Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Funeral Music: David Lanz, Christmas Eve
If you enjoyed the Christmas piano music at the funeral today and yesterday, you may want to buy the album of the guy who wrote and can really play it, David Lanz. What I played is available on his album, "Christmas Eve" and the solo piano music is also available online. These are the most amazing arrangements I have ever found, true to the originals, yet extraordinary.
Eulogizing My Mother
I had a lot of time to think out in California over these last months. I would lay in my bed at night in West Hollywood, sleepless, thinking about Mom, thinking about her life, thinking about different times we spent together as a family. And I spent a lot of thought digesting everything that happened in this last nightmarish five months, all of the things she said and did when she was manic, what this cancer was doing to our family, wondering whether we should have fought it harder, whether it would have done any good, and what we were losing with the loss of Carol.
I found I wanted to eulogize her when the time came. I wanted to take a shot at expressing what was important to her, what messages she would want us to carry forward into the future, from her legacy and the legacy of her parents and our ancestors who probably have influenced who we are more than we can know.
But how do you express a person's entire approach to life? Should I take the responsibility for doing this onto my shoulders? The answer kept coming back, "Yes". Grieving or not, I was the best person to do it. If I didn't, who would? Pastor Wentworth has had a great relationship with my Mother, but it's not the same as someone who has known her intimately for 53 years, who "grew up with her", as Mom used to say we did. She was so young and naive that she learned a lot as I learned it with her. We were very good friends.
So here is my Eulogy for Mother. I delivered it at her funeral today, holding together somehow enough to speak the words in front of her large "Rain Forest" of people who attended.
I found I wanted to eulogize her when the time came. I wanted to take a shot at expressing what was important to her, what messages she would want us to carry forward into the future, from her legacy and the legacy of her parents and our ancestors who probably have influenced who we are more than we can know.
But how do you express a person's entire approach to life? Should I take the responsibility for doing this onto my shoulders? The answer kept coming back, "Yes". Grieving or not, I was the best person to do it. If I didn't, who would? Pastor Wentworth has had a great relationship with my Mother, but it's not the same as someone who has known her intimately for 53 years, who "grew up with her", as Mom used to say we did. She was so young and naive that she learned a lot as I learned it with her. We were very good friends.
So here is my Eulogy for Mother. I delivered it at her funeral today, holding together somehow enough to speak the words in front of her large "Rain Forest" of people who attended.
Eulogy for Mother
Delivered at Carol Lee Miller’s funeral December 28, 2011 by Rebecca Miller
Do you remember the first time you realized that your parent had a name other than, "Mommy" or "Daddy"? I do.
I was little, at the old farm house on Copley Road, standing at the counter while she washed dishes, reaching up to the counter, swinging one leg, saying, "Mommy, why did Daddy call you 'Carol'?"
"Because that's my name."
"No it's not, your name is 'Mommy'!", I exclaimed.
"No, my name is 'Carol', like your name is 'Becky'. I am your 'Mommy' and you are my 'Daughter'. A 'Mommy' is what I am to you. I am your 'Mommy', but my name is 'Carol'".
"No, it's not! Your name is Mommy!" I insisted.
Well, I still want to own her, to keep her, to have her as mine, like I did 50 years ago. But Carol belongs to the ages now, and her legacy reaches beyond what I could have imagined.
She taught me everything, from tying my shoes, to riding a bike, to holding my breath under water. She answered a myriad of questions all through my childhood, with kindness and interest and truthfulness. She helped me learn to bake bread, to embroider, knit, sew, and quilt. She taught all of us to harvest vegetables, nuts and fruits, and how to preserve them by freezing or canning. The number of things Mother taught me is un-ending and they have left a huge mark on my life, formed me completely, and helped to make me and my siblings the good people we are.
Most of all, she taught us how to be independent, capable, and happy in life, how to look around at our blessings and thank God. She cultured an attitude of gratitude that we still carry with us. She sang happily around the house, she greeted Dad and us lovingly, she showed affection easily, and she was forever working, working, working, for us, her family - sewing, cleaning, canning, gardening, knitting, packing lunches, and organizing chore lists, back-to-school supplies, and camping trips.
That is how I saw my Mother in my long-ago memory. Along with Abraham Lincoln, I think, “All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel Mother.”
However, these last months have taught me a lot more about Carol. She kept a circle of friends that was broad, deep, and varied. She and Dad have known how to maintain friendships for a long time, by visiting, calling, and writing. They regularly "visited" in the old way people did, by dropping by when they were in the area, or by going out of their way to be in the area. They would call, or not, and drop in and visit. When we were kids, they'd load us in the car and "go visiting". This is an art form that as a society we are fast losing. Having 100 friends on Facebook is not the same as having a wide circle of friends that you visit regularly.
We all learned a lot about Carol when her tumors and swelling took the "filter" away between her unconscious brain and her mouth. She started speaking things that were deeply buried, sometimes scary, sometimes hilarious, sometimes wonderfully creative, and sometimes silly, like Carol singing the OSU fight song and planning to "Dot the I" with the OSU marching band, something that her conscious mind would never have done.
The focus of her imagination, though, was her people. The people in her circle, the folks she loved and visited and made quilts for - her "Rain Forest". Carol told a story over and over about how a doctor at The James Hospital commented on how large the men in her family were, after seeing several standing outside her hospital room. He said, "Those aren't men, those are trees, they're so big!" That got her started on naming everyone in her "Rain Forest".
"Come on, be in my Rain Forest!" she wrote.
"No Willow, no Sadness
No Palm
No Rats Allowed
If you like, just giggle with us
If you like, plant a tree"
Then she proceeded to name every person she knew and matched them with their "Tree Name", she called it. She had great fun with this and wrote rafts of notes on the topic, and asked everyone around her, "What kind of tree do you want to be?"
Her great-grandson, Tristan, was a "Twismas Twee" which she always spoke with a giggle. His twin brother Nathan was a "Nutmeg Tree", because they were born near Christmas. David is a Redwood, Charlie a Sycamore, Chris a Sassafras, and me "The Moon Tree" - the really tall one on County Line that we climbed as kids.
Because these people were so precious to her, Chris and I suggested she make a visual chart of her Rain Forest. Her personality at that time was so energetic and so powerful, you found yourself carried away by it, even if it was a little silly. It was precious and precocious, a little child-like, and harmless, so we went with it.
Because it is precious, I took the time to transcribe her rain forest, over several weeks, and I’ll make it available on the Blog.
I'm explaining all of this because I think it shows us the essence of Carol, of her caring for people, her concern for the lives and well-being of the people around her, and how her caring really knew no limits. It extended to every last person she knew.
Are all of us as indiscriminate with our love? Do we blanket so many people with our quilts?
I can feel myself growing bigger through this experience, shouldering the burden of loss, becoming ready to carry on the legacy: Carol’s legacy. She and Dad stepped up to follow their parents, the greatest generation, to carry their torch forward, to live their values, to be the good guys in the world. Now it becomes more our duty since Carol won’t be here to do it. The world needs her values and her goodness and generosity. So let’s remember to pay it forward. It matters what we do and how we behave with other people. The crowd here today is a testament to that idea, that it matters, that Carol touched people’s lives in ways that mattered to them.
We all have gifts for others. They may not be quilts, like Carol's, but we all have gifts for others. Are we as generous with our gifts as she was?
Shouldn't we be?
I think there's a lesson in her last days for us, now. If I had swelling and tumors in my brain, and all inhibition removed, what would come out of me?
Would it be a beautiful rain forest full of all of my loved ones? Would it be random computer program code? Bits of books I’ve read? Knitted garments I wished I had made for family and friends? Or bitterness for all of those who hurt me? Would it be ugly and mean? Would my brain, exposed, be as lovely as Carol's?
Would yours?
We are here today to honor Carol, to honor Carol's remarkable and hugely intelligent brain, and to honor her character. She did not always have a joyous life. She had a mother who didn't want her and let her know it. But in spite of that rough childhood, her difficult baby deliveries, her health problems, and the setbacks she had with her auto accidents, head injuries and broken back, her character remained true and good. She had faults, as we all do, but they were of the minor kind. Her essence remained earnest and seeking to continue to find good in those around her, and to express the good in herself.
