny – and I continued laughing as I would imitate, “you may think you can afford this – but it’s more expensive than you think.”

          I tried to control my laughter – but kept on going out of tiredness more than anything.  Jenna became offended with my taunting and making fun of her error.  To make her feel better, I shared one of my own.

          “Have you seen those lights that blink – they are usually located far above the ground to warn planes that they are flying too low?  If the pilot can see the light, he knows he has to make the plane go higher.

          “Well, one time I was asking about one that I saw, but I said the wrong thing.  I asked if it was a warning for planes that were flying too high.

          “Of course Patrick and his friend couldn’t let that slide and so they teased me about it. ‘Yes, it is a warning for pilots who might be flying into the sun.’  ‘Watch out for the sun!’ It was a long while before they stopped teasing me about it”

          And so the joke that Jenna and I now share between us is that she will say, “Look out! You’re going to hit the sun.”  And I will come back with, “It’s more expensive than you think.”

          This morning she starts in with our new inside joke.  I am still tired.  And so I turn on the TV.  The cartoon selection is quite different on Saturday than it is before she leaves for school.  A wide selection of preschool programs.  The ones shared by the main networks have not started yet.  That leaves some kind of Sci-Fi and a Biblical story.  I select the one from the BYU channel.

          As she is watching the story of Joseph, she interrupts my sleep again, “Mom, is this the same story as “Little Joe” from “Veggie Tales” 

          “Yes”

          “They don’t have French accents though”

          “Jenna.  This version is more accurate than Veggie Tales.  Please let me sleep.”

          Joseph ends.  She’s not interested in the workout video that follows.  I hand her the remote. 

          She settles on a pre-school program that is broadcast in Spanish – and then translates it for me.  I’m grateful that she has learned new language skills and that she is actually grateful (for a change) to be learning Spanish – and actually has been excited about it!  I am so happy to hear that!

Our First Morning Walk in the Crisp Air

          Other than the political campaigns that take place every year, Fall is, without a doubt, my most favorite season.  I haven’t walked Highness in the morning for over four months now. 

          Unless I’m willing to get up between four and five a.m. it has just been too hot to walk him.  Okay, it wasn’t too hot to take him at 6:00 last month – and I was up.  But I was up with Roland and getting ready to wake Jenna.  Highness was just not a high priority for me.

          I don’t enjoy walking him in my own neighborhood all that much.  For one thing, there just isn’t much in the way of sidewalks – and I’m just not that comfortable walking in the street.  Plus my neighborhood is actually kind of boring.  There’re a few friendly people, but for the most part it doesn’t seem like a very warm environment to be in.  Sometimes I feel like I could pass out in the middle of the street and the only people who would notice would just drive around me and roll their eyes or shake their fists or swear because of the inconvenience.

          I like walking the dog around my daughter’s school.  Several neighborhoods and two parks surround Vantana Elementary.  It’s quite inviting and the people are pleasant.  And there are sidewalks.  The only time we have to be on the road is if we choose to cross it.

          But with the other things going on in my life right now – mainly the hours that seem to be increasing with my mother – walking Highness has been put on the back burner.  Often we’ll go out night between 6:30 and 7:00 – but it is never a long walk.  Poor Highness.

          This morning I had to use the defroster in the car (less than two hours later I was back to the A/C)

          I wore a sweatshirt and wore my hair down.  Before I got home I could feel my heavy hair weighing down on my neck.  Time to tie it back.

          Roland ALWAYS has his covers on.  And I usually don’t have any.  I slept on his side of the bed last night and discovered it really is a lot cooler on his side.  Weird.  It’s not like we have a super king size bed that stretches the whole length of an enormous room.  But there does seem to a difference in temperature. 

          Of course he is closer to the window and the vent (I absolutely DIE when the vent is on) and we still have our A/Cs up – doesn’t get used near as much as they did during the summer.  But there are some days when it still remains on 2-5 hours.  Would be more economical if we could just open the windows or the doors.  Unfortunately the only screen that protects us from the animals (namely insects) that may want to wander in, is in the bathroom just off of Roland’s and my room.  This house could really stand a new makeover.

          Anyway, the walk was certainly a good one.  Both Highness and I found the view and the air refreshing.  I think he actually enjoyed it more than I did – and could have gone for a lot longer.  But I do have other things that needed my attention.  

Staying on the Same Page

          Communication is SO important – whether it is the working place, or homes, our churches, our communities . . . and it’s important that we all stay on the same page.  We need consistency. 

