Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Going for a ride?

Gran is obsessed with leaves.

The ones on the front lawn drive her nuts. Any leaf drives her nuts. The upside? She gets here exercise by going out and sweeping the lawn. Every day, twice a day, rain or shine she's out there with her broom sweeping away.

The other morning my cousin called to ask gran to get ready for church. She was of course in the yard, so I answered the phone, then had to go find her and get her in the house. So I go outside in my nightgown, hair sticking up in 10 different directions and my flip flops on (it was sunday, my ONLY day to sleep in, and 9am is EARLY for me).

Gran has lived in the same house for 50 years. AND the neighbors have lived there nearly as long. So they have all known me since I was a kid. This is good, and bad. The good is that the neighbors are friendly and they are all happy someone responsible is living there.

The bad? They think it's funny to pick on me.

So as I'm standing there trying to coax a stubborn 90 year old into the house to get dressed, she hands me the broom and tells me to finish sweeping.

Yeah right.

So I stand there holding the broom and she looks at me and says "Well, aren't you going to sweep?" So, being the good grandaughter that I am, I pretend. Long enough for her to turn around and go in the house.

And the neighbor, Neil, who watched the whole ordeal looks at me standing on the curb with the broom and says "Going for a ride?" And then laughs.

Welcome to my new world.

The Open Close game

It's FINALLY summer time....and Gran and I have started the "Open Close" Game.

I open the windows, the doors, etc to get some light and some air into the dungeon that we live in. The house isn't really supposed to be that dark....however she has shades and curtains on every single window. And the shades are NEVER opened more than half mast. And the curtains NEVER open. EVER. So the house is like a dungeon.

Which is really really bad because Gran doesn't see that well.

It's even worse, becasue I'm sister mary freakin sunshine and like the light and the breeze.

Oh yeah, and the house smells musty and old because everything in it is old. Including the main occupant.

So we play the open close game. See, Gran goes on patrol and likes the place boarded up like Ft. Knox. I think she's afraid someone is going to come in and steal something (not sure what!) but anyway, she closes and locks every door, every window, every crevice....ALL THE TIME.

She goes on patrol at LEAST 3 times a day. So last night it was HOT in the house as I hadn't gotten home early. But see, it was also dark. Dark=scary=the whole house has to be locked down as if there was a red alert at the airport.

So I open the door. She walks in the living room and YELLS at me that it's DARK outside and the door needs to be SHUT and LOCKED. No matter that there is a security door on the front door that is SHUT AND LOCKED. NOPE! The door must be locked. Ok fine. I'll shut the door, but I'll open the window.

She goes on Patrol and closes it.

I go behind her and open it.

She goes on patrol again.

See a pattern here?

Oh yes, this is EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. At LEAST twice. Sometimes as many as six times.

Summer just started 9 days ago.

It's going to be a LONG season.

Moving In

Recently I decided to move in to help care for my grandmother.

She is 90 and almost 91. I am 32. I am the one of my cousins and assorted family members who is pretty much footloose and fancy free. Yeah, I owned my own house, and I lived the good life all alone....but I'm a spendthrift and I was house poor and wanted to travel. I also had a grandmother who needed more care than she was getting, so in I moved. I rented out my cute little house, got rid of half of my stuff, and "viola" life changed. In a big way.

I had no idea what I was getting into.

Life with Lucy is amusing to say the least. First off, lets talk about GrannyPie as I call her....she's a feisty old bat. She is shrinking....she used to be a robust woman of about 5'6. Now....she's a petite 5'2 if that, and about 120 pounds. Altho under my watch she's gaining weight...which is no shock since she wasn't eating well....however It's not my fault. My mother realizes that her mother is becoming a child again....with a particular affection for pineapple pie and gross brightly colored sodas that my normally health conscious mother provides for her. Right now Strawberry Crush is her current favorite (insert gagging noises here). For whatever reason I can't stomach BRIGHT PINK soda. However, Granny Pie is currently drinking about 2 liters every 3 days. Sometimes right out of the bottle. However, normally it's milk that she consumes right out of the jug....as if she were a 16 year old boy just home from football practice.

Speaking of football....it's like football practice every single morning. She comes out of her room dressed and I pat her ass to make sure the disposable drawers that she's supposed to be wearing are on. When she gives me the death look (it's lost it's power as I've gotten older) and asks why I'm patting her ass I tell her I'm checkin for the pants. Sometimes I check to see if they're full....pretty soon it's going to be like the baby where you pull the back of the diaper out to see if there is anything in it....altho I am trying to protect a shred of her dignity. If I notice that she's bare assed (oh yes, this happens OFTEN) I just hand her the disposable. The dementia kicks in, she doesn't remember WHY she has it, but knows what to do with it....I learned this after MANY a mexican standoff in the bathroom with her screaming at me "THIS IS MY HOUSE" and me yelling back "I DON"T GIVE A SHIT, PUT THE PANTS ON". It wasn't working. I had to switch methods....when one doesn't work, try another. The upside? She forgets our fights in about 4.5 seconds. So....she doesn't often stay mad at me long.

I'm fat. It bothers her. She brings it up just about every meal we have....and since it's my job to feed her, that is a lot of meals. So every time she brings up me being fat, she ends it with "you need to lose weight." Then about 10 seconds later "Aren't you going to eat?" This is a constant. I have learned over the years to ignore her (she hates my big butt the most, and every now and again will comment on my ass. This is usually while I'm bent over picking something up off the floor).