Blogger feed is not feeding

Are you like me and trying to fight your way through all these technology updates? My blogger feed has crashed and I have looked everywhere I can think of to find the problem with no solution. So this is a test to see if this blog goes through. No pictures, no formatting, no links. I have had this problem before and managed to fix it. Anyone else going through the same thing now? Magic wand in air and ready to  press the button and send.

My Mother's Shoes

My mother always used to lay out her clothes the night before she went to the doctor so I was not surprised to see her planned outfit hanging neatly from her closet door. I looked carefully over her choices; a long moss green skirt with matching jacket, and a short-sleeved beige summer blouse.  It has been cold and raining here so I was satisfied with her slightly autumn choices and thought nothing more of it. Big mistake! 

My mother 30 years ago

Now you are probably going to think it was a beautiful hot summer day when I took her to the doctor. Wrong, it was cold and raining yesterday which was slightly disturbing. It was going to be hard enough navigating her around. Remember she hasn’t been out of the house for years, the left side of her body has never fully recovered after her stroke and she walks with a cane. What was disturbing was the fact that she was waiting for me fully dressed, but had no shoes on her feet. I had forgotten about her feet, and I should have known better. I mean let’s face it; shoes have not been a big priority for someone who never leaves the house. Her loafers have not fit her for a long time so she only wears slippers.

We were already running a little late and none of my shoes fit her. Since I don’t have a closet (haven’t had one for years, yep…renovations…sigh,) I scurried around the house trying to locate my scattered shoes and then I tried them on my mom’s feet as if she were Cinderella. Finally I caught a glimpse of my bright blue trusty crocs under the coffee table. Thank god, they saved the day.

 

We did eventually get to the doctor and my mother, bless her soul, blamed having to borrow her daughter’s shoes for her wobbly walk. I will write more on this series of coping with dementia later.

This week-end my husband is dressing up like one of the Beatles characters from Serg. Pepper’s Lonely Heart Clubs Band, and he is preforming with the choir for their yearly summer concert. Maybe I will be able to get you some video of that. So what are your plans for the week-end? Whatever they are I hope you have fun doing them!

Tearing it all Down: Death and Dying

This is post number 400 and this one I am about to share with you is difficult for me so I need to tell it slowly.

Poison can seep inside you like a lusty spider crawling into your ear while you are asleep. At first you only get a hint or two of something being wrong. You ignore those until the poison is so obvious that you have to get medicine or die. 

Yep, that's me 1962

My mother has become that spider. She is slowly sucking the life out of me with her poison and no matter how hard I try to find medicine for my condition I keep finding an empty pharmacy. You would think that by now there would be a medicine that would prevent a person from having to suffer through the decay of a parent.  Maybe there is but I have not found it. Alzheimer’s is a hard thing for anyone to swallow, especially when it affects the person you love the most, your mother and your best friend.

She has been the center of my universe for as long as I can remember. A mother usually is. With the looks and charms of Grace Kelly this Norwegian beauty could have had any man but when she found out that she was pregnant with me she desperately grabbed her chance at a better life far away from Norway. She married a charming American, one that was not my father, but one that she had been dating and more importantly, one that was available. You have to remember that in 1957 moral conduct was viewed differently. A woman in Norway did not just get an abortion or raise a child on her own.

For the first time in three years since my mother had her stroke I am going to take her for a drive, the first time she has gone any further than her front door. As I am writing this I still wonder if I will get her out of the door and into the car. I have finally made a stand and it was not an easy thing to do. 

“Either you go to the doctor or you go to a nursing home because I cannot do this alone anymore.”

Many words were shouted and tears fell in secret, as they still do. There are other members in this “household” but they turn their head and say, “Deal with your mother on your own. “ I really can’t blame them because she has alienated everyone in her family. I am the only one she ever talks to anymore. She has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with her children, her grandchildren or anyone else. She has no friends, no hobbies except the television and daily newspaper. This is not the woman I remember.

