I call it, "It puts the lotion on..."
">If you get that, I like you.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
to tide you over
I'm back in Topeka and the land of 21st century internet speeds. To wet your appetite for the impending posts recanting my adventures, I give you this:
I call it, "It puts the lotion on..."
">
If you get that, I like you.
I call it, "It puts the lotion on..."
">If you get that, I like you.
Monday, June 25, 2007
so much to say
I have not forgotten you, dear blog.
Surgery, camp and pride, OH MY!
After California and my birthday (more on that later), I headed to St. Louis to see a post-operation mom. Then to Springfield, IL to volunteer at a camp for under-priveleged children. Then back to St. Louis for pride. Now I'm in New Baden, IL in the house I grew up in (on an internet connection that strains my patience.) And I say this after spending a week, 24/7, with a cabin of 8 hyperactive, hypersensitive boys.
Mom is getting out of the hospital tomorrow and she asked if I could stay for the week to help her out. And wanting to keep the position of favored child, I agreed.
I do have lots of pictures and stories to share, but I don't want to share the stories without the photographic evidence. I know how skeptical you all are of the fantastic adventures I lead.
I will be back on my 21st century internet connection hopefully by Friday.
More from the front then.
Surgery, camp and pride, OH MY!
After California and my birthday (more on that later), I headed to St. Louis to see a post-operation mom. Then to Springfield, IL to volunteer at a camp for under-priveleged children. Then back to St. Louis for pride. Now I'm in New Baden, IL in the house I grew up in (on an internet connection that strains my patience.) And I say this after spending a week, 24/7, with a cabin of 8 hyperactive, hypersensitive boys.
Mom is getting out of the hospital tomorrow and she asked if I could stay for the week to help her out. And wanting to keep the position of favored child, I agreed.
I do have lots of pictures and stories to share, but I don't want to share the stories without the photographic evidence. I know how skeptical you all are of the fantastic adventures I lead.
I will be back on my 21st century internet connection hopefully by Friday.
More from the front then.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
two birds, one post
The trip to California:
When it came to grandparents, I got the short end of the stick. On my mom's side, I was the youngest grandchild of the youngest child. My oldest cousin is 20 years older than me and my closest cousin in age is 4 years older than me. My mom's dad was dead by the time I came along. I did, however, get to spend lots of time with Grandma Wilkerson. The youngest grandchild was always her favorite. Since I was the last, I got to hold the honored position until her death when I was 12.
She was great. Very grandmaish. Even with Alzheimer's she was grandma and always had a lap to sit on or a warm pocket to curl up in in her bed on cold mornings. Even if she didn't know who you were, she knew you were family if you called her grandma or mom.
On my dad's side, he was an only child, so no cousins on his side. He was from California, so what family he did have out there, we never saw. His dad also died before I was born. And apparently his mom came from California to Illinois to live for a bit after his death. I don't think I was born yet, but if I was, I don't remember it.
My dad never talked about his side of the family. Maybe his cousin Sandy once in a while, but never his mom. See, Grandma Hart has schizophrenia. So I can't imagine that his upbringing was the best. I wouldn't know. He doesn't talk about it. Ever.
And while I was growing up, it was very apparent that the only person who wanted to keep in touch with Grandma Hart was my mom. She made the phone calls, she wrote the letters, she sent the presents to Grandma Hart.
But while growing up, I can remember seeing Grandma Hart a total of 4 times. And that includes this last trip to California.
Growing up, I expected Grandma Hart to be like Grandma Wilkerson. She wasn't. She wasn't warm and affectionate like G. Wilkerson. And as a kid I couldn't understand it.
And for the last 21 years we haven't had to worry about Grandma Hart. A wonderful lady named Betty Stepp took G. Hart into her house 21 years ago to care for her. She made sure Granny took her medicine and was active. (I should note that as long as she's on meds, her schizophrenia doesn't show itself)
Betty knew how to take care of Grandma. Grandma is really quite childlike. She has to be told almost everything to do. And Betty did it. Every day. For 21 years.
But now Betty is dying of lung cancer and can't take care of Grandma, who now has Alzheimer's.