          I recall one work place that made egg salad sandwiches.  Some of the workers would put pickles into the mixture, while others refused because they thought it was gross.  I don’t care if the egg salad has pickles or not.  When I am in a working environment I would expect to make the egg salad according to what the customer orders from the menu and expects – not to my own personal preference.  I think when a customer expects a certain product, he or she should receive the same product or courtesy or satisfaction that kept him or her coming back to begin with.

          I know different cooks have their own personalities and styles.  I am a wimp when it comes to anything remotely spicy – and so I have learned (well – back when I was single and had money) to ask which chef is in the kitchen before I place my order for there was one who would use every spice in the kitchen I believe and lots of it, while the other probably was not a favorite among those who really do enjoy authentic Mexican food.  It needs to be consistent.  The recipe must be followed exactly the same in my opinion.

          Food is just a very small issue of what needs to be communicated.  I hate being told one thing by one employee or parent or teacher or representative or what have you and being told something completely different by somebody else.  Opinions are often brought in by individuals who pass on their opinions that others accept as gospel truth – even when it’s not.

          I recall failing a class that I had tried to transfer into.  I was livid when I received a failing grade.  Why couldn’t have anybody said anything to me before hand?  I was on the roles already.  On the school record – but they failed to give it to me on the schedule that was handed out.  You think the teacher would have recognized the name from her rolls when I tried to transfer in.  It did not fly well.  I don’t recall there being any problems in my scheduling after that incident.

          I do have a have a similar situation story to share – only it didn’t happen to me personally.  Just someone I knew. It took place in the MTC (missionary training center) nearly 30 years ago (though I’m sure the same still occurs even now – perhaps not weekly, but maybe once in a while) I’m not including his first name in the story, but the last name is real.

          Elder Lovett had arrived on September 6 because that’s what it said on his papers – only those receiving the missionaries that day were actually not expecting Elder Lovett until the following week.  Fortunately he had his letter and showed them that it was indeed the date he’d been assigned to report.  But because there was an error in communication on whatever part, Elder Lovett hadn’t been assigned a companion (partner) or room or books or what have you.

          Six elders had been assigned to our district.  Four had been assigned to one room designed for four people.  The other two elders were also in a room designed for four – but one side remained empty.  So Elder Lovett was assigned to partner up with the latter two.  Six Elders would be serving in Fresno, California.  Elder Lovett was assigned to West Virginia.

          He shared these events with us during our third class (I think) when once more the instructor would say: “Turn to page H5” (for example) and all of us would turn to the assigned page – including Elder Lovett – but he would never be able to follow along.  I think it must have been during that third class the instructor suggested a page that just didn’t exist among the pages that Elder Lovett’s had in his possession.

          “It’s just my book.  They must have gone to the warehouse and retrieved this off some old dusty shelf.  This is out of date.”  I know for a fact that we have been asked to discard old material as it is updated.  Apparently the books that Elder Lovett had been given weren’t as discarded as they should have been.

          Perhaps his situation prepared him to be a stronger leader.  He definitely understood the importance of communication.  Elder Lovett had his first opportunity as district leader serving with us in the MTC.  He was great – throughout his entire mission I would imagine.  I actually never saw him or heard from him again after leaving the MTC. 

          There is the miscommunication between family members.  Just before Tony got married, I had called Roland’s family to inform them about when the event was scheduled to take place and what might be involved for those waiting outside the temple. 

          I was experiencing problems with my cell phone and had made some remark about my frustration.  Unbeknownst to me, the family had me on speaker phone – and whatever snide remark I made (in regards to my cell phone) somehow was interpreted to mean that I did not want them (mom in particular) to come . . . and whatever it was that I said got blown out of proportion as family members related the events to other family members until I realized that Roland’s brother was slamming him on facebook; his brother was not even a part of the initial family I was calling. 

I noticed one of Roland’s sisters had also been misinformed about the events that would take place when their oldest sister died.  Why not just listen and repeat before we jump the gun on something that was just not communicated correctly?

         

I am grateful to those who do take the time to at least try.  However their attempts to assist are not always profitable when the communication among the employees to employees are even worse than employee to customer. (as I have mentioned in this earlier post) 

Roland is great at having people and communication skills – problem is not all of those he attempts to communicate with possess the same talent.  And that is sad. It’s sad that so many have become and accept ignorance.  Ignorance is NOT professional.

And machines that talk to you instead of a human being?  Oh, don’t even get me started.  Talk about impersonal – and yet it seems that so many business have picked up on it and wreak havoc on the consumer’s life even more. 

Bless the company that gives you a live human being to begin with. Especially when that human is able to communiacate!

