Post Christmas pre New Year

Christmas achieved!!! Everyone alive and without any serious ego injuries.
At John's office they have a comment board. Someone asks a question and others answer it. This year a person asked how others observed Christmas. One reply stood out for its brevity and accuracy. "First the whole family drinks, then they fight, then we all go to Mid-night Mass.
Those words sum up the Midwest Catholic in situ.


Of course, Midwesterners who escape to the West Coast light candles, do yoga, graze on veggies, smoke dope and then fight.

Christmas according to us.

I captured a Christmas tree yesterday. It was a traditional capture. Sleet and temperature dropping, I set off alone in my rusty old station wagon. I was alone because the rest of my family deserted me, another family tradition. John justifies this by telling the story of one of his old dogs who took "forever" to find a place to mictuate. The children eagerly use his excuse.
The first tree store was closed. Sold out. I cut back around town and tried Jerry's veggie store. Sure enough, some few trees were in the back yard. It took about  3 minutes to chose one and two minutes to write the check. The sleet was wetting the check. The man selling trees had it trussed and in my car in seconds. So the tree and I headed home.
I can't carry a big tree into the house anymore. My back hurts. I resigned myself to riding around with Christmas tree for a few days.
Imagine my joy when I came downstairs this morning and found the trussed tree on the floor of the front hall!
I have a cheery sort of house now. I bought some inexpensive roses and put them on the mantle. The dining room table has a wierdly coloured poinsettia on it. The local undertaker sends one to Ma every year, no doubt to ensure our custom. Ma's allergic so she threw it at me after we'd visited John the brother yesterday.
It's pale orange with yellow accents, no doubt mutated for some purpose I don't understand.
The infants have condescended to be home on Christmas eve. As Marguerite is working on Christmas day we'll exchange gifts on Christmas eve. Then there's the traditional brunch at Ma's with relations I haven't seen since last Christmas. Then the men of the family plan to go to a movie and I will enjoy peace and quiet. Well as much as I can with a diabetic dog, a naughty brown dog (she steals) and the monster dog who has only the best intentions as he lashes his tail across fragile items and barks at snowment and little babies' pointy hats. Merry Christmas!

Winter games

So it snowed last night. John and Marguerite got up very early. I arose, called the hospital at 6 AM and then was called by Ma at 7AM to find out about John my brother.
Went out, cleaned off car-three inches of snow, ice underneath and drove to the hospital. John was having therapy. He was writing on a small white board. "Who's that?" asked the chipper therapist. John wrote intently.
"My shit head sister," he inscribed on the board. (Which I bought for him.)
"What's her name?" asked the therapist.
"Nancy," he wrote.

I am impelled to contemplate the nature of kindness.

AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHH

This is rather like a diary. No one reads it so I can say what I like. I carted 3 dozen bagels to the hospital ward John's on...and flavored cream cheese too. I've been nice to everyone. Even my mother. Today I made two sets of earrings for friends for tomorrow, called the hospital fruitlessly, stayed home to finish Christmas shopping, wrote the Christmas letter, edited the epilogue and played with the dogs.
Mickey ran over and urinated in the corner.
Mother keeps on and on about me taking her to hospital so John won't think he's abandoned by her.
I keep thinking that she abandoned me quite happily when I was hospitalized in Cleveland some years ago.
So what is it about me? I'm chopped liver.
Winnie is barking outside so I yelled at her in French. Seems one way to keep a language living.
On top of all the other outside foolishness, and it's reached epic proportions, some idiot is trying to make computers "sensitive to human moods."
Great. Just great.

Rules-VA Hospital

Always call for a medical report at the same time in the morning.
Be polite and personable to all the staff.
Keep it short.
Even if it's all in your hands, it's not in your hands.
Praise people for good work ie "Thank you for tending to his mouth care. It's so important to his comfort."
(This is after a sweetly phrased request yesterday to tend his mouth and apply salve)
Try to get sleep.
Ignore all relatives. If impossible, get them to talk about themselves.
Ignore all criticism.
Remember. Even if it's all in your hands, it's not in your hands.
(My brother gave me medial and financial power of attorney)
Take a day off. Send someone else.

