Maybe I should take over the cooking again...

   Jan 26, '09 5:23 PM
for everyone

Sunday night, we put the kids to bed, and I went to make Chonas (that's Nachos for anyone who doesn't live with Anagram man). We eat a lot of nachos on the weekend, as it is our favorite snack food. Usually it's just tortilla chips and cheese, but that night, it was dinner not a snack, so we were going to add "Jeremy's special recipe taco meat" to the chips and colby jack cheese. I grabbed the cookie sheet and handed it to Jeremy who was already standing at the sink washing dishes.

"Hey love, could you wash this up quick?" I asked.

"Why? We only cooked French Fries on it earlier today. Just brush the crumbs off. It'll be fine." Jeremy had cooked dinner in the middle of the day as is our Sunday tradition.

I looked at him like he grew two heads.  He started to laugh because he knew he was being gross. I looked down at the pan in my hand and noticed some stuff stuck to the bottom of the pan that suspiciously looked like dried baked-on shredded cheese.  "Did you wash this pan before you cooked the fries?"

He started to laugh. "It was ok. It was all dried on. I just had to scrape it off."

I just looked at him.  His face contorted with un-vocalised laughter. I looked at him some more. He doubled over, he was laughing so hard. Tears began to stream down his face.

"I can't believe you fed my babies, MY BABIES, food off of a dirty cookie sheet," I said in mock horror. I was disgusted, but it's really hard to get angry with this man. I've been married to him for almost fourteen years. Nothing surprises me much anymore.

"It was ok. It was just baked on cheese. I scraped it off." He gasped between fits of laughter.

"Yeah, and then you were trying to convince me to scrape off the french fry crumbs and cook on it AGAIN!" Jeremy doubled over again.  I was trying hard not to smile. "You can't just use something for food, then scrape or brush off the remainders, and then cook, bake, or eat off of it again."

"It's Fiiiiiiiiiiiiine," he said with exaggerated hand gestures. He grabbed a bowl out of the sink and pretended to hand it to me. "There's only a little bit of mold on the bottom. Here, use this, have some cereal. Don't worry about the curdled milk either. Food poisoning? That's for wimps.  Where's your iron stomach, soldier?"

Sigh.

Shhhhh

Slowly

 hypnotically

 the white sprinkles down.

Falling

falling

rhythmically

gently

quietly.

Cold.

Wet.

Coated trees.

Blanketed ground.

Shapeless men.

Vegetable faces.

Boot tracks.

Sled traces.

Muffled footsteps.

Muted laughter.

Metal scrapes.

Slurried wheels

 Slushy road.

Familiar sounds.

 (c) 2009 mrm

Why me?

The morning started out hectic, like always. It was my turn for the neighborhood car pool since our school district doesn't bus the kids to school.  My kids were moving slower than molasses. And in the middle of my fifth reminder to "get your shoes on", I got a phone call.

"Mama, who's Sun Cocoa, Applus?" Ruth read the caller ID as she handed me the phone. "Sunoco, A-plus," I corrected.  I had a bad feeling about this.

"Hey babe. What happened," I knew it was Jeremy. I saw his cell phone sitting on the piano, uncharged, which explained why he was calling from a gas station.

"Um, I ran out of gas."

"Well, you're just going to have to wait. I have to get the kids to school and neighbors are depending on me."

"Uh, Ok. Um, when will that be?'

"I don't know. I'm still in my pajamas with a pair of jeans. I haven't brushed my teeth. Nor put in my contacts, I need to shower...and I have an Echo-cardiogram at eleven. I wont have time to come back and do those things, so I guess you'll have to wait till I'm ready. Maybe you should call your work." (Do I really have to tell him these things?)

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea. I'll call my boss."

"Where did your car die?"

"On the exit ramp. I walked the rest of the way to the gas station. I was going to walk to work, but it was too cold."

I sighed the sigh of the beleaguered housewife, and hung up.

Around 9:15, after I had dropped everyone off, and put myself together, I called to tell him I was heading out the door. Panic began to bloom in my chest as I encountered an accident on my way to get him. My valiant rescue had a time constraint, and I wasn't sure what to do. So I called him again.