If I have an over-riding feeling of her during childhood, this is it: that she poured her goodness into me at every opportunity, and tried to withhold her meanness and faults. Like all of us, she didn't always succeed - I distinctly remember a backhand full of dishwater when I stuck my tongue out at her once - but the point is she stayed gold.
And now, as Pastor Wentworth prayed, "Help us to remember that you are with her, Jesus, and that she has been your faithful disciple."
I'm still having a hard time letting her go, giving up that sense of her as "My Mother". But she truly is Carol, and she belongs to God. She never did belong to us. She was only on loan. And what a wonderful life with her it has been.
Carol’s last words were to her daughter, Chris. When Chris told her goodnight and said “I love you, Mom,” Mother answered back, “I love you, too.” Chris said, “Sleep with Angels!”, and she said, “I will!”
Sleep with Angels, Carol.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Surprised, on the other side of this
I'm finding myself on the other side of this tragedy, and finding myself surprised to be here. It seemed endless, these last five months, like a nightmare that would not end. Now, I'm suddenly on the other side, and I don't know what to make of it.
We are all feeling a great sense of relief and release, that Mom is now resting and that her anguish, and ours on her behalf, is over.
But what now? The missing her will begin to be more painful, I imagine.
For now, though, we are enjoying hearing about our Mother from other peoples' perspectives. One of her high school friends told me, "Oh, I just remember her so much. When I moved into the area in seventh grade, your Mom was my best friend in school that year." Another man who had a son on Dave's baseball team, which Dad coached and Mom kept score for, got me crying yesterday, saying, "Your parents were just the best examples you could imagine for those boys. She was always there, at every game, cheering them on. When I think of your Mother, I think she just embodies the word 'love'."
There were a lot of people at both viewings today. We're tired now, back at Dad's (Drew, Jess, Chris and I), and the humor is degenerating as we get sillier from fatigue. Headed to a bath and bed now.
We are all feeling a great sense of relief and release, that Mom is now resting and that her anguish, and ours on her behalf, is over.
But what now? The missing her will begin to be more painful, I imagine.
For now, though, we are enjoying hearing about our Mother from other peoples' perspectives. One of her high school friends told me, "Oh, I just remember her so much. When I moved into the area in seventh grade, your Mom was my best friend in school that year." Another man who had a son on Dave's baseball team, which Dad coached and Mom kept score for, got me crying yesterday, saying, "Your parents were just the best examples you could imagine for those boys. She was always there, at every game, cheering them on. When I think of your Mother, I think she just embodies the word 'love'."
There were a lot of people at both viewings today. We're tired now, back at Dad's (Drew, Jess, Chris and I), and the humor is degenerating as we get sillier from fatigue. Headed to a bath and bed now.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Mother's Funeral Arrangements
Calling Hours at Thorn-Black Funeral Home in Cambridge, OH
Tuesday, December 27th at 2 - 4 PM and 7 - 9 PM
Funeral Service also at Thorn-Black
Wednesday, December 28th at 11:00 AM
Followed by a graveside service and luncheon at Old Washington Presbyterian Church
Do not stand at my grave and weep
A Hopi Prayer
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet white doves in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet white doves in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
"Honey, your Mother is gone, now."
Those were Dad's words to me as I drove in to Autumn this evening, returning after visiting with Drew and Jess for a while at Dad's. Mother passed at about 6:30 this evening.
The plan had been for Drew and Jess, Charlie, Susan and Sadie to come to Dad's for breakfast this morning. That was my small attempt at having some Christmas this year. Then, I felt so rotten and jet-lagged, I didn't even get out to get the groceries for it and had to call and ask Drew to get them. After the plans were changed, Drew and Jess came anyway and had breakfast and slept a while. Jess had worked all night and Drew is always sleep-deprived, he works so much. And he already knew he didn't want to see Grandma as she had been recently.
Charlie and Susan met us at Autumn, and Uncle Ted, Cheryl, Ted's son Scott and his girlfriend visited there, and then Dad, Susan and Charlie took a lunch break while I waited at Autumn. When they returned, I headed back to Dad's for a Christmas visit with Drew and Jess for a while. We had a nice visit, chatted a lot and caught up, exchanged our gifts, and played with Benji. After they left, I started back to Autumn. Susan had contacted me because they wanted to leave so they could have some time and dinner with their kids, but wanted someone to be with Dad.
Dad walked Susan and Charlie out, then came back and found Mother completely still. He turned the lights on to be sure, then went and got the nurses and they confirmed, Mother had passed, just that quickly. He called Charlie and me right away. I called Chris, she called David. And then the chain grew to other family. Dad decided he should drive me back because I was pretty upset. I was, but it was mostly relief. I did weep over her, briefly, crying, unexpectedly even to me, "Oh, thank God, Mother!" She looked peaceful, finally. Dad and I stopped at two neighbors on the way home and we've made several more calls this evening.
We don't know yet when the funeral will be. We'll be meeting with the funeral home, Thorn and Black in Cambridge, tomorrow, and with the Pastor.
That's all the logistics of what happened.
I realize I'm pretty much leaving out the emotional part, but I'm feeling strangely not as bad as I thought I would. It has been such a long haul, and so painful for Dad and Chris, especially, recently. Today, as we chatted at Autumn, we felt pretty lucky that she had actually been herself, almost completely, until a week or so ago. Considering that it was stage 4 glioblastoma, and so many tumors, and such a large one that they removed surgically, that's pretty remarkable. And we realized that ending with "only" a week of the gut-wrenching agonizing pathetic pitiful state of being she has been in was not as bad as it could have been, either, although the weeks leading up to this last one have been no picnic. She was not in pain, even at the end, just struggling hard to breathe, but not aware of it, really. There was absolutely no expression of anything, least of all struggle, on her face. It was more like she was absent while her body still struggled to finish.
We're going to miss her every minute of every day. I already do. I've been walking around for weeks thinking, "My Mother will never do this again. Mother will never smell a flower again, never have a meal at a restaurant again." And so on. The grieving has seemed endless. I found when I visited Joann Fabrics that it was like she was right there at my elbow, commenting, talking to me. It will always be that way. We will all carry her with us.
I love that she died on Christmas Day. Dad kept saying how nice that was, that she would surely have a first-class ticket to heaven. There's something that just feels right about the way it all ended for her, with loyal and loving family around, with Christmas lights and Christmas songs and Christmas cheer all through the building at Autumn. Here, unlike in other parts of the country, folks are un-apologetically Christian and celebrating Christmas. What a great place to come home to at Christmas. What a great time for her to go home to heaven.
The plan had been for Drew and Jess, Charlie, Susan and Sadie to come to Dad's for breakfast this morning. That was my small attempt at having some Christmas this year. Then, I felt so rotten and jet-lagged, I didn't even get out to get the groceries for it and had to call and ask Drew to get them. After the plans were changed, Drew and Jess came anyway and had breakfast and slept a while. Jess had worked all night and Drew is always sleep-deprived, he works so much. And he already knew he didn't want to see Grandma as she had been recently.
Charlie and Susan met us at Autumn, and Uncle Ted, Cheryl, Ted's son Scott and his girlfriend visited there, and then Dad, Susan and Charlie took a lunch break while I waited at Autumn. When they returned, I headed back to Dad's for a Christmas visit with Drew and Jess for a while. We had a nice visit, chatted a lot and caught up, exchanged our gifts, and played with Benji. After they left, I started back to Autumn. Susan had contacted me because they wanted to leave so they could have some time and dinner with their kids, but wanted someone to be with Dad.
Dad walked Susan and Charlie out, then came back and found Mother completely still. He turned the lights on to be sure, then went and got the nurses and they confirmed, Mother had passed, just that quickly. He called Charlie and me right away. I called Chris, she called David. And then the chain grew to other family. Dad decided he should drive me back because I was pretty upset. I was, but it was mostly relief. I did weep over her, briefly, crying, unexpectedly even to me, "Oh, thank God, Mother!" She looked peaceful, finally. Dad and I stopped at two neighbors on the way home and we've made several more calls this evening.
We don't know yet when the funeral will be. We'll be meeting with the funeral home, Thorn and Black in Cambridge, tomorrow, and with the Pastor.
That's all the logistics of what happened.
