11 posts tagged “dad”
For one day, I'll refrain from nagging you about getting your exercise. That is a gift in itself, isn't it?
Have a great year and 'we'll see you when we see you'.
Love,
Amy
MomH just called about DadH's heart catheterization. No blockage, no nothin' in DadH's heart and surrounding tubage. Only some age-related stuff.
There was much rejoicing!
DadH asked the doc what else is making him feel so bad in the mornings. Possibly arthritis, but nothing major. At this point at this moment. Who knows what will get DadH next. After all, the man is always in the worst pain he's ever been in. At least he has been since I've been aware of his existence, that is.(I harrass because I love.)
It's a good thing he complained to a non-family member about his recent chest and arm pain. We're so used to his moaning and groaning that we don't hear what he says anymore. If he really gets to complaining, there's a test. Ask him if he's so bad off, maybe he should go to the doctor. He'll either shut up for a while or say, "Yeah, that would probably be a good idea." If it's the latter, get in the car and head to the doctor.
For now, though, it's happy news. Now MomH can finally get excited about our trip. Huzzah!
I've been practicing my Deutsch to get ready for my upcoming Eastern European trip. MomH was going to ask my SIL's Polish stepfather for some practical words - hello, thank you and all that. Then I realized I can ask for 'one beer, please' and toast to your health in Czech, but not hello or thank you. Priorities, my friends, priorities.
So much to do around here. I'm almost done with my Leadership Institute application. I spent most of the weekend on it but I need to tweak it a bit before turning it in on Friday. Writing about how great I am is harder than you would think. Ha. :-P
I also need to get on my road bike to prep for the triathlon relay I talked my friends into doing with me in July. I'm hanging up the running shoes (my hip joints are thanking me already) and getting back up on two wheels. I rode my mountain bike to the library and around the 'hood this weekend to get reacquainted with my cycling muscles - and with the feeling of being attached to the machinery. I tend to crash a lot on my road bike because of the wicked clips. When I'm underway, it's fine (except shifting gears - they are old-style on the frame) but stopping is a bitch. The last triathlon I did saw me skidding, bike and all, into the transition area. Luckily (or not?) I was fine enough to do the run. I just need to make friends with the equipment again and figure out how not to get myself killed.
The race is also at 9,000 feet elevation, so those 26 (24?) miles are going to suck. Suck wind. Gah. Why do I keep signing up for these things? Because otherwise I would be a lazy slug. I need the motivation.
DadH goes in for cardiac catheterization tomorrow. Fun stuff. He was pretty upset about it last week ("I was sputtering all the way home from the doctor") to being depressed and resigned to it as of yesterday. He comes from a family with bad tickers and isn't known for a preventative health lifestyle. But as MomH told him, it's better to get everything checked out before it's an emergency at midnight. They live out in the sticks so emergency medical care isn't exactly close by. FamilyH heart/health problems are another motivation to stay in shape.
Other than that, all is well in H-ville. Elvis is doing better than he has in a long time. Feely spunky and being silly like the good kitty he is. The concert outside at the Tempe Town Lake was fantastic. Other than airplanes overhead and trains rolling by, it was a perfect setting. One of the city council members asked our director if we should have a band shell for next year. Um, yeah! So hopefully that will be in the works. Even a temporary shell would be fantastic.
As for the resolution challenge, it's all about the application and getting ready for my trip. It seemed so far away and here we are, two weeks out. Yipes.
Have a good one, peeps!
I'm limited on time this week, with two board meetings back to back tomorrow night, band rehearsal on Wednesday and an FBS (Food, Booze & Schmooze) on Thursday. On Sunday I'm hitting a matinee theatre production and then that night there's a big party following the big marathon. I'm not running, obvy, but one of my Vacation Boyfriends will be in town for it - along with a bunch of his Orange County firefighting pals. Oh yeah, baby...
1. Send Guatemala Vacation Boyfriend note re: this weekend He's not coming out after all. Rats.
2. Move Shakespeare tix from 1/19 (due to scheduling of January Birthday Month revelry)
3. Schedule new fridge for delivery on 1/22 (only day charity pickup for old fridge was available).
4. Clean old fridge
5. Finish office cleaning (AGAIN!) Or - as organized as it's getting for now. This will have to be a semi-annual event.
6. 5-mile run
7. New watch batteries for DadH watches
I'm trying to pound some stuff out here since I have to take off early and pick up Elvis from the vet. I usually feel all worried and paranoid about him being there all scared. Now I think it's for his own good so he had better just suck it up.
I believe he's bearing the brunt of my spending a week with DadH over the holidays. My father isn't in great health but he could be in better health if he would just do something about it. But he won't. He never has and I don't see that changing anytime soon. I was going to slap my pedometer on him to see if he could even make it to 200 steps. From the easy chair to the four-wheeler to the tractor and back. That's it. Then he complains that his legs hurt. Well of course they do - they are wasting away from disuse.