"Go through the city."

"Isn't that slower? Will I have time?"

"Actually it's faster, and you will have time."

So I plodded my way through red light after red light (faster my...) until I finally got to his place of employment. Apparently his boss picked him up at the gas station. He jumped into the car and I felt compelled to lecture.

"The car was near E two days ago when I had it and ran the 2 blocks to the convenience store." I know I could have tanked it up for him, but since he never tanks me up, I wasn't feeling so kindly towards him on Wednesday. Only today did I remember why I'm often the one to fill up the cars.

He shrugged sheepishly, and I wanted to kill him. "I dunno." Honestly, it's worse than dealing with a teenager sometimes. "My gas light must be broken though."

"You can't rely on that. You need to fill it up when it gets into the 'red zone' on the meter. Sheesh!"

"I know. I know. Do you have to lecture?"

"Don't you think I have a right to have at least ONE little lecture?"

"I guess so." We were silent for a few minutes. "I just thought I could make it one more time."

Trying my hardest to not beat my head against the dashboard, I threw him an incredulous look. "You can't just think you can make it 'one more time!' You've been running around on E for TWO WHOLE DAYS!"

"I thought you weren't going to lecture anymore."

"You started it again."

He had the gall to look amused.

 "I'm not laughing," I flatly declared, clearly annoyed.

He laughed.

"Really, I don't find this funny at all. My whole morning was messed up."

He tried to contain his chuckle with a snort.

"And REALLY walking to work? Do you know how far it is? It would have taken you an hour from where the car died."

"Yeah, besides that I was cold. My ears were about to freeze off, they hurt so bad."

"Didn't you wear the hood on your jacket?"

"Uh, no."

"Why not? It's freakin' below zero with that windchill!"

"I didn't want to mess up my hair." I just stared at him. This is the man whose hair performs an anti-gravity maneuver all weekend long because he doesn't feel like combing it, often leaving the house looking like he just got out of bed, too.  I couldn't stop staring at him. "What?" He finally broke the silence.

"You. Didn't. Want. To. Mess. Up. Your. Hair?" I asked. "Since when have you ever cared about your hair?"

This started another round of laughter from Jeremy and a bunch of one liners in his 'monty python' voice. "What? What's that? I can't hear you. I have no ears. Have you noticed my flowing locks?" "Who needs ears when you've got a lovely mane of hair." "My ears have fallen off from frostbite, but look I've got great hair!"

Sigh.

Like we need more talking candy...

Don't get me wrong. I love those conversation hearts. And I'm used to the corny little two word phrases. That's half the fun. But really Dove, must you?


Today I ate my lunch and had my usual dessert: Chocolate.  And one of my favorites at that: Dove Dark Chocolate, with almonds. Mmmm.  I've noticed for at least a few years now, that Dove has decided to get in line with Necco's valentine hearts and Chinese Food's Fortune Cookies by writing little ditties on the inside of their individually wrapped chocolates. But no matter how bad a fortune cookie fortune can be, and we all know they can be pretty spectactular, I'm thinking Dove has managed to stoop lower.  I don't usually read these, but today I did. I even sacrificially ate six pieces just to share the inifinite wisdom of the Dove candy fortune writers.


"Discover how much your heart can hold."


How much my heart can hold what? Blood? No...probably not blood. It is a candy company, and chocolate at that. Chocolate? Discover how much chocolate my heart can hold? Perhaps, but really, I'd prefer my stomach hold the chocolate.


"Do something spontaneous."


Like eat an entire bag of Dove Chocolate? Sadly that wouldnt be so spontaneous for me.


"Believe in those you love."


Maybe I'm not the sappy type. This just made me want to gag. You want me to eat your chocolate right, Dove? Not gag on it? Ah ha! I see I spoke prematurely...


"Chocolate Always Loves you Back."


I'm supposed to believe in those I love. All those Dove dark chocolate with almond pieces I just shoved into my heart spontaneously, because, after all Chocolate Always Loves Me Back.  Dove said so. Two times, as a matter of fact. One wrapper after another proclaimed it. It must be true. I'm a true believer now, in the ones I love. Thanks Dove.