Those dreaded Orange barrels

          Jenna’s favorite color used to be pink.  But now she says that it’s orange.  I like orange sunset and flowers such as poppies and marigolds.  I suppose when it’s from Mother Nature’s paint brush. Then it appeals to me – but I don’t care for orange clothing and I get irked by orange barrels, polycones and flashing barricades & signs because it’s a message implying delayed traffic, construction ahead and so forth.

          It’s not so bad when it doesn’t become a permanent part of the road – but day after day, month after month, even year after year in the same spot – which is usually the case.

          Both my mom and I live off main and always busy streets.  The street near where she lives has been under construction for at least eight months to two years and doesn’t appear that it will be finished any time soon.  Christmas time was the worst.  Hello – like turning onto (or even off) that street isn’t challenging enough.  Let’s add some cones and barrels to the scene and really give the public a run for its money.  What a madhouse (mad street?)

          When I recently turned off my neighborhood street onto the main road I saw orange barrels were set up blocking the lane I normally turn into.  “NO!” I thought.  No.  I am elated to say that they had moved by the time I returned less than three hours later (insert smile face)

          For the most part I take as many back roads as possible getting to my destination.  And when I would go visit my mom, I had a back road route so that I only had to cross the street under construction.  But my back way has gotten worse than the street I am trying to avoid.  And so I have taken alternate routes – alternate out of my way routes.  I understand the necessity of construction.  At the same time I am so annoyed by it.

          And then there’s the route to my daughter’s school.  For three years now – the same exact area is lined with orange barrels from August – September.  Really.  I don’t understand.  I suppose I’ll have to take a different route for two months. *sigh* 

          I do notice overall that the city seems to move a lot faster than the county.  Not always.  Summer is near its end (here’s hoping anyway) and more polycones and orange barrels have seemed to pop up here and there.  Why?  It is always a challenge to find a road without construction.  But what a great reward it is when it is found.

Who Are You? and Can You Stay?

          Dementia is a thief which robs the mind and interferes with the souls of all associated.  Last week mom was living in another world for the most part.  This weekend hit hard.  The way it’s been described to me, it sounds like she lost was between worlds – panicked at not being able to communicate.  Just not getting a grasp on anything.  Being transported to another dimension is bad enough – the “between worlds” thing is worse overall – at least from my viewpoint.

          Probably all of us, at some point in our lives, have seen the child that just isn’t understanding direction and becomes more and more frustrated with himself or the instructor or the other kids or what have you.  He throws a tantrum and won’t allow himself to be rational.  And the harder we try to explain or understand, the more irrational the child becomes. That is what the “between worlds” is like.

          Even before the Dementia set in, mom seemed to favor Corey over the rest of us – not that she meant to (or means to) but it just seems that way.  And now with the dementia, it seems much of her world revolves around Corey who is able to get her to do things (even over the phone from another state) than the rest of us have.  But evidently I became the favored one on Saturday.  She was in a very confused place and couldn’t seem to get out of it.

          Sunny had dropped off a small bag of items that she wanted me to have.  The idea was for me to retrieve it from mom’s house on my next visit.  But mom had it in her head that the bag needed to be in my possession RIGHT NOW.

          When she couldn’t get a hold of me by phone, she decided that she would walk to my house.  One does not walk to my house from hers – not unless one wants to make a day of it.  (I's about 20 minutes by car in regular traffic) She’s been to my house twice – but always with somebody.  She didn’t know where I lived before dementia robbed her of her memory.  She doesn’t even recognize the city name when I tell her.

          But for convenience, her mind has moved many into her neighborhood – often just up or down the street.  As she left the house, my nephew-in-law followed to make certain she didn’t get lost.  I don’t know if she ever found where she thought my house was.  I’m thinking not.

          Nate and Ellen had a dinner appointment with my youngest son and his wife – but because of “grandma’s” strange behavior, they didn’t want to leave her alone.  And so Ellen called Sunny and told her about “grandma’s” strange behavior and how she was a bit concerned and freaked out at the idea of leaving her alone.  And so Sunny and her two youngest stayed with mom while Ellen and Nate went to dinner.  Sunny said my mom talked about me and my visits and was very anxious about seeing me again but couldn’t get a hold of me (mom had finally gotten a hold of me before Nate and Ellen had gone to dinner; we had talked for a few minutes)

          Her mind was still quite distorted the next night when she called again.  She misdialed and had meant to call Corey, whom she thought was having car problems and was quite worried about him.  I knew she was frantic and too far away to calm her down. 

