Driveway Surprises

The roses are gaining on us, much to my delight. They live halfway down our hillside, and I've never been able to enjoy them without danger of falling down the slope. A side benefit of this winter's non-stop rain, the roses are now branching out in other directions, advancing up the hill and over our driveway juniper. They smell fabulous and are surprisingly rugged for roses that only have five or so petals.

Another visitor to the driveway this week was Mr. Snake. Mrguy saw him from the kitchenden and said he was worried that the snake in the driveway was not moving. Maybe he was injured. I went down to see the snake, and he was NOT happy to see me. He did the big sidewind as if to say "I don't need legs. Legs are for dummies. I am going to wiggle quickly and lose you in this bush". 

Good job, snake! Hide behind the poison oak. 

You are not dumb.

The One Where Cozy Death Gets The Hook

It's hard enough dealing with my mom, her parade of new caregivers and life in general without also adding Cozy Death. They never really explained who was going to coordinate my mom's care, they didn't communicate with the community my mom lives in, with us or with the doctor. And they kept insisting on services and treatments that we explicitly declined. Oh! And the parade of new people they sent were frightening to my mom (who now hates strangers) and that fear led to outbursts. It's super obvious that she disdains and is even frightened by people of color.

**Trigger warning for those who don't want to read examples of my mom's racism**

I feel a real sense of conflict protecting and trying to love someone who is an outright racist. She turned on the last caregiver because she was black, from Eritrea. I saw the familiar signs: she'll whisper that someone is "bad". And when you don't agree with her opinion, it escalates. Mom thinks she has lots of money (which she does) but she thinks it's in her purse (which it is not) and says that people are stealing from her (also not true). Because they're stealing they are, therefore, bad and dangerous and the police should be called. First the nattering, then the slow burn and then combustion. 

It reminds me of the Bastille Day incident at the gulf coast restaurant where I used to work.

It was July 14th, and we were doing a special French menu. We were playing super Frenchy music on the stereo. I was working the bar, and had a few customers who I was serving. An unsteady woman came in and ordered a vodka and milk. I served her, and went back to my other duties. As Edith Piaf sang La Vie En Rose, the woman began to unravel. I was heading into the kitchen and had just banged through the swinging kitchen doors as she muttered to herself and then said in rising volume "This song is too loud and the music is too loud and AAAAAIIIIIGHHH!!!!!" Her scream was her ticket to a gentle escort onto the street.

Can't say that I like Edith Piaf either, lady.

So yesterday morning I terminated our contract with Cozy Death. I had hopes that they would help with figuring out some meds that would calm mom down. Instead it added to her anger.

And today we have a new caregiver. Hope I don't have to intervene. Hope I don't have to hear unkind thoughts and my mom's fantasies about punching or killing people.

It's getting a little old. 

Happy Monday!

They look so peaceful when they sleep.

Monday has become one of my favorite days. The dream team takes care of mom that day and I can do other things, like work. I have one standing meeting, and one standing conversation at the end of the day with my good friend the minister.

Today's a little different. I took Juneteenth as a vacation day, and will work on the Freedman's Bureau transcription project. My current set of items to transcribe is lists of outrages inflicted on Freedmen in Texas in 1866. My favorite part of these is getting identifying names of people right so that descendants of enslaved people can learn more about them and so that people who inflicted pain on others can be easily found, as well. People are so willing to find their good traits in their ancestors. Let's show them the full picture.

Mom ate another caregiver yesterday. I had to go down there, ask the caregiver to leave and finish her shift. THIS is why I'm glad that my mom lives 15 minutes away now. The caregiver was not skilled, was timid, and when my mom turned on her, as she does, she let my mom do whatever. When mom was found ON THE FLOOR NEXT TO HER WHEELCHAIR at the nurse's station, the caregiver was yards away, around a corner, texting to someone. 

After all this, after mom calmed down from "madder than a wet hen" but with fists instead of feathers, we watched Shark Tank and she finally felt sleepy. She nattered on nonstop for about an hour in word snippets. Except when she was talking about preparing for vacation, a subject so native to her that she can construct whole sentences about it easily. She wants to talk about how many cars to take, how many people can fit in them, whether the boys are already there...whoever she means by that.

In other news, our new line of forklifts is officially tanking. I wonder what happens next.

But I don't have to think about that today. I'm taking a vacation day. My family does not know. It is mine and I intend to enjoy it.

Celebrity Dreams: Courtney Love Edition

I dreamed that Courtney Love was giving college-level courses on horses in order to make extra cash.