My Day

My day started at 3:00 AM with a call from the Vetrens's Hospital. A doctor wanted to know all the details of John's fall. I did my best to provide a coherant narrative. I probably failed due to social differences. My brother fell and the ladies downstairs called the owner of the appartment building. He came, found John and called for EMS. Seems simple. Not for the doctors. I referred to the owner as "Billy." I explained that naturally the ladies would call him. Doctor thought "Billy" was the super. We don't have supers in this area. I tried to explain. "Billy" is William Farrell. He went to school with me and my brother. His mother in law and various other relatives live in the building. Billy holds the master key, naturally enough. Clearly the doctor was unfamiliar with small towns.
Reported my brother was in guarded conditions.
Since no one else will deal, I am my brother's legal and medical guardian. Fell asleep finally wondering if I'd have to make the decision to pull the plug.
The truth is that in spite of it all, I guess I love my brother.
At 7:00 AM I started calling the hospital. Finally found he was in ICU and stable. THANK GOD. However tests are being done to determine heart attack and brain bleed. I'm now terrified about the reports.
Called THE MOTHER. Exhausting. Determined I'd pick her up and take her for visit. She thinks the hospitals think we were abusing John. He has rug burns. I haven't seen the man in six years. Mom couldn't get near him. He hates her.
After that I gave Mickey his insulin shot, fed the dogs, kept Nanqu from eating the other dog's food and sat down to listen to the radio.
Discussion is about the economy. Apparently the best thing is to cut unemployment benefits and not cut taxes. Sometimes I get so confused. I thought maybe we should increase taxes except on the very poor.We're fast becoming a plutocracy. I'd have thought that billionaires could get by with a 170,000.00 tax increase.
I hate it when the nation takes up religion. Money is NOT God. Republicans need a good shaking, a smack on the rear and an IQ infusion. So do the Democrats. So does the nation.
I'm tired.

Thanksgiving

This is an American holiday dreaded by all as it requires face to face family time. We had a great one this year! My mother made a tasty turkey (which is very hard to do), my daughter made all the desserts and I did the veggies. John managed the settings and chairs and us.
We had nine to dinner: we four, Ma, Jean, Anne, Suse and Emily. None of us knew Anne and Emily and that may be why the dinner went so well. Jean and Ma are among the few who read the Jesuit magazine Commonweal and enjoy Jesuitical comment on the world. The rest of us, bar John, Marguerite and Anton are liberal arts types. I was so happy when it was over.
Mickey developed diabetes and now require two shots of insulin a day. The vet, having seen Mickey in full snit, was worried we couldn't give the doses without being bitten. Ha!
Marguerite junior, a genius, quickly found a routine and the damndog runs to get his shots. The routine relys on turkey treats and heaven knows what will happen when we run out. I guess I may have to cook a turkey a month.
Oh well. Turkey is cheap for most of the year.
This morning my brother was found on the floor of his appartment. He's still at the emergency hospital.
I have no idea what to do. The last time I kept him here for months until he could get his appartment and be on his own. The biggest problem is he hates me. He hates Ma too.
For all I know he has reason to hate me, but I can't figure what it is. He's had strokes that leave him nastier than he's been in the past...and manipulative!!!!!!
Since he left here three years ago or so he hasn't spoken to me. So I'm here, next to the phone waiting to see how he goes.

Monday, Monday

Spent a good part of the weekend trying for a glimpse of Mickey's butt. No luck. I think the bump is retreating.
Marguerite came in from the vet with Nook, she'd dropped her cat off at her house. The cat had had her temperature taken and Nooky likes cat's rears. Apparently the vet is still unused to Nooky's size because when he came up from inserting the instrument in the cat who was perched on the high table he looked straight into the damndogs eyes and quickly noted the dog's nose was sniffing with great interest the site of the insertion.
Says Nooky is a freak of nature. NOOOOOOOOO.........Now he's noticed?