We got the call on the way home from the Triathlon last weekend. Betty needed us to come get grandma. First mom, who's getting hip replacement tomorrow, wanted to go. My brother Jim, sister Denise and I argued back and forth with her about her not going and that us kids should go. After a couple days, it came that my brother and I would travel to northern California to get grandma and bring her back to Illinois to live in a nursing home.
The trip went without a hitch. Betty still looked good. Her hair had just falling out and she's short of breath. And, understandably, she cried. A lot. I can't imagine what all this is like for her.
Grandma was pretty clueless as to what was going on. And that's a good thing. It made it much easier. She had no idea who we were. But she remembers my mom. We kept telling her that we were going to see Jeanette. "Oh, she's such a good daughter-in-law."
And the nice thing was that Betty had almost everything taken care of, so Jim and I had time to see some sights. Though, honestly, there's not much to do in that part of California.
The only thing that pissed me off is that I was in San Francisco (a layover at the airport to hop on the puddle-jumper plane to go up north) and couldn't go out and see it. I mean, seriously, it's like my mecca. I felt like I should have brought my prayer rug and done some bowing at the airport.
But we did discover that at least some folks in California and Oregon have a sense of humor.
You can see all the pics from the trip here.
TODAY'S MY BIRTHDAY!
YEA!
29 years ago at approximately 9:45 a.m. in a Belleville, IL hospital, I burst forth from my mother's loins.
And the world hasn't been the same since.
For my own birthday present, I traded in my '03 Chevy Cavalier (which I bought in '02) for an '07 Scion Tc.
I'm going to miss the Cavalier. She's been a good little car. But her time has come.
Not to mention, to date, I've lost almost 50 lbs and I'm feeling awesome.
No big plans. Just some weight lifting, an ab class, a little swim, renewing my driver's license an picking up my NEW CAR!!
Love to all you no-commenting bitches out there.
When it came to grandparents, I got the short end of the stick. On my mom's side, I was the youngest grandchild of the youngest child. My oldest cousin is 20 years older than me and my closest cousin in age is 4 years older than me. My mom's dad was dead by the time I came along. I did, however, get to spend lots of time with Grandma Wilkerson. The youngest grandchild was always her favorite. Since I was the last, I got to hold the honored position until her death when I was 12.
She was great. Very grandmaish. Even with Alzheimer's she was grandma and always had a lap to sit on or a warm pocket to curl up in in her bed on cold mornings. Even if she didn't know who you were, she knew you were family if you called her grandma or mom.
On my dad's side, he was an only child, so no cousins on his side. He was from California, so what family he did have out there, we never saw. His dad also died before I was born. And apparently his mom came from California to Illinois to live for a bit after his death. I don't think I was born yet, but if I was, I don't remember it.
My dad never talked about his side of the family. Maybe his cousin Sandy once in a while, but never his mom. See, Grandma Hart has schizophrenia. So I can't imagine that his upbringing was the best. I wouldn't know. He doesn't talk about it. Ever.
And while I was growing up, it was very apparent that the only person who wanted to keep in touch with Grandma Hart was my mom. She made the phone calls, she wrote the letters, she sent the presents to Grandma Hart.
But while growing up, I can remember seeing Grandma Hart a total of 4 times. And that includes this last trip to California.
Growing up, I expected Grandma Hart to be like Grandma Wilkerson. She wasn't. She wasn't warm and affectionate like G. Wilkerson. And as a kid I couldn't understand it.
And for the last 21 years we haven't had to worry about Grandma Hart. A wonderful lady named Betty Stepp took G. Hart into her house 21 years ago to care for her. She made sure Granny took her medicine and was active. (I should note that as long as she's on meds, her schizophrenia doesn't show itself)
Betty knew how to take care of Grandma. Grandma is really quite childlike. She has to be told almost everything to do. And Betty did it. Every day. For 21 years.
But now Betty is dying of lung cancer and can't take care of Grandma, who now has Alzheimer's.
We got the call on the way home from the Triathlon last weekend. Betty needed us to come get grandma. First mom, who's getting hip replacement tomorrow, wanted to go. My brother Jim, sister Denise and I argued back and forth with her about her not going and that us kids should go. After a couple days, it came that my brother and I would travel to northern California to get grandma and bring her back to Illinois to live in a nursing home.