But he loves to complain. It's a hobby of his. I already told MomH that she can't go first. That would be a nightmare. Then I said my second nightmare is something will happen to Dad and he'll be an invalid.
MomH: "It wouldn't be too different from what I have now, except if he can't speak he'd complain a lot less."
This was said in humor, as this is how we talk in the H house. But there is truth in humor.
My time here back home is winding down. I'm back in the air to Arizona tomorrow. Wish me luck for safe travels and calm weather. I've been pretty lucky with winter weather travel so far, so I'm hoping my streak can extend at least one more time.
I don't mind flying on New Year's Eve. Not too many other people are flying and the ones who do are usually good humored and happy to have a beer with you while you wait to board. As long as I don't sit next to another leg-grabber, it'll be a good time. Gah. On the way out, the guy in the middle seat (I was on the aisle) was taking up the arm rests and a good deal of my space as well. I was over as far as possible to keep his elbow out of my ribs. Then he was pretending to be asleep when the tray tables were down. I was reading a Smithsonian mag (I try to catch up on my pile when I fly) when I felt something. I look down and while his hand was on the seat rest, his fingers were curled around the bottom and he was reaching for my leg.
Was he just trying to stretch his hand? Is this really happening? I looked at his other hand - nope. No being grabby with the guy on the other side of him. I felt ill and I was pissed. What do you do when there are no other seats available and you have two more hours ahead of you? I grabbed another magazine and put it between my leg and his straining fingers. Then he was going under the magazine. ACK! So I took the magazine, aimed the binding side down and hit his fingers. He said, "oh, excuse me" and then kept his hands on the tray table and in plain sight the rest of the time.
So let's hope for no more of that.
Life has been good here. All the early drama subsided and we had a great time. Tonight was a big family dinner with everyone, followed by some Euchre (a card game popular in the Great Lakes region). Danielle (12) wants to learn so we've been playing with her the last couple of nights. Last night, I told her that the only time her grandpa made me cry was during a Euchre game and I trumped his ace. I said he made me feel like the dumbest person in the world.
DadH: "Nope. There was a dumber one up at Narrow Lake a few years back. No one liked to play with him."
If the H's are good for anything, we're good for a laugh. And there's been quite a bit of that, which has been fun to be around.
It's been a busy week back home, full of family, dogs, cows, friends and Michigan State sports (went to campus twice to watch both men's and women's basketball teams; football and hockey on tv). I haven't checked in too much because we're on dial-up out here in the sticks. Very unreliable for one, and Dad always seems to waiting for a Very Important Call.
Mom tried to get me interested in the fertilizer salesman who stopped by to help Dad figure out some past billing. "He's a hard worker, owns a lot of property and isn't married at the moment." Thanks, Mom. Then as he was leaving I heard him say he needed a wife who can stay home and do the bookwork. I pointed out to Mom that the two things he was looking for in a spouse are two things I'm not very good at.
It's always tough to leave here but I'm looking forward to getting back to Elvis and my life out in the desert. Being home is good for the soul and I'm glad to remember what good people I come from.
I wish everyone a very happy New Year and all the best for 2008. May the year bring you strength, kindness and patience to get you through the rough patches and love, joy and understanding in all of your moments.
What is the best present you have ever given?
Submitted by quornflour.
For my fantastic grandmother's 92 birthday last year, I wrote to the Detroit Tigers and asked if I could send them a card for a few of her favorite players to sign. After all, she and my grandfather were lifelong fans and even moved to Lakeland, Florida, upon retirement because that's where the Tigers had Spring Training.
Instead, they sent her a certificate on behalf of the Tigers organization commemerating her birthday and thanking her for her dedication and loyalty to the team.
I didn't tell her what was going on - the Tigers were in the middle of the World Series run and were a bit busy at the time of her birthday. She got it a few weeks after the fact and was so excited, she showed it to everyone at 'The Home' (that's what she calls her apartment place, not me. Ha, funny Grandma!).
The first runner-up best gift evar were socks for my dad. He's always complaining about having cold feet when he's out doing farm stuff in the winter. Well, if you are wearing rubber boots and not proper winter boots, what do you expect? You expect to complain a lot.
Anyhoo, I bought him some high-tech socks last year and he thought those were the greatest things created in the history of mankind.
So this year he's getting two pair.
I just called home to wish Mom & DadH a happy 43rd anniversary. Mom wasn't home so I chatted with Dad for a little bit.
"Yep, we did some math and we're pretty sure it's 43 years - 43 years and no complaints," he says.
"Really - no complaints?" I'm laughing because I can think of a few Mom might have.
"Nope. Wouldn't matter if we did at this point." I laughed and smiled as I could see his smart ass grin clear as day.
Then he updated me on whom of our relation are getting divorced. A few surprises, a few 'well, she/he was crazy anyway.'