I realize I'm pretty much leaving out the emotional part, but I'm feeling strangely not as bad as I thought I would. It has been such a long haul, and so painful for Dad and Chris, especially, recently. Today, as we chatted at Autumn, we felt pretty lucky that she had actually been herself, almost completely, until a week or so ago. Considering that it was stage 4 glioblastoma, and so many tumors, and such a large one that they removed surgically, that's pretty remarkable. And we realized that ending with "only" a week of the gut-wrenching agonizing pathetic pitiful state of being she has been in was not as bad as it could have been, either, although the weeks leading up to this last one have been no picnic. She was not in pain, even at the end, just struggling hard to breathe, but not aware of it, really. There was absolutely no expression of anything, least of all struggle, on her face. It was more like she was absent while her body still struggled to finish.
We're going to miss her every minute of every day. I already do. I've been walking around for weeks thinking, "My Mother will never do this again. Mother will never smell a flower again, never have a meal at a restaurant again." And so on. The grieving has seemed endless. I found when I visited Joann Fabrics that it was like she was right there at my elbow, commenting, talking to me. It will always be that way. We will all carry her with us.
I love that she died on Christmas Day. Dad kept saying how nice that was, that she would surely have a first-class ticket to heaven. There's something that just feels right about the way it all ended for her, with loyal and loving family around, with Christmas lights and Christmas songs and Christmas cheer all through the building at Autumn. Here, unlike in other parts of the country, folks are un-apologetically Christian and celebrating Christmas. What a great place to come home to at Christmas. What a great time for her to go home to heaven.
Called to Autumn this Morning
Autumn called Dad's house this morning at 6:30. Mother was worse. So he dressed and went in right away. I followed after showering and walking Benji.
Mother's heart rate was high and her pulse oxygen low. It has gotten lower even now and they can't get a reading at all. Her fingers are growing dusky.
Dad, Charlie, Susan and I have been waiting, mostly in the hall. There have been no tears, more just a sense of relief that her journey is coming to an end. She is not suffering. She does not seem to be present at all, to me. Her body is just doing its last.
Charlie said, "It would really be something if she passes today, on Christmas, you know."
"Yes poetic," I replied.
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Mother's heart rate was high and her pulse oxygen low. It has gotten lower even now and they can't get a reading at all. Her fingers are growing dusky.
Dad, Charlie, Susan and I have been waiting, mostly in the hall. There have been no tears, more just a sense of relief that her journey is coming to an end. She is not suffering. She does not seem to be present at all, to me. Her body is just doing its last.
Charlie said, "It would really be something if she passes today, on Christmas, you know."
"Yes poetic," I replied.
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Friday, December 23, 2011
Crying, Grieving, Napping: Calmer Now
I slept until 11 this morning. Chris was already gone home, Dad already back from milking. He has decided to try to pick up parts of his life again. Physical work is critical to his well-being and he needs the distraction of normal things. So he is working a few hours at the milking parlor again now.
Dad headed to Autumn, and I had a few errands to run in town, then went to Autumn. I really had to make myself get moving, get showered, try to put on a smile. At Autumn, Dad was already gone and I was trying to be resolved, to be strong and pour out good energy for Mother, and all I could do when I got in that room was cry and grieve, it's just so awful. After a while, though, I calmed and rested and even napped a bit in the easy chair holding her hand, with Benji asleep on my lap. When I woke, I was easier in my mind and more able to be there comfortably and minister the little things I could do: massage and lotion her hands, arms, feet and legs, clean her mouth a bit, apply lip balm, stroke her and tell her how much I love her.
But it all seems so little to do for her. I had no response from Mom whatsoever, and neither did the nurse when she was there. Her limbs are limp and warm, her hands so much softer now than they usually were from all the work she did and the needle pricks from quilting. The muscle tone in her hands is all gone, and her shin-bones are prominent. Her muscle tone in her legs and arms is all gone, as well. She's just fading away. Her breathing is pretty strong, though, and the nurses said all of her vitals are normal. They've now told us (of course, after I booked the flight home), that Mother could go weeks like this before passing away, or she could go quickly with a seizure.
A glimpse of Mom's room, now:
Dad headed to Autumn, and I had a few errands to run in town, then went to Autumn. I really had to make myself get moving, get showered, try to put on a smile. At Autumn, Dad was already gone and I was trying to be resolved, to be strong and pour out good energy for Mother, and all I could do when I got in that room was cry and grieve, it's just so awful. After a while, though, I calmed and rested and even napped a bit in the easy chair holding her hand, with Benji asleep on my lap. When I woke, I was easier in my mind and more able to be there comfortably and minister the little things I could do: massage and lotion her hands, arms, feet and legs, clean her mouth a bit, apply lip balm, stroke her and tell her how much I love her.
But it all seems so little to do for her. I had no response from Mom whatsoever, and neither did the nurse when she was there. Her limbs are limp and warm, her hands so much softer now than they usually were from all the work she did and the needle pricks from quilting. The muscle tone in her hands is all gone, and her shin-bones are prominent. Her muscle tone in her legs and arms is all gone, as well. She's just fading away. Her breathing is pretty strong, though, and the nurses said all of her vitals are normal. They've now told us (of course, after I booked the flight home), that Mother could go weeks like this before passing away, or she could go quickly with a seizure.
A glimpse of Mom's room, now:
Cards from lots of folks
Christmas tree from Charlie, artwork from Chris, a Salvation Army flier, artist Tom DuBois
Christmas Wall Hanging Mother Made
Everyone at Autumn has a stocking like this
Mother's embroidery, "Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."
Still up from November. Should be 108th - Mother joked that's how long they'd each been married, all added up.
"Sleep with Angels"
I'm home safe and sound, with Benji, who did great on the trip. That's a long trip. We started at 4 AM yesterday, took a taxi to the Burbank airport which was a joy compared to LAX. Then, an hour from Burbank to Las Vegas. Benji could not understand why we didn't get off the plane when it stopped, but the attendant was nice and let him have his head out of the case to stretch. Then four and a half hours from Las Vegas to Columbus, where Chris was waiting to take us to Cambridge, another two hours with the Columbus traffic. I'd not eaten since breakfast, but Chris had a smoothie and nuts waiting. And we stopped at The Forum in Cambridge for dinner, then went to Autumn.
Charlie and Susan were there, but Dad had just left. Mother lays in her low bed completely still except for her breathing, which is erratic. Her swelling seemed less than when I saw her on Skype, but that happens with no liquid intake. I held her hand and kissed and stroked her, but got no response I could be sure of. Her eyelids flickered a little and I thought her limp hand moved once, but I couldn't be sure. She had been silent except for once yesterday morning. When Nurse Jessica asked how she was doing, she said, "Not too good."
We visited with Charlie and Susan a little bit, in the hallway, then said goodbye.
When Chris went in she said, "Good night, Mom. I love you." and to her surprise Mom replied, "I love you too." Chris said, "Sleep with Angels," and Mom said, "I will."
Charlie and Susan were there, but Dad had just left. Mother lays in her low bed completely still except for her breathing, which is erratic. Her swelling seemed less than when I saw her on Skype, but that happens with no liquid intake. I held her hand and kissed and stroked her, but got no response I could be sure of. Her eyelids flickered a little and I thought her limp hand moved once, but I couldn't be sure. She had been silent except for once yesterday morning. When Nurse Jessica asked how she was doing, she said, "Not too good."
We visited with Charlie and Susan a little bit, in the hallway, then said goodbye.
When Chris went in she said, "Good night, Mom. I love you." and to her surprise Mom replied, "I love you too." Chris said, "Sleep with Angels," and Mom said, "I will."
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Homebound Itinerary
Southwest Airlines
DEPART DEC 22 | 7:10 AM Burbank, CA (BUR) to Stops in Las Vegas, NV 3:40 PM Columbus, OH (CMH) | Flight #612 | Thursday, December 22, 2011 Travel Time 5 h 30 m (1 stop, no plane change) |
RETURN JAN 2 | 11:55 AM Columbus, OH (CMH) to Stops in Chicago, IL 2:50 PM Arrive in Las Vegas, NV (LAS) | Flight #408 | Monday, January 2, 2012 Travel Time 7 h 55 m (2 stops, includes 1 plane change) |
3:45 PM Change  in Las Vegas, NV (LAS)4:50 PM Burbank, CA (BUR) | Flight #1 |
White Dog, Black Clothes
Well, the decision has been made. I am packing to go home to Ohio instead of Tucson tomorrow. Crazy Benji always curls up on my clothes when I lay them out. White dog, black clothes.