"Exercise your heart today."


Interestingly enough, I feel after six pieces of chocolate, I've come full circle, back to the heart. I suppose this is the politically correct health conscious wrapper. I mean, I already indulged in all that spontaneous chocolate that I believe in, because it loves me back, doubly so. The flab that wiggles around my middle definitely confirms it. Dove wouldnt be a conscientious candy company without it's own special brand of health warning. "Exercise your heart today." Does Godiva care as much as Dove? Apparently not. Godiva has never asked me once to jog after I've indulged in a box of Her chocolates. Hmph.


I guess I really should go for a jog or something...



Nah.

Good Bye, Grandpa

Thursdays were his day off. He was a pharmacist by trade, and often worked weekends.  And occasionally, on a thursday, my sister, Sara, and I would spend the day with him.  Inevitably, we'd ask Grandpa to get out the wheelbarrow and being a doting grandfather, he would.  We loved whenever he got out the wheelbarrow because we knew he was going to take us to the creek to throw rocks.  Sara would climb into one side, and I would climb into the other. Grandpa would push us down the road to where the asphalt gave way to a rock drive. We'd climb out the wheelbarrow and spend plenty of time picking up the pebbles and dumping them into the wheelbarrow.  After tossing a mountain of stones into the creek, and a thorough soaking of our sneakers, we'd pile back into the wheelbarrow and head back to his home.

September eighteenth marked his ninetieth birthday.  He still possessed a sharp mind, a quick wit, and a kind heart. Grandpa thought of others before he thought of himself. He was the consummate flirt, and could charm any woman of any age.  They loved and adored Grandpa at his assisted living.

October came, and he came down with pneumonia. Over the last few months, he's been in and out of the hospital. And each time he went in, a little more of him wasted away.  Three weeks ago, he entered the hospital one last time. His living will was very specific, no antibiotics, no life support of any kind. Nothing.  So, we've been watching and waiting for Grandpa to pass.

Last evening at five, my father called me and told me that Grandpa wasn't going to make it through the night. He had periods of severe apnea that were coming closer together. I made it to the hospital and was met by my family. One nurse who had been caring for him for weeks, was still sitting in his room. She was off the clock, having started her shift at three that morning, and working till noon, and yet she stayed. She was afraid she would miss his passing, as she had the weekend off.  At around eight, her parents came to pick her up, afraid she'd be too tired to drive home.  It was the most touching thing I've ever seen.

Sara, my parents and I stood vigil by Grandpa's deathbed watching and waiting. We laughed a little. We cried a little. We sang hymns. We told him it was ok to go. He didn't need to hang on any longer. His gasping was hard to hear, but as the evening wore on, he began to look less like he was struggling, and more like he was sleeping, bearing a peaceful countenance upon his face. As a family, we were undecided to stay or go. There was no way of telling how much longer he'd go on. We only knew it would be soon.

At one in the morning, we all decided to give up the vigil. We figured he could be yet another day and might need our strength to see it through.  Catching a nurse just outside his room, Dad let her know we were leaving.  She comforted us the best she could.  "Sometimes patients wait till after a holiday. Sometimes they wait till a relative from out of town gets to them. Sometimes they wait till the family leaves to pass, I think, because they don't want the family to see them that way. They might not seem aware, but I think maybe they're more aware than we realize." 

I walked to the car, got in, called Jeremy who, bless him, waited up for me.  Crying off and on the short ten minute ride to my house, I hoped I wouldn't get into an accident from blurry eyes. Jeremy greeted me with a huge hug and just held me while I told him how awful the roller coaster of emotions was, and how I didn't want to leave him to die alone. It was more awful to not know what to do, than was the thought of his actual passing.  We went to bed, and three hours later, my father called and woke me to let me know Grandpa had finally passed.

I am grateful for the long life he had. I'm grateful he didn't really suffer too badly at the end. I knew he wouldn't live for ever. But, I can't help miss him already.

Good bye, Grandpa.