The worst part is that we are living in the same house. Every single day my husband, my son and I have to share the same space with a woman that has changed from something beautiful into a troll. My mother has turned the walls of this household into deadly mold and everyone within these walls is breathing it in. I really hope that I can get her out of the door and into the doctor’s office and that he will be like the Wizard of Oz and give her some magic pills that will return her into the world of the living. If not, maybe he can give me some pills to deal with this.

I will keep you posted. If you have any words of advice on how to deal with a parent who is forgetting your name I would love to hear it! More of this story to come...........

Just a Dreamer

Anthony Bourdain must have the best job in the world. Can you imagine what it would be like traveling around the world, eating exciting cuisine and writing about it?  I love food, I love traveling and I love writing. What is your dream job? Are you living it? 

One morning I woke up and looked at this half-finished home renovation project that I have been staring at for the past ten years and I realized I am so tired of talking about paint colors and paint brushes, floor tiles and shrubs that it was making me sick. I used to love to paint…the artsy kind, landscapes and portraits…now painting just means walls and doors and I have come to hate it. I used to love working in the garden, now the only thing left of my garden is weeds and dirt. 

Remodeling has its price and sometimes, like me, you might ask yourself…are dreams of something better worth the price paid? Of course they are. We all have days when we are swallowing half empty glasses, when we look around us and realize that our dreams are taking longer than we expected, or that they have changed completely.

Don’t give up. Some of your dreams may change and some may take longer than you planned but ask yourself, what is the alternative? A world without dreamers would be very black and white.

http://iardacil.deviantart.com/art/Dreamer-88947491

So I may never be a food critic and author like Anthony Bourdain. With that said I am off to chase my next dream. While I am waiting to hear back from my editor and finish off the details of my first book Secrets of the Ash Tree, it is time to start writing my second book in the series “Gods and Fairy Tales.” Hopefully this one won’t take two years to finish. Want to know the title of that book? I have some ideas but for now I am keeping it a closely guarded secret.

Tell me, what are your dreams? I would love to help them come true if I can! Enjoy your week

Gibberish Tale "The Beast in the Belly"

As soon as the coals ignited and various accessories were tossed with bits of flesh on the hot bars of aluminum, the beast in the belly started to growl. It needed to be satisfied by Hot Tamales and pickles, but the pickles in the fridge were sliced and not whole, and if they weren't whole the beast wasn't satisfied. So the beast got another idea; a few cod from the fjord to feast on now, and to complete the meal a big hot cherry pie so full of sugar that the beast started to drool at the thought of it. As the cod jumped on the grill the calories started to pop out of the coals and they danced all the way to the beasts open mouth. They tangoed across his tongue. As he licked his lips, they slipped like logs on a waterfall ride sticking the sides of his phlegmy throat. He swallowed and glump, glump, glump it finally went into the pit of hot lava like juice in the pit of his stomach, where they began to pop like Pop Rocks! The music coming from the pop rocks as they exploded out of the beast and on to the grill was so fantastic that the neighbors held a party for the Beast in the Belly and he became famous. His number one hit “Pop it like it Rocks,” has sold more cod and cherry pie than any other performer to date.

Written by this ambitious gang of Minnie’s gibberish fun lovers:

Alex J. Cavanaugh

E.J. Wesley

Summer Ross

Hilary Melton-Butcher

Suzanne Furness

shelly

Michael Di Gesu

L. Diane Wolfe

 

Have a great week-end!

Still Gibbering Until the Gibbering is Done

Minnie still wants to play, so come on you guys there has to be more gibberish out there. The beast in the belly is not satisfied! Minnie is giving you guys another chance. This is what you have come up with so far:

As soon as the coals ignited and various accessories were tossed with bits of flesh on the hot bars of aluminum, the beast in the stomach started to growl. It needed to be satisfied by Hot Tamales and pickles, but the pickles in the fridge were sliced and not whole, and if they weren't whole the beast wasn't satisfied. So the beast got another idea; a few cod from the fjord to feast on now, and to complete the meal a big hot cherry pie so full of sugar that the beast started to drool at the thought of it. As the cod jumped on the grill the calories started to pop out of the coals and they danced all the way to the beasts open mouth. They tangoed across his tongue. As he licked his lips, they slipped like logs on a waterfall ride ...