"But your mother and I are hanging in there. Besides, we can't afford to leave each other anyway. How do you split up minuses? Start with a minus and divide it by two, well that just gets you deeper into the hole."
I asked about his health, which I shouldn't do because it only gets me riled up. I told him if would get more exercise I wouldn't feel the need to yell at him.
"Yeah, but you don't come home that much so it's nothing to take a little yelling over the phone. When I hang up I'm going to go back to sittin' in my chair and read my magazine. Your mother doesn't get after me anymore *laughs*".
"That's because after 43 years she's given up."
We both have a good chuckle. I tell him when I do come home I'd like for him to be there so please, please try to walk a little more and ride the four-wheeler a little less. I know nothing I say will do any good, but I feel like I should still try. Then he tells me he tripped in the barnyard and was knocked out for a little bit, should probably see the doctor. I told him he might have a concussion if he's getting headaches. "I can still talk and think, so I s'pose that's good enough." Gah.
We don't say the 'L' word in my family, being stoic Midwesterners and all, so when he says, "Yep, all right, then" to sign off, it nevertheless makes me smile.
Happy A-day, Mom & Dad!
I've been over at BrownA's talking about cows when the conversation shifted over to how my parents met. As would only be appropriate, cows were involved.
My mother grew up closer to the Detroit area on her family's "Long Barn Farm". They had a herd of Milking Shorthorns but her good 4-H cow was a Jersey.
My father grew up 100 miles away on our "Elder Creek Farm", a Brown Swiss operation. His uncle and cousins had Jerseys.
One year in the early 1960's, my mother was showing her Jersey at the State Fair in Detroit and he was helping out and showing his uncle's Jerseys. They were in a class together and she beat him. Ha!
But her girlfriend liked him so she was 'wingman' to go over and talk to the strikingly handsome and strapping young gentleman farmer.
When they both returned to college, they kept running into each other on campus and the next year at the fair, he invited her out to lunch on the Midway (prolly corn dogs and cotton candy) and she knew he was it.
If I was home and had access to pics, I would post their wedding photo (which doesn't have a single cow in view). So you'll have make do with a cow picture instead - with no Mom & DadH to be seen.
Next week they will celebrate 43 years together.
p.s. Mom told me once that she was told by her mother, "I would rather you marry a Catholic than a farmer." For the time period in question and the era's 'don't-cross-religious-lines' hardline stance, that was a pretty strong sentiment. But Mom fell in love with a farmer anyway. Somedays when she was out doing chores, she thought she should have listened to her mother. *snert*
I was shopping tonight for a birthday card for my dad. He turned 67 on Monday. Hey, at least I called last week and asked Mom if he needed anything. She said he loves the socks* I got him for Christmas, but since it's not cold anymore he's all set.
These cards cracked me up and earned me some strange looks. Does no one else break into spontaneous laughter in the grocery store? Bunch of wet blankets, my fellow shoppers were.
I'm not sure who to give this one to, I might frame it and keep it for myself.
This one was just too darn silly to pass up:
The inside of them both say: "Wishing you some very special specialness on your birthday". I guess the folks over at Hallmark used up all their creativity on the outside.
In the end, I didn't find a card I liked enough for Dad. I'll figure something out before next year's birthday comes around.
*During winter he's always complaining about his hands and feet being cold when working outdoors. I went online to REI and bought him some high-tech ski gloves and socks you would wear if you are climbing Mt. Everest. My desert REI location doesn't stock a lot of extreme cold gear. He thinks they are the greatest things ever, and will tell everyone how much he loves them, no matter how often he has already said so.
Share a story about your sibling(s) or a family member from when you were a kid.
Submitted by Jenny Marie.
You didn't think I was going to pass this one up, did you?
Let me set this up. This is a story that my dad likes to tell. It pretty much sums up life in our family during our formative years. My dad, as my mom will tell you, was into 'hands-off' parenting. He did not have a presence in our lives until we were teenagers and 'were finally interesting'. In his defense, he did save my life a couple of times when as a small child I put myself into danger around the farm. Whew!
Brother Ray is stuck firmly between Brother Steve and me in the birth order, with two years separating each sibling. He was an active child who couldn't sit still and when bored, took to picking at whomever was around until that person lost it and fought back. This was a favorite hobby of his.
My father is a wonderful storyteller, so it's hard to do him justice. But here goes:
"I was out in the shop working on a tractor when I heard the back door crash open. There goes little Raymond, running like a bat out of hell. Then the door flies open again, and here comes Steve, madder 'n a hornet.
I thought to myself, 'what in the blazes is going on here?!'
And then out comes little Amy. She couldn't have been more than five or six. She stands at the top of the steps and yells -
'Beat the shit of him, Steve! Beat the shit out of him!'
I just shook my head and thought, 'now where did she learn how to say that?'"
At this point, someone will ask him what he did next.
"Well, I sure wasn't going to get in the middle of that! I turned back around and kept working on my tractor."