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Song of the Day: Breath of Heaven
Amy Grant sings a Christmas song, Breath of Heaven, that came to mind today. It's about Mary and her fears before the birth, but the chorus is for Mom, for us, for our family, now:
...I am waiting
in a silent prayer
I am frightened
by the load I bear
In a world as cold as stone
Must I walk this path alone?
Be with me now
Be with me now
Breath of Heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of Heaven
Breath of Heaven
Lighten my darkness
Pour over me, your holiness
For you are holy
Breath of Heaven
Do you wonder
As you watch my face
If a wiser one, should have had my place?
But I offer all I am
For the mercy of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me
Breath of Heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of Heaven
Breath of Heaven
Lighten my darkness
Pour over me your holiness
For you are holy
Breath of Heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of Heaven
Breath of Heaven
Lighten my Darkness
Pour over me your Holiness
For you are Holy
Breath of Heaven
Breath of Heaven
Breath of Heaven
You Don't Need Wings to Be and Angel - Thanks and Praise for the Staff at Autumn Healthcare
Chris and Dad have been talking about wanting to express their thanks to the staff at Autumn Healthcare. Dad said that as soon as he got any money ahead, he would want to give them restaurant gift certificates or something. But today when they checked about doing that, they found out that the Autumn staff are not allowed to accept any sort of gifts from us.
Still, Chris was going to get a treat basket of some sort together, and she composed this note to go with it:
Still, Chris was going to get a treat basket of some sort together, and she composed this note to go with it:
To all the staff at Autumn Care Center, the Carol Miller family would like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. You are all providing 'Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Men'. May the Lord bless each and every one of you for the smiles and caring you provide to so many. We cannot adequately express how much your caring has meant to our mother, Carol, and all of us. You are the Angels among us and we thank you very sincerely,
The Millers
Clammy But Happy
This morning I had no vertigo! So got out and walked Ben and got all ready for work, then started feeling clammy again, so took my temperature and I'm still running a low-grade fever. So I called my boss and explained and told him I thought I'd better keep my germs at home. He was great and glad to know it's a bug.
Ryan, my co-worker from Symphony, walked Benji last evening for me because I was still loopy, and Benji gave him a hard time on the leash for the entire first half of the walk. Then, when it was just as close to come back to me by going forward as it was going backward, he behaved and went forward as usual. He's a Mommy's boy and he knows I've been unwell. Ryan enjoys him and said when the weather gets a little warmer he'd like to come get him for long walks. I said Benji would love that and he said, "Well, besides, he'd be useful, sort of...." And I exclaimed, "As a chick-magnet? Oh, I see!" We laughed about that. That's fine, Benji enjoys being a people magnet. Ryan is young and handsome and single and recently moved hotels to be up on the Hollywood strip right by the Kodak Theater where the Academy Awards are held, and Grauman's Chinese Theater. So he's closer to me and Benji now. I thought he may want to use our nice pool, but he has his own rooftop pool at the hotel.
This morning I got to Skype with Chris, Dad, Charlie and Mom! She was responding with hand pressure and eye blinks when they talked to her, so Chris got me online and I was able to say a few words to her. Chris had brought in the Christmas wall hanging Mother had made with the animals all around the Christmas tree and it's hanging above her bed. And the people from their church sent a beautiful flower arrangement. She has lots of cards and letters from friends and family displayed there, too. It did me good to be able to assure her that I'm out here in California thinking of her there. Chris has been playing a CD of hymns on piano and I told her that I play for her always in my imagination. She responded with eye blinks. It did me a world of good to see and talk to them. I felt less far away and alone.
Ryan, my co-worker from Symphony, walked Benji last evening for me because I was still loopy, and Benji gave him a hard time on the leash for the entire first half of the walk. Then, when it was just as close to come back to me by going forward as it was going backward, he behaved and went forward as usual. He's a Mommy's boy and he knows I've been unwell. Ryan enjoys him and said when the weather gets a little warmer he'd like to come get him for long walks. I said Benji would love that and he said, "Well, besides, he'd be useful, sort of...." And I exclaimed, "As a chick-magnet? Oh, I see!" We laughed about that. That's fine, Benji enjoys being a people magnet. Ryan is young and handsome and single and recently moved hotels to be up on the Hollywood strip right by the Kodak Theater where the Academy Awards are held, and Grauman's Chinese Theater. So he's closer to me and Benji now. I thought he may want to use our nice pool, but he has his own rooftop pool at the hotel.
This morning I got to Skype with Chris, Dad, Charlie and Mom! She was responding with hand pressure and eye blinks when they talked to her, so Chris got me online and I was able to say a few words to her. Chris had brought in the Christmas wall hanging Mother had made with the animals all around the Christmas tree and it's hanging above her bed. And the people from their church sent a beautiful flower arrangement. She has lots of cards and letters from friends and family displayed there, too. It did me good to be able to assure her that I'm out here in California thinking of her there. Chris has been playing a CD of hymns on piano and I told her that I play for her always in my imagination. She responded with eye blinks. It did me a world of good to see and talk to them. I felt less far away and alone.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Still Out Of Commission
I had vertigo again this morning so have been home from work again. I think it's a bug though because I seem to be running a low grade fever. The vertigo has not been as bad as yesterday but is lasting longer into the day. I've asked my friend Ryan from work to come walk Benji and he is glad to help out.
Mother continues to be worse. She has not been conscious for many hours now and can no longer take liquids. They have begun oxygen as comfort care. Chris was there all day but sent Dad home after a while because he was too emotionally distraught. They had dinner with Charlie and Susan and were back at Autumn but heading home for some rest.
Here is a great pic I snapped on the couch today. I took pillows and comforter there because the view off the balcony is nicer there, looking out to the side of a green ravine. It was a pretty day here but we missed it. Still my faithful companion has been very patient. He watched me curiously lurch around this morning so I think he understands I am not up to par.
This is one of those big-eyed Beanie babies. He asked me very nicely for it at the Tucson airport. We had seen them there before and I said no, but this time he just asked so nice and looked so longingly that I gave in.
Seriously, he looked at them and at me and said, "Mom I really still do like those guys and I'll be good with it. I promise I won't destroy him or destuff him or anything. So please can't I have just one????? Hmmmmmmmm???"
He did already chew the nose off though.
and another
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Mother continues to be worse. She has not been conscious for many hours now and can no longer take liquids. They have begun oxygen as comfort care. Chris was there all day but sent Dad home after a while because he was too emotionally distraught. They had dinner with Charlie and Susan and were back at Autumn but heading home for some rest.
Here is a great pic I snapped on the couch today. I took pillows and comforter there because the view off the balcony is nicer there, looking out to the side of a green ravine. It was a pretty day here but we missed it. Still my faithful companion has been very patient. He watched me curiously lurch around this morning so I think he understands I am not up to par.
This is one of those big-eyed Beanie babies. He asked me very nicely for it at the Tucson airport. We had seen them there before and I said no, but this time he just asked so nice and looked so longingly that I gave in.
Seriously, he looked at them and at me and said, "Mom I really still do like those guys and I'll be good with it. I promise I won't destroy him or destuff him or anything. So please can't I have just one????? Hmmmmmmmm???"
He did already chew the nose off though.
and another
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Monday, December 19, 2011
Still Doing Well Here
From Texts to Chris:
i am still better but a little nauseous. took ben out and drove to post office to drop checks for the taos workers and to dog park and did fine. it seems to have passed for now.
chris i received your gift and i am absolutely stunned!! i literally gasped when i opened the necklace you made. its exquisite and youre right its exactly the right thing for me here and now and it looks beautiful with my skin. i am supposed to audition tomorrow and have a new black jersey top with open neck and lots of gathers on it, shirred to one side over the breast. this set will be amazing with it. i think i will wear one of the sets of earrings with it you already made like the one with a low dropping crystal.
benji smelled it and knew it came from you. i think he knows somethings bad with mom when u and i are in phone like today. he totally understands things
its the best ever i think. i love it!
Here are photos of the wonderful handiwork of Chris that I received this evening. The photos don't do them justice.
Also today I received news that my flooring is completed at Taos Place.
It's so odd that on some levels life goes on, while on other levels one is utterly destroyed. Chris and I can alternate between talking about our dying Mother and this beautiful jewelry. I guess it says something about our resilience as human beings, or maybe it's our denial and disbelief.