The trip went without a hitch. Betty still looked good. Her hair had just falling out and she's short of breath. And, understandably, she cried. A lot. I can't imagine what all this is like for her.
Grandma was pretty clueless as to what was going on. And that's a good thing. It made it much easier. She had no idea who we were. But she remembers my mom. We kept telling her that we were going to see Jeanette. "Oh, she's such a good daughter-in-law."
And the nice thing was that Betty had almost everything taken care of, so Jim and I had time to see some sights. Though, honestly, there's not much to do in that part of California.
The only thing that pissed me off is that I was in San Francisco (a layover at the airport to hop on the puddle-jumper plane to go up north) and couldn't go out and see it. I mean, seriously, it's like my mecca. I felt like I should have brought my prayer rug and done some bowing at the airport.
But we did discover that at least some folks in California and Oregon have a sense of humor.
You can see all the pics from the trip here.
TODAY'S MY BIRTHDAY!
YEA!
29 years ago at approximately 9:45 a.m. in a Belleville, IL hospital, I burst forth from my mother's loins.
And the world hasn't been the same since.
For my own birthday present, I traded in my '03 Chevy Cavalier (which I bought in '02) for an '07 Scion Tc.
I'm going to miss the Cavalier. She's been a good little car. But her time has come.
Not to mention, to date, I've lost almost 50 lbs and I'm feeling awesome.
No big plans. Just some weight lifting, an ab class, a little swim, renewing my driver's license an picking up my NEW CAR!!
Love to all you no-commenting bitches out there.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Leaving
On a jet plane. To California. Crescent City. If you don't know where that's at, welcome to the club. It's roughly half-way between San Francisco and Portland, OR with a population of 4,000.
I'll tell you later why I'm going. It's not a "fun" trip. I'll be keeping a journal and I'll it share with you faithful few when I get back this weekend.
p.s. I was going to use "Out West" or "Westward Ho" for the title of this post, but the gay pun possibilities were too obvious.
I'll tell you later why I'm going. It's not a "fun" trip. I'll be keeping a journal and I'll it share with you faithful few when I get back this weekend.
p.s. I was going to use "Out West" or "Westward Ho" for the title of this post, but the gay pun possibilities were too obvious.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
tri again
I like when I can make wishes come true.
Picture it:
65 degrees with a slight breeze. The sun is coming up. Not a cloud in the sky.
And then,
a .93 mile swim
(I'm in there somewhere. There were 166 participants in the olympic distance.)
a 25 mile bike
and a 6.2 mile run
Not to mention a trainer an her supportive sister.
And a crew of supportive family.
Just to make a birthday wish come true.
Now the details.
I swam faster than I'd ever swam. I biked faster than I've biked before. I ran faster than I'd ran before. And it STILL took me a time of 3:10 to complete. However, I didn't come in last. I was 151. I passed three skinny folks on expensive bikes.
The last one exclaimed, "MOUNTAIN BIKE??"
I replied, "Hell yeah!"
My sister was kind enough to take many pictures of people fatter than I.
Though I should mention that this guy finished before me. His time was 2:49.
It was an awesome day. I loved it.
Thanks Addy!
Picture it:
65 degrees with a slight breeze. The sun is coming up. Not a cloud in the sky.
And then,
a .93 mile swim
(I'm in there somewhere. There were 166 participants in the olympic distance.)
a 25 mile bike
and a 6.2 mile run
Not to mention a trainer an her supportive sister.
And a crew of supportive family.
Just to make a birthday wish come true.
Now the details.
I swam faster than I'd ever swam. I biked faster than I've biked before. I ran faster than I'd ran before. And it STILL took me a time of 3:10 to complete. However, I didn't come in last. I was 151. I passed three skinny folks on expensive bikes.
The last one exclaimed, "MOUNTAIN BIKE??"
I replied, "Hell yeah!"
My sister was kind enough to take many pictures of people fatter than I.
Though I should mention that this guy finished before me. His time was 2:49.
It was an awesome day. I loved it.
Thanks Addy!
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