Marguerite admitted she like the book. Said it had a good ending. She still hasn't brought it back.

Book

So. We gave the book we wrote-together- gasp- and we're still married ...to our children.  The eldest was too busy to read it. Our daughter told me last night when she came to pick up her damndog that she was almost done.
Was it good? (me)
It's OK. (she)
Did it make you laugh? (me)
It's OK. (she)
You will find me crouched under the bed. I may never come out from under.

The Wednesday after the Tuesday

I'm not really keen on dogs' bums. Frankly they can keep them to themselves as most respectable animals do...well cats, but they're more an art product than a serious animal. It occurs to me that chimps are also immodest, but chimps don't live here. Mickey does.
Sunday my beloved and keen eyed resident nurse, Marguerite, noticed Mick displayed "a really big pimple on his anus." Wonderful.
Monday I marched him off to the vet. As per instructions, I sedated him first. Much good it did me. When I got back to the treatment room I found both the vet and the vet tech firmly plastered to the wall. They didn't even offer me the muzzle. "What", they asked," is wrong?"
"He's got a big protruding pimple in his butt", I answered. In dealing with medical types of any stripe, always use good plain English.
"Oh."
"Well, don't you need to look at it?"
"Hmmm..."
The vet moved carefully to Mick's backside and eyed the area from a good three feet away.
"Can you get him on the table?" he asked.
Reflexively I grabbed Mickey under his front legs and heaved. Mickey weighs forty pounds and does not cooperate with this lifting business.
"Maybe you should lift him a bit higher."
Somehow I shoved Mick onto the table.
"Oh....that looks nasty."
"How can you tell, you're not even near his back end." I huffed.
The vet moved in, looked and darted back to prop up the wall.
"If it was the big guy, or even Winnie, I'd lance it and clean it out, but it's Mickey. I'd have to put him under."
The vet makes it  clear that "putting an animal under" is dangerous and very, very expensive. He adds lots of "very"s to the expense part when it's Micky under consideration.
I left with pills for Mick, I put old linens all over the furniture, and hoped this would soon pass.
It's Wednesday.  The linens have blood spots all over them. Rand Paul got elected. I have listened to a raft of morbid comments about Mickey's big bump. Apparently the rest of my family is keen to see it burst.

Why is it always the smallest dog? Why is it always the "part terrier"? And why oh why do I live in a state that elected Rand Paul? Finally, will my back EVER stop hurting?

The horror

I just threw away Holloween candy.It was a considered opinion: no one in the house needs it and the children in the neighbourhood are all fighting obesity.Well, not really. We have a rather trim lot around here. On Holloween we'll hand out more candy. THIS candy was house candy and I made an executive decision to dump it.
Everyone had picked out his favorite any way.

None

So I've checked my horoscope and it says I should begin a new venture. This is the first time I've bothered with a horoscope as I have no clear idea when I was born, but the paper says July.
I've also checked the report on car crashes. I have a morbid interest in crashes that involve big trucks. When I came home from South Africa a million years ago I noticed that trucks, which had before been regarded as the Knights of the Road had transformed themselves into the demons of the drive.Nothing compares to a four hundred thousand pound truck determined to remain four inches from one's bumper. Gets the heart going serving as my aerobic activity for many a day.
Over the course of many years I learned that many truck drivers were on speed and that companies frequently required impossible schedules of the drivers. Cheery that.
I can't figure out why so many previously nice institutions have turned to evil.

Dogs

The dog pictured here is Nanuq, my daughters dog. She says he's her dog, but actually lives here most of the time.

Getting Started

Hello All out there

This is the first day of our blog. We are testing and busy setting it up

More to come