Sometimes lately I think I'm moving from shock and disbelief to acceptance and resignation. I've noticed before while grieving how totally human we remain even in our saddest moments. People eat a lot after funerals, and move their bodies and talk like life is normal. All at the same time life has become anything but normal. How do we do it? How do we keep going on, when part of us wants to scream and collapse? There's something in us that presses us forward, some basic brain signals that move us, that enable us to keep talking and walking, all the while wondering just how that's possible when such a large part of our lives has gone forever. How do we do it?
i am still better but a little nauseous. took ben out and drove to post office to drop checks for the taos workers and to dog park and did fine. it seems to have passed for now.
chris i received your gift and i am absolutely stunned!! i literally gasped when i opened the necklace you made. its exquisite and youre right its exactly the right thing for me here and now and it looks beautiful with my skin. i am supposed to audition tomorrow and have a new black jersey top with open neck and lots of gathers on it, shirred to one side over the breast. this set will be amazing with it. i think i will wear one of the sets of earrings with it you already made like the one with a low dropping crystal.
benji smelled it and knew it came from you. i think he knows somethings bad with mom when u and i are in phone like today. he totally understands things
its the best ever i think. i love it!
Here are photos of the wonderful handiwork of Chris that I received this evening. The photos don't do them justice.
Also today I received news that my flooring is completed at Taos Place.
It's so odd that on some levels life goes on, while on other levels one is utterly destroyed. Chris and I can alternate between talking about our dying Mother and this beautiful jewelry. I guess it says something about our resilience as human beings, or maybe it's our denial and disbelief.
Sometimes lately I think I'm moving from shock and disbelief to acceptance and resignation. I've noticed before while grieving how totally human we remain even in our saddest moments. People eat a lot after funerals, and move their bodies and talk like life is normal. All at the same time life has become anything but normal. How do we do it? How do we keep going on, when part of us wants to scream and collapse? There's something in us that presses us forward, some basic brain signals that move us, that enable us to keep talking and walking, all the while wondering just how that's possible when such a large part of our lives has gone forever. How do we do it?
Everyone Resting Now
Dad and Chris went back to the farm to rest. Chris hadn't eaten and had headache and they both needed a break. They prayed again with the Pastor and Chris said Mom's eyelids moved like she knew they were there. That's as much response as they are getting now. They were planning on going back later in the night if they could. They left Mom resting peacefully.
Better Now
I am better than this morning. Still feeling a little off, but I've been up and around without vertigo, and was able to eat a bit. Slept about three hours on the couch with my faithful companion. The worst was not being able to take him out. I finally grabbed a tall umbrella for support and went downstairs to our complex dog park in my jammies and clogs. I found I was not the only one in very casual attire and messed up hair.
I've been looking online at causes of vertigo, but nothing seems clear. I'm hoping it's a bug and it will go within a day or so.
I have been texting with Chris today because she went back down to be with Dad and Mom. They feel Mother's road to heaven is short now. The Pastor was there praying with them, but Mother didn't know it. Charlie took Dad to eat and have a break because he had not eaten all day. Chris, of course, is overwrought. I keep reminding her what good she is doing there. I hope that helps her a bit. There's so little I can do here except be a sounding board for those dealing with the most ugly details of the destruction of my Mother.
I've been looking online at causes of vertigo, but nothing seems clear. I'm hoping it's a bug and it will go within a day or so.
I have been texting with Chris today because she went back down to be with Dad and Mom. They feel Mother's road to heaven is short now. The Pastor was there praying with them, but Mother didn't know it. Charlie took Dad to eat and have a break because he had not eaten all day. Chris, of course, is overwrought. I keep reminding her what good she is doing there. I hope that helps her a bit. There's so little I can do here except be a sounding board for those dealing with the most ugly details of the destruction of my Mother.
Almost Christmas!
Things are looking a bit dim here today. Yes it's almost Christmas. Most of my shopping and shipping is done but as usual I had hoped to do more. And plan to do more for my Tucson folk Friday. But myohmy am I sick today.
I noticed some vertigo when I got up in the night. So reminded myself to take it slow getting up in the morning. Good thing I did. Every time I stand or sit or shift position the world starts rolling crazily and I get nauseous and clammy. Yuck! So I have decided to stay down!
I used a tall umbrella for balance to get downstairs long enough to let Benji pee. But he's all whiny wanting his walk and worried about me.
And Mother's decline is very painful to watch. Praise the Lord she is not in pain, though! Her confusion is greater. She makes little sense when she talks now and doesn't often talk. She is still eating but chokes a lot. Chris said she saw a definite decline from Wednesday to yesterday and the nurses are noting it as well.
Benji just came over and climbed up on me here on the couch and whimpered over me then cuddled up. So maybe the song of the day is, "I'd do anything for you, dear, anything, for you dear, anything for you!" from Oliver I think it was. You may not have known this, but I pretty much have songs in my head most of the time.
So there you are. True confessions.
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I noticed some vertigo when I got up in the night. So reminded myself to take it slow getting up in the morning. Good thing I did. Every time I stand or sit or shift position the world starts rolling crazily and I get nauseous and clammy. Yuck! So I have decided to stay down!
I used a tall umbrella for balance to get downstairs long enough to let Benji pee. But he's all whiny wanting his walk and worried about me.
And Mother's decline is very painful to watch. Praise the Lord she is not in pain, though! Her confusion is greater. She makes little sense when she talks now and doesn't often talk. She is still eating but chokes a lot. Chris said she saw a definite decline from Wednesday to yesterday and the nurses are noting it as well.
Benji just came over and climbed up on me here on the couch and whimpered over me then cuddled up. So maybe the song of the day is, "I'd do anything for you, dear, anything, for you dear, anything for you!" from Oliver I think it was. You may not have known this, but I pretty much have songs in my head most of the time.
So there you are. True confessions.
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Friday, December 16, 2011
Results of Lab Tests - and My Legs
All normal except one liver enzyme test slightly high. We've seen that before and my PCP monitors it. I have my MRI last Monday. I can't get into the doctor to review the results until January 9th, though.
In the meantime, my legs are still very painful. I had a few days this week when I thought they were getting better, but the last two have been bad again. They get so bad I can't walk fast at all, I'm walking very stiffly, and literally am struggling to make it across the street before the lights change.
So I'll be eager to hear what the rheumatologist here says on the 9th and what the next steps will be toward tracking this down. Both the rheumatologist and my chiropractors say it seems like a vascular problem because it stops hurting when I stop moving. We shall see.
In the meantime, my legs are still very painful. I had a few days this week when I thought they were getting better, but the last two have been bad again. They get so bad I can't walk fast at all, I'm walking very stiffly, and literally am struggling to make it across the street before the lights change.
So I'll be eager to hear what the rheumatologist here says on the 9th and what the next steps will be toward tracking this down. Both the rheumatologist and my chiropractors say it seems like a vascular problem because it stops hurting when I stop moving. We shall see.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Today's Song: "Benji's Song"
This is one I made up for Benji. We sing it when dog walking or bathing.
He's my little angel, angel, angel.
He's my little angel Butterfly Dog.
He always gives me kisses.
He always wants to play.
He always loves me best of all
'Cause I'm the Mom, "Hurray!"
He's my little angel, angel, angel.
He's my little angel Butterfly Dog.
He always gives me kisses.
He always wants to play.
He always loves me best of all
'Cause I'm the Mom, "Hurray!"
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Over the Rainbow, Song of the Day
I woke up singing Over the Rainbow, for some reason. As much as I talk about being blue, there's something in me still optimistic, I guess - like my Mother.
Best done by Eva Cassidy and Linda Eder, IMHO. Other than the obvious, Judy Garland.
Over The Rainbow
Songwriters: Arlen, Harold; Harburg, E.Y.;
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
Best done by Eva Cassidy and Linda Eder, IMHO. Other than the obvious, Judy Garland.
Over The Rainbow
Songwriters: Arlen, Harold; Harburg, E.Y.;
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
A Cheery Pair, We Are
Text this morning from Chris: Becky I thought Mom appeared much more swollen Sunday. She is swollen in her face, neck and hands. She hardly looks like Mom. Dad has noticed it too. She eats fine, chewing OK. We are just both sensing a decline.
