Chick Magnet

Karl is such a good son. He takes Dair to NC to visit her home several times a month. While in NC, they visit folks at the nursing home and Dair's friend who works at the library. I usually stay home during these trips since we've got a child and dogs that need to be looked after. However, I may need to start going along on these trips. Karl told me recently that having Dair along is like having a puppy. When they go out to eat and Dair excuses herself to go to the restroom, all the attractive waitresses stop by and tell him "how cute and spunky" they find Dair.

Don't Vote For Me

Even though Dair has excellent hearing aids, she often has trouble hearing what is said to her, especially on the phone. We have encouraged her to just let the answering machine pick up when no one else is around to answer it, but she just can't stand to let a phone ring. So, she answers, and then yells to the person on the other end; frustrating for all involved. I have to admit that I do enjoy it when she talks to the telemarketers. The other night I couldn't get to the phone before she did, and I realized that it was someone working on behalf of the presidential campaign. I was doubled over with laughter as she carried on a long conversation with this poor campaign volunteer, telling him all about her personal life. Then she finally told him, "No, I don't want to be President."

Sights That Should Never Be Seen

We had some friends over recently to sit around our fire pit in the back yard. It was one of those nights when everyone's kids were out doing whatever it is teenagers do to avoid hanging out with their parents, so it was just adults around the fire pit. It was a lovely evening, and after a while, Dair went in the house to get ready for bed. Usually she says she's getting ready for bed, but then she reappears frequently for the next couple of hours, no closer to turning in for the night. Well, I guess she was pooped this particular night, because she actually did change into her pj's. We learned this when the teenage sons of our guests dropped by and were greeted at the front door by Dair in nothing but a sports bra and Depends. I guess we'll be paying for the boys' psychotherapy in a few years!

Can't Teach an Old Dog New Tricks

A couple of years ago Dair's biggest medical complaint was that she had to urinate frequently. Also, if she coughed or sneezed, she'd wet her pants. We talked to her doctor about it and he suggested limiting beverages and cutting out chocolate in the evening, but Dair would still have to get up several times during the night to go to the bathroom. On another visit to the doctor we asked about medication that might help the problem, but it would diminish the benefits of Dair's memory medication, so that wasn't an option. Finally the doctor scheduled a visit with the continence specialist at the VA. She was a delightful young Navy veteran who truly admired Dair's spunk. This doctor suggested certain exercises, Kegels,to tighten the muscles in the area. She held up a mannequin of a female torso in cross section and pointed out the muscles involved. Dair stretched out a finger and gingerly touched the mannequin, withdrawing her finger quickly and giggling a bit. Then the doctor gave Dair instructions for the exercise, and asked her to try it. Dair inhaled deeply, counted to 10, then exhaled. It was clear that she didn't have a clue what to do, however, we went home and tried to work on them. Dair would attempt the exercises, giggling the entire time, but never accomplishing the goal. We finally gave up and bought Depends.

Literal, Not Figurative

Dair was born and raised in a small western North Carolina town, and inherited the house her parents built there. The two original rooms of the house date to 1905, while the other five rooms, all of dubious quality, were added over the years and are in pretty sad condition. When she retired and sold her house in Atlanta, Dair purchased a single-wide mobile home and parked it next to the old house. At first, this was just a weekend place for her, but eventually she returned to it full time. Meanwhile, she deeded the old house to her son, Karl, and her grandson, Steve. When we first married, Karl and I spent lots of time painting and repairing the old place, and spent many weekends there. The house has no heat or air conditioning, so in the winter, Karl drains water from the pipes and fills them with anitfreeze. Each spring, the process is reversed and the house is liveable - sort of. Staying there is just one step up from camping! Last weekend Karl made his first trip of the spring to check on the house and cut the grass. He took Dair with him so she could visit her place and make the rounds with her friends. The threat of rain forced him to cut the grass before doing any other chores. While he was mowing, Dair walked up to Karl and handed him a washcolth she was holding, telling him, "Here's my s*it." Apparently she had decided to use the toilet in the old house, though the water was still shut off. Then realizing the toilet wouldn't flush, she had retrieved her load with a washcloth. Karl related the story to me later. I sighed and responded, "What a nightmare." His reply, "No s*it. I'm pooped after the whole episode."

Mind Reader

After being chronic visitors to a church we really like, we finally moved our membership there. Seriously, we've been visiting for a dozen years, and even stayed after the founding preacher moved on to another position. The current pastor has been there about a year, so we actually have more history with the church than he does.

That didn't stop the welcoming committee from recently inviting us to a gathering of new church members. So, Karl and I went to the party, and Dair went along. After spending a good deal of time eating snacks and chatting, we were all asked to sit in a large circle and briefly introduce ourselves, sharing a bit about our church background. The second person to speak was a lovely lady from Africa who has a very heavy accent. She's from a part of Africa that has seen a lot of strife, and her story, though interesting, was a bit long, and her accent made it difficult to make out every word. After a few minutes of this, Dair muttered quite loudly, and a bit angrily, "Cut it to five [minutes]."

Sure, it was what every person in the room was thinking, but did she have to say it out loud?

Landscaping Architect

Dair loves to putter in the yard. She picks up small limbs and tosses them into the woods. The dogs and cat follow her around and keep her company. It's good exercise for Dair and keeps her occupied.

Unfortunately, she also likes to rearrange my collection of "yard art." One day I discovered a little terra cotta bunny had moved from his normal spot to the middle of the birdbath. I put the bunny back where he belonged, and later the same day he was sitting on a garden wall. A large seashell that I placed on the ground near a planter keeps getting put inside the planter.

One day I discovered that Dair had blocked the small gaps on either side of the gate at the back of the yard. She had noticed that our kitten could get through these openings and head out into the woods. He always came back, but it bothered Dair that he could get out, so she decided to fix that problem. She rounded up an old wheelbarrow tire, a citronella candle, some clippings from the Christmas tree, and a half rotten ear of corn from the compost pile and stuck them into the gaps at the gate.

Something about the whole "white trash" look of the arrangement just set me off. I immediately tore the mess down and threw it away. Dair saw me do this and got furious. She stomped away, whacking things with her walking cane and muttering, "s**t, s**t, g**da**it."

Guess we have different tastes when it comes to landscaping.