          I called Corey to ask if mom was worrying for nothing.  He said he was on his way home and would be to mom’s in about ten minutes.  I called her back.  She was so relieved – like the child who has been missing her tangible security (a blanket, a toy) but finally gets it back.  I still wish I could have embraced her in person and not just over the phone.

          The thief took a vacation only a few days this week – I had hoped for something more permanent, but knew that is all it was.  A HOPE.  And I don’t know what makes her personality change from visit to visit – the distorted mind last week, the turmoil and frustration set in her own mind this weekend, and the still forgetful but almost normal yesterday and the day before.  Even this afternoon over the phone – but not in person.  The theif returned.  Dementia hasn’t robbed only her – it’s taken from all of us.  I want dementia behind bars PERMENANTLY!

Our cracker box of a house

          I’m really not a kitchen person.  That would be my husband’s domain.  I thought I’d be happy with just a hot plate. I’m actually loathing our kitchen which consumes of more than just a hot plate.

          First of all it was designed for tall thin people – neither of which I am – though I was thin at one time.  I obviously blew out – but was never up.

When we first moved in I figured I could put the food away or I could put dishes away – but there is no way I could reach both areas.  As I seem to be the only one in the household who is capable of doing dishes, I chose to fill my reaching area with dishes.

          I used to refer to it as a trailer kitchen – though I have been in much roomier trailer kitchens since we moved in.  My husband called it a Galley – though I believe there is more elbow room in your average galley.  I kid you not – if there is more than one person (not to mention the dog) in the kitchen, we are literally in each other’s way – unless of course one is cooking and the other is doing dishes.  If the fridge is opened, someone is in the way. 

          Now the person who designed the kitchen must have decided that eating and preparing were done at the same time – while standing.  I don’t know where homeowners were expected to sit – seriously.  There is no dining room to speak of.  So we have a table right next to the sliding door and across from the pantry (realistically a closet with two shelves). 

My husband loves to have company over.  So if anyone is sitting at the table and someone needs to exit the kitchen – the chairs are in the way.  I have seriously gone out the sliding door and gone around through the front door (but only if the front room is my destination) just to avoid inconveniencing everyone else – yet someone is always inconvenienced.  Trying to get to the bathroom is an entirely different story. Our house was not designed for company.  It was barely designed to live in – although the bedrooms are actually really nice sizes.

Beside our stove are the washer and the dryer.  Another piece of work.  Trying to do laundry.  Can’t sort it in the kitchen.  Can’t open the back door fully because the dryer is in the way.  I really want to hook the washer and dryer up on the opposite side of the wall – which is on the outside currently.  How great it would be to make a room outside.  I don’t even care if it’s insulated or not at this point.  Make a laundry room and eventually use a separate wall to move the table to.  We’ll have to lose the sliding door.  Oh, well. 

          Oh, that’s another area where a lot of thought was given – whoever installed the sliding door.  I’ve been in houses where the sliding door wouldn’t lock and a broomstick was inserted between the slide and the wall to prevent the door from sliding.  Not in our house.  The lip where you would put the broom handle is actually on the outside of the house.  Good job!

          We do have two bathrooms.  Now that’s a plus.  Well – one bathroom with bath included and one with just a sink and toilet.  But still – we didn’t have two toilets in our much larger house and we really needed a second one.  Our one bathroom was larger though – probably both of our current bathrooms combined.  But the tub over here is a little bit larger than the turkey pan sized tub that we had at our first house.   

          We do have a problem with the water pressure however.  Sometimes we have to flush and plunge at the same time.  Or we have to take the porcelain top off the tank and push the plug down.  Oh, the joys of using the bathroom.

          Then there’s the heat.  The furnace seems to want to heat up the living room – and as there is no ventilation, the bedroom gets hot.  Very HOT.  Or we can leave the fireplace running (it’s electric) and warm the front room and the furnace thinks since that room is warm that the whole house must be.  And then our room stays cold.  I would rather have it cold than hot.

 

          I suppose I shouldn’t complain as we’ve had several homeless people wandering the streets with their shopping carts (especially on garbage day).  Too many people are down on their luck.  For how much longer?

          I’ve seen houses offering a lot less than what we have for a much larger price.  We actually have quite a good deal as far as rent/mortgage is concerned.  So I know we are blessed.  Sometimes I have a tendency to overlook that.

          I look forward to the day when we can afford a luxurious bathroom with a human sized tub and Richard can have his luxurious kitchen.  That would be great!  When no one is down on his luck and that everyone can have his own place. Right now I am trying to be more gracious about what we’ve got.