Later I received email from Chris, "Becky the tears are just a rolling this Monday AM again. As I drove out of Dad's drive yesterday I was struck by how too-large the place seems now with just Dad there. It hit me that I will probably never see our Mother there again, and she is everywhere on that hill. I walked by her hollyhocks walking Sam and was admiring their pine grove she has tended to faithfully. This really sucks and I need love and hugs so bad. Jen just sent me an I love you from school via text and I told her it couldnt have come at a better time. I just think I somehow keep on my game face while I'm down south with them but either I get tired or just have too much time for reflection when I get home and the sadness overwhelms me. This SUCKS! I'm sorry. I will go walk the dogs and not bring you into my depression cellar."
And in response to some blurbs about Amy and Chaz Miller that I'd found on the Muskingam College website, chatty things about where they are and what they're doing now, Chris wrote, "Chris Richards is working on keeping her sanity and trying to locate the meaning in her life!"
Yes, she and I are a real cheery pair these days.
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Later I received email from Chris, "Becky the tears are just a rolling this Monday AM again. As I drove out of Dad's drive yesterday I was struck by how too-large the place seems now with just Dad there. It hit me that I will probably never see our Mother there again, and she is everywhere on that hill. I walked by her hollyhocks walking Sam and was admiring their pine grove she has tended to faithfully. This really sucks and I need love and hugs so bad. Jen just sent me an I love you from school via text and I told her it couldnt have come at a better time. I just think I somehow keep on my game face while I'm down south with them but either I get tired or just have too much time for reflection when I get home and the sadness overwhelms me. This SUCKS! I'm sorry. I will go walk the dogs and not bring you into my depression cellar."
And in response to some blurbs about Amy and Chaz Miller that I'd found on the Muskingam College website, chatty things about where they are and what they're doing now, Chris wrote, "Chris Richards is working on keeping her sanity and trying to locate the meaning in her life!"
Yes, she and I are a real cheery pair these days.
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Monday, December 12, 2011
Story Pirates
I've been meaning to tell you about something I did weeks ago. Uncharacteristically, I actually got "out" in the evening. Usually by the time I work and take care of Benny, it's all I can do. But my co-worker, Ryan, was going to this "thing" and invited me, and I was feeling up to it, so I went. The thing turned out to be a combination sketch comedy, stand-up comedy, kids story telling drama event, where adults act out stories written by children. It's part of a literacy initiative.
It was a riot - I loved it.
Read all about it here, and if you ever get the chance, go to check it out.
http://storypirates.org/
It's on the UCLA campus. We had dinner at a vegan restaurant afterwards, then went to the "must go" place for dessert, Diddy Reese's.
It was a riot - I loved it.
Read all about it here, and if you ever get the chance, go to check it out.
http://storypirates.org/
It's on the UCLA campus. We had dinner at a vegan restaurant afterwards, then went to the "must go" place for dessert, Diddy Reese's.
Grieving in My Sleep
I keep waking at 4:00 AM crying, having had some dream about Mom. Even though I don't do a lot of crying every day, it's catching up with me in my sleep.
One dream took place at our old house on County Line, and for some inexplicable reason, water was rushing in from under the base boards, to about 4 inches, very rapidly, while I was hollering for help. Mom and Dad came in and said, "No problem, we'll take care of it. Not a big deal." Next flash I remember in my dream was the kitchen all dry and them saying they had put the water away in the cupboard. When I opened the cupboard, which was now my linen closet on Taos Place, I found all the water put away, stacked in shallow pans, like cake pans and shallow Tupperwares, with paper towels draped over them. Odd. Says a lot about my sense of impending doom. Not sure what it says about their solution! Probably that it's inexplicable, like God and the way he has set up this crazy world.
Benji has become suddenly more loving. Maybe he hears me crying. Thursday evening after we were settled at Taos Place watching TV at the end of the evening, he very deliberately climbed onto my lap, put a paw on each shoulder, looked me in the eye, and started licking my face and neck. That is unusual. He's a licker/kisser, but usually on the hand or arm on the fly-by. This was new, and it has continued. Either he's being sympathetic, or he's especially happy with me because I've been getting him to the dog park more frequently in the last week. Or he just felt loving.
One dream took place at our old house on County Line, and for some inexplicable reason, water was rushing in from under the base boards, to about 4 inches, very rapidly, while I was hollering for help. Mom and Dad came in and said, "No problem, we'll take care of it. Not a big deal." Next flash I remember in my dream was the kitchen all dry and them saying they had put the water away in the cupboard. When I opened the cupboard, which was now my linen closet on Taos Place, I found all the water put away, stacked in shallow pans, like cake pans and shallow Tupperwares, with paper towels draped over them. Odd. Says a lot about my sense of impending doom. Not sure what it says about their solution! Probably that it's inexplicable, like God and the way he has set up this crazy world.
Benji has become suddenly more loving. Maybe he hears me crying. Thursday evening after we were settled at Taos Place watching TV at the end of the evening, he very deliberately climbed onto my lap, put a paw on each shoulder, looked me in the eye, and started licking my face and neck. That is unusual. He's a licker/kisser, but usually on the hand or arm on the fly-by. This was new, and it has continued. Either he's being sympathetic, or he's especially happy with me because I've been getting him to the dog park more frequently in the last week. Or he just felt loving.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
I'm just a Modern Day...
My co-consultant, Ryan, said a friend was questioning him about his living arrangements.
"So you just stay wherever the work is? Go wherever the job takes you? Don't even really need to have a home base?"
"Yep,"
"Well, you're nothing but a modern day hobo!"
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"So you just stay wherever the work is? Go wherever the job takes you? Don't even really need to have a home base?"
"Yep,"
"Well, you're nothing but a modern day hobo!"
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Benny's Report Card
Bemny got in trouble in daycare today for humping and head-butting. imagime that!! but otherwise had a great time playing with his best friend Buster. I get a report card.
On the way to LAX for Tucson now. Flooring project in progress there - yippee!!
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On the way to LAX for Tucson now. Flooring project in progress there - yippee!!
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Location:West Hollywood
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Me in LA - Trying to Look Stylish
My rental car is a Hyundai Santa Fe, not because I wanted that, but because they wanted to give me something I could keep for six months. Must not get a lot of requests for that.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
A Question Too Big for Santa Claus
While walking Benji last week on Sunset Boulevard, I was accosted by elves. They’ve been around the city at the sites of huge billboards promoting the upcoming movie, “Arthur Christmas (Wrap Star)”. It looks like it could be a fun movie. The elves were dressed the like the characters on the billboard, with military-style jump suits on, and rolls of wrapping paper crossed on their backs, stocking caps, pointed ears. They were having fun being silly and drawing attention to themselves, up on the walkway below the billboard, asking for toys for their charity toy drive. As I walked past below with Benji at 6:15 AM (I believe they have long hours, those elves), one of them yelled down in an exaggerated British accent, “’Ello there! Have a 'appy Christmas, there, young miss! And what would you like Santa to bring you?” I stared up, opened my mouth to say something, and found myself speechless. I had no words for him. It was a question too big for Santa. I had no ready answer. I finally blurted something like, “I haven’t the faintest idea” and moved on, I think.
But as I walked, I pondered the question. What would it be? Oh yes, I had my eye on some new knitting needles that I don’t absolutely need, but would like playing with. A nifty set of circulars with inter-changeable tips. I had thought about treating myself to them. But that seemed like the most superficial of questions to ask myself and do at this time.
What would I want if I could have anything at all in the world?
I’d want an end to my Mother’s suffering, very soon. And that’s a request way too big for Santa Claus.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Trouble Walking
You know I have mentioned having trouble with the big hills in West Hollywood. It really goes beyond that and has been going on for 15 years or so. I remember struggling to keep up in downtown Columbus when I worked for Huntington. It has gotten really bad again here lately, even just walking a flat block between my parking lot and office building.
So I decided to take advantage of all this world class healthcare around here and get a work-up. I knew if I went to a rheumatologist here as a new patient that I'd probably get a good bunch of tests. That is what happened. I am just returning from that appointment (by Cedars shuttle bus) now.
Blood drawn, MRI to come.
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So I decided to take advantage of all this world class healthcare around here and get a work-up. I knew if I went to a rheumatologist here as a new patient that I'd probably get a good bunch of tests. That is what happened. I am just returning from that appointment (by Cedars shuttle bus) now.
Blood drawn, MRI to come.
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Song Lyrics of the Day:
I was thinkimg of this song and played it over the weekend. I can pretend my good thoughts go with Mom in her misery.
