Bathtime Fun

You Will Not Believe What Happened...

Two days ago I was sitting on the couch watching a little Baby Einstein with Cal, when all of a sudden I became aware that I had been hearing a consistent little crackling noise for the last few minutes. I turned around and my eyes were drawn towards a little cluster of bright color on the kitchen floor. I didn't have my contacts in, so at first I assumed it was the dying mylar helium balloon I had gotten Jeff for his birthday. "I guess it got a hole in it and it's eeking out the last of its juice..." Then I looked more closely and realized it was what you see in the pictures below:

I was a little spooked because I had closed the door about fifteen or twenty minutes before and I wasn't sure how long the bird had been there, but I tiptoed into the bedroom to get the camera. I would never have been able to get such good shots if the bird hadn't been such a brave, stubborn sucker. In fact, I had a hard time convincing him to leave. He seemed pretty happy.

The funny thing is that we have a couple of wild birds that like to sit outside our door and walk in while we're not looking to eat the crumbs out of the carpet (especially below where Cal sits...that tells you what a sad state our carpet is in a lot of the time). But those are little black and brown birds. This one caught me completely off guard because, well, look how colorful! It looked like it had escaped from a pet shop or a zoo and found its way to us. Anyway, Cal and I both got a kick out of it.

The Doorbell Song

Portrait of a Great-Grandmother

A week from last Thursday, I was busy stressing out about my orchestra class. I felt like I had a lot of things to get ready, copies and phone calls to make, planning to do, parents to inform...you get the idea. It probably didn't have to be as hectic as I made it that day, but so it was. (I don't have a better coping mechanism for when lots of things need to be done, except to get a little stressed out.) I spent all of Cal's nap time and a lot of his wake time (sadly) getting ready for the 4:15 rehearsal. Finally, at about 1:30 in the afternoon, I reached the point when I felt like I had done everything I could do before the actual class. I was as ready as I could be and whatever would happen now would happen. It was a nice feeling, and I was glad it came early enough before the rehearsal to still enjoy a piece of the day with Cal.

The rehearsal went fine, and I rushed home in time to zip to Grandma's house for dinner. I always love visiting her because we have so many common interests. Also, my last surviving grandparent--the only one I ever knew--died when I was in eighth grade (when I was just starting to not be a little kid) so visiting Helen makes it seem like I have a grandma. As usual, we had a nice time. We helped her take care of a few things around her place, served up dinner, and watched Cal toddle around her apartment and chase her cat.

Listening to her talk always makes me think. What would it be like to be in the sunset of my life? She has such an independent personality that I imagine, and she's mentioned to me, that it's hard to have to depend on people. To not be able to trust your body to do everything you need it to, to not be able to see well enough to thread the needles you've been threading your whole life, to not be able to remember previous conversations you've had...and yet she's so admirable because she just copes with everything. For example, she's been having huge difficulty moving her right arm (because she was folding some heavy sheet and injured something) and she just finds new ways to feed herself, or write a letter, or do whatever.

The impression I get when I talk to her is that she's doing her best to stay occupied while, sort of at the same time, waiting for the inevitable to happen. I don't mean to sound morose, but she's mentioned several times in a "joking-but-not" way how "I'm not sure I'll be here that long" or "I better not be here that long" or "Why the h*** did I have to live so d*** long?" And on this particular Thursday evening it occurred to me that maybe she feels about her life like I felt about my orchestra class. She's taken care of all the important things she needs to do, and now she's just waiting for whatever is going to happen to happen. I thought about how relieved I was when I'd reached that point earlier that day, and what a relief it would be when I get that old to be able to say the same thing about my whole life. I'm not sure she would say the same, but for my sake I hope she'll be with us for another long while.

Caption: These pictures are of the amaryllis from the bulb garden Mickey gave her for Christmas. She wanted us to take a picture and share them with you.