The Blessing
In the morning when you rise
I bless the sun, I bless the skies
I bless your lips, I bless your eyes
My blessing goes with you
In the nighttime when you sleep
Oh I bless you while a watch I keep
As you lie in slumber deep
My blessing goes with you
This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do
And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too
When your weary heart is tired
If the world would leave you uninspired
When nothing more of love's desired
My blessing goes with you
When the storms of life are strong
When you're wounded, when you don't belong
When you no longer hear my song
My blessing goes with you
This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do
And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too
I bless you
And you bless me, too
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The Blessing
In the morning when you rise
I bless the sun, I bless the skies
I bless your lips, I bless your eyes
My blessing goes with you
In the nighttime when you sleep
Oh I bless you while a watch I keep
As you lie in slumber deep
My blessing goes with you
This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do
And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too
When your weary heart is tired
If the world would leave you uninspired
When nothing more of love's desired
My blessing goes with you
When the storms of life are strong
When you're wounded, when you don't belong
When you no longer hear my song
My blessing goes with you
This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do
And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too
I bless you
And you bless me, too
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Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Rainy Day Visit
From Chris: Good Morning I'm spending a rainy Tues visiting with Mom. the hospice chaplan was just in and prayed with us Mom is sleeping mostly no pain she says
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Wednesday, November 23, 2011
News of the Day
I decided to go to Tucson for Thanksgiving, not to Ohio, after all. I reconsidered when the flight rates dropped, but still decided not to put myself through the long travel on this holiday weekend. It would set me back, healthwise, and emotionally, and I have started to more forward in both respects. And Mother doesn't even want to talk to me by phone lately, she is so poorly.
Chris says she took a little yogurt and water for her this morning, but is very sleepy. Pray for Chrissy's little Sammie, her Papillon. They think he may have a dislocated hip and he is in a huge amount of pain.
Just got this note from Jane Patty, ""Becky we are half way to Ohio, Mom is tolerating the ride, she's trying to hide how much pain she's in. We'll be there soon."
I wish I had known they were still planning to come - that may have swayed me. But it's probably best this way. I told Chris I feel badly about not coming for Thanksgiving and Amy's wedding and she said, "I don't think we'll be having too good a Thanksgiving this year, anyway." I said, "All the more reason I should be there." Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?
Benny and I will experience the joy of LAX at Thanksgiving this afternoon and will be home this evening through Sunday. My friend Page and I will be having a meal together tomorrow and I hope to hike with Tamera and Kevin, other friends. And hopefully see Karen and Kendra and get some work done at the house. And piano practice. And massage/chiro/acupuncture. And a haircut. And yoga. (my legs are still screaming from the hills near the apartment here)
And rest, lots of good rest in my own bed.
Chris says she took a little yogurt and water for her this morning, but is very sleepy. Pray for Chrissy's little Sammie, her Papillon. They think he may have a dislocated hip and he is in a huge amount of pain.
Just got this note from Jane Patty, ""Becky we are half way to Ohio, Mom is tolerating the ride, she's trying to hide how much pain she's in. We'll be there soon."
I wish I had known they were still planning to come - that may have swayed me. But it's probably best this way. I told Chris I feel badly about not coming for Thanksgiving and Amy's wedding and she said, "I don't think we'll be having too good a Thanksgiving this year, anyway." I said, "All the more reason I should be there." Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?
Benny and I will experience the joy of LAX at Thanksgiving this afternoon and will be home this evening through Sunday. My friend Page and I will be having a meal together tomorrow and I hope to hike with Tamera and Kevin, other friends. And hopefully see Karen and Kendra and get some work done at the house. And piano practice. And massage/chiro/acupuncture. And a haircut. And yoga. (my legs are still screaming from the hills near the apartment here)
And rest, lots of good rest in my own bed.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Song Lyrics for the Day, "Going Home"
Heard this over the weekend on a CD of Chloe Agnew's (she's one of the Celtic Women, the most beautiful voice you ever heard).
Going home, going home
I'm a going home
Quiet like, some still day
I'm just going home
It's not far, just close by
Through an open door
Work all done, care laid by
Going to fear no more
Mother's there, expecting me
Father's waiting, too
Lots of folk gathered there
All the friends I knew
All the friends I knew
Home, home, I'm going home
Nothing's lost, all is gain
No more fret nor pain
No more stumbling on the way
No more longing for the day
Going to roam no more
Morning star, lights the way
Restless dream all done
Shadows gone, break of day
Real life has begun
There's no break, there's no end
Just a living on
Wide awake, with a smile
Going on and on
Going home, going home
I'm just going home
It's not far, just close by
Through an open door
I'm just going home
Going home, going home
I'm a going home
Quiet like, some still day
I'm just going home
It's not far, just close by
Through an open door
Work all done, care laid by
Going to fear no more
Mother's there, expecting me
Father's waiting, too
Lots of folk gathered there
All the friends I knew
All the friends I knew
Home, home, I'm going home
Nothing's lost, all is gain
No more fret nor pain
No more stumbling on the way
No more longing for the day
Going to roam no more
Morning star, lights the way
Restless dream all done
Shadows gone, break of day
Real life has begun
There's no break, there's no end
Just a living on
Wide awake, with a smile
Going on and on
Going home, going home
I'm just going home
It's not far, just close by
Through an open door
I'm just going home
Sunday, November 20, 2011
We're Not in Kansas Any More, Toto
Benny and I are learning a lot:
1) They love(d) halloween here.
2) The driving takes some getting used to. There is no "leading left" at the lights like there is in AZ. That's when after all the straight green lanes go, then the left lane goes. Not so here, and they honk rudely when you mess it up. They honk rudely if you make a complete stop at a stop sign or look both ways before going, too.
3) Room service is expensive. I ordered oatmeal, an English Muffin and OJ the first morning and it was something like $6 + $8 + $2. with the fees they tacked on plus tip it was $25!! For oatmeal!!
4) It takes a long time to boil water here. The man who brought breakfast at the hotel apologized for its delay, explaining that it takes a long time to get the water boiling in the morning. I laughed out loud thinking he was joking, only to turn and see he was dead serious!
5) "The Help" is generally not acknowledged here and they are surprised when you notice them as human beings.
6) You could lose the hair from your arm (or the arm) from the passing of fast cyclists and skateboarders on the sidewalk. You don't even hear them coming, then suddenly whoosh - and I feel like I should be spinning like on the cartoons in reaction to a fast passer. Whew!
7) There are women here who really look like that "Cootchy Cootchy" lady - Charo - with stretched skin over skeletal cheekbones and lips smeared across their faces. Or else I saw her on Santa Monica Boulevard when she stopped to admire Benji.
8) There really are women here who walk like they are on a fashion runway all the time. Even at Cedars in IT - complete with the very high heels. Some women are also so caught up in themselves and their image of how to be that they pointedly look askance at my flat shoes and big booty. I have a few words for them: Get real, get some decent values that are not centered on one-upmanship and get over it.
9) One is in danger of aquiring an Asian English accent working here in IT. The majority of the staff are Chinese or Asian Indian so you start wanting to talk in very precise clipped rhythms just to fit in! and the boss is Jamaican, I think, so i have to try to re-tune my ear to understand him. The other day I had a meeting with an Armenian(?) woman and a Australian woman and I had a terrible time understanding them - more so the Australian!
10) My hotel was near Melrose and La Cienega. One evening we walked north to Santa Monica Boulevard and then west on it, and suddenly, Toto, we were not in Kansas any more. It dawned on me gradually that I was seeing exclusively male couples of a distinctive sort. And then a lot of men's underwear stores. And paraphernalia of a disturbing sort. You know, leather, chains, etc.
Benji is thriving on the variety and all the people loving him, and lots of dogs to greet.
While working on the apartment search:
1) Creepy guy who said he'd come out to get me at the street then didn't. When I called he said, "How am I supposed to know you're here if you don't get out of the car?". I replied, "Because I'm the only one out here and I have the dome light on so you can see me!". It was a strange neighborhood. Remote, very dark. I was not sure I wanted to get out of the car there but the guy sounded OK - and gay. Still, at that point I said, "OK, lets just skip it." Suddenly it didn't feel right any more.
2) Gay pretty young woman and her friend who seemed disappointed in me. Turned out to be a room-mate sitiation which was not clear in the ad.
3) Pretty nice quintessential Hollywood 1940's place, a small complex with pool in the middle, all facing the pool. Furnished bedroom, living room, kitchen, bath. Parking garage. coin laundry. Pretty good. Nice neighbors. Very nice neighbor Corgi who Benji liked a lot.
4). Very small furnished bedroom, kitchen, bath, adjoined to a house. Parking in driveway.
5) Park LaBrea which was beautiful. Across from LACMA and the La Brea tar pits. Very nice, fully furnished and you could pick your furnishings. But - $500 per month in pet rent in addition to steep pet deposits.
And yes, Chris, I checked the mattresses for bed bugs!!
It all worked out for the best in the end. As Benji told you, our new place is awesome! Very quiet and nice friendly people. I met the man downstairs earlier in the week when he was out in his back "yard" (aka the pool deck) and my landlord had told me he had a piano and would probably be open to my playing it. I finally worked up the nerve to ask him yesterday and went down to play it today. I'd never heard of the brand - Petroff - but it's a fabulous instrument and I really warmed up, finally, and my head got on straight enough that by the end I was playing pretty decently. I think it's time to audition.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
1) They love(d) halloween here.
2) The driving takes some getting used to. There is no "leading left" at the lights like there is in AZ. That's when after all the straight green lanes go, then the left lane goes. Not so here, and they honk rudely when you mess it up. They honk rudely if you make a complete stop at a stop sign or look both ways before going, too.
3) Room service is expensive. I ordered oatmeal, an English Muffin and OJ the first morning and it was something like $6 + $8 + $2. with the fees they tacked on plus tip it was $25!! For oatmeal!!
4) It takes a long time to boil water here. The man who brought breakfast at the hotel apologized for its delay, explaining that it takes a long time to get the water boiling in the morning. I laughed out loud thinking he was joking, only to turn and see he was dead serious!
5) "The Help" is generally not acknowledged here and they are surprised when you notice them as human beings.
6) You could lose the hair from your arm (or the arm) from the passing of fast cyclists and skateboarders on the sidewalk. You don't even hear them coming, then suddenly whoosh - and I feel like I should be spinning like on the cartoons in reaction to a fast passer. Whew!
7) There are women here who really look like that "Cootchy Cootchy" lady - Charo - with stretched skin over skeletal cheekbones and lips smeared across their faces. Or else I saw her on Santa Monica Boulevard when she stopped to admire Benji.
8) There really are women here who walk like they are on a fashion runway all the time. Even at Cedars in IT - complete with the very high heels. Some women are also so caught up in themselves and their image of how to be that they pointedly look askance at my flat shoes and big booty. I have a few words for them: Get real, get some decent values that are not centered on one-upmanship and get over it.
9) One is in danger of aquiring an Asian English accent working here in IT. The majority of the staff are Chinese or Asian Indian so you start wanting to talk in very precise clipped rhythms just to fit in! and the boss is Jamaican, I think, so i have to try to re-tune my ear to understand him. The other day I had a meeting with an Armenian(?) woman and a Australian woman and I had a terrible time understanding them - more so the Australian!
10) My hotel was near Melrose and La Cienega. One evening we walked north to Santa Monica Boulevard and then west on it, and suddenly, Toto, we were not in Kansas any more. It dawned on me gradually that I was seeing exclusively male couples of a distinctive sort. And then a lot of men's underwear stores. And paraphernalia of a disturbing sort. You know, leather, chains, etc.
Benji is thriving on the variety and all the people loving him, and lots of dogs to greet.
While working on the apartment search:
1) Creepy guy who said he'd come out to get me at the street then didn't. When I called he said, "How am I supposed to know you're here if you don't get out of the car?". I replied, "Because I'm the only one out here and I have the dome light on so you can see me!". It was a strange neighborhood. Remote, very dark. I was not sure I wanted to get out of the car there but the guy sounded OK - and gay. Still, at that point I said, "OK, lets just skip it." Suddenly it didn't feel right any more.
2) Gay pretty young woman and her friend who seemed disappointed in me. Turned out to be a room-mate sitiation which was not clear in the ad.
3) Pretty nice quintessential Hollywood 1940's place, a small complex with pool in the middle, all facing the pool. Furnished bedroom, living room, kitchen, bath. Parking garage. coin laundry. Pretty good. Nice neighbors. Very nice neighbor Corgi who Benji liked a lot.
4). Very small furnished bedroom, kitchen, bath, adjoined to a house. Parking in driveway.
5) Park LaBrea which was beautiful. Across from LACMA and the La Brea tar pits. Very nice, fully furnished and you could pick your furnishings. But - $500 per month in pet rent in addition to steep pet deposits.
And yes, Chris, I checked the mattresses for bed bugs!!
It all worked out for the best in the end. As Benji told you, our new place is awesome! Very quiet and nice friendly people. I met the man downstairs earlier in the week when he was out in his back "yard" (aka the pool deck) and my landlord had told me he had a piano and would probably be open to my playing it. I finally worked up the nerve to ask him yesterday and went down to play it today. I'd never heard of the brand - Petroff - but it's a fabulous instrument and I really warmed up, finally, and my head got on straight enough that by the end I was playing pretty decently. I think it's time to audition.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Post from Chris today
mom was OK today no apparent pain but very sleepy jami and chaz are in town all visited and Mom is very bravely sweetly hanging in there
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
From Thursday - At LAX returning rental car
It has been a cool adventure. Beautiful sunny day, 64 degrees. I dropped a car (and company) that would not allow me to extend my rental for the next five months. Then I took their shuttle to LAX and got off the first place they stopped because it didn't matter what airline I was near, I was just going downstairs to get the new rental car company’s shuttle.
Well it looked so different from the Southwest terminal! I was in the international area. Standing waiting for the shuttle outside I saw a lot of little Asian pilots and tiny "stewardesses" in their modern slim skirts with hair in chopsticks. It felt like I was suddenly in a foreign country, with signs for Malaysia, Philippines, Thai, Swiss, etc airlines. There were very few Caucasian faces and very little English spoken. One man was carrying a Chinese(?) department store bag with a beautiful Asian woman on it in an elegant modern black dress. But she looked uncannily American, with a high bridge to her nose and wide eyes and her perfect heart-shaped face. So beautiful! I had read that plastic surgery for those two things, in China, has become very common, to heighten the nose bridge and open those inner eye "pockets" (not sure that's what they are really called). So interesting.
I overhear folks with lots of heavy accents on lunch break at work, talking about their long flights home, their investment adventures on the stock market, what's up, what's down. They seem so worldly and able, working here, knowing a second language well enough to do this very complicated technical work. Pretty impressive.
I also asked a cab driver one evening about his accent and he said that he is Armenian. I had heard the same accent at work a lot and wondered. He asked a lot of questions about my ancestry. It seemed to matter to him. When I said that the greatest part of my lineage is Hungarian, my paternal grandmother’s father having come over to escape the Boer wars, he told me about Armenian history. He said that scads of Armenians had escaped a civil war and come to the Los Angeles area, that there is a large community of Armenians here. But there are two groups, one of which had done a huge genocide against the other. This was before the Jewish genocide that we all think of, and it killed many more people, but most Americans aren’t aware of it the way that we are of the Jewish holocaust. So there is still resentment in America between these two groups of Armenians. He knew by my co-worker’s first name that he was one of the “other” ones.
I know that my Dad and lots of other people right now are concerned about so many immigrants coming into America, but I can’t seem to see it as a problem without feeling hypocritical. Since Grandpa Kosh immigrated, that makes me only a third generation American on that side of my lineage. How could I say that others shouldn’t be allowed to come here and seek a better life for their families like he did?
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Good words to live by from Edith Wharton
I ran across this quote this morning that I'd tucked away and kept on my frig for a while at Murphys Pond. It seems especially apropro now:
In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.
In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Lingering Unhappily
Hi all. Havent been writing much because the news from Ohio is often beyond awful. Benji and I continue to have our adventures in West Hollywood and have settled well into our new pad. And I'm doing well at work. But our life here seems surreal and dream-like, running parallel and far away from the family life in Ohio which is nightmarish. Chris said last week, "When am I ever going to wake up from this nightmare!"
Mother continues to decline. She is completely immobile and it takes four people to move her at times because she is completely unable to help them. She has declined music therapy (a woman who comes to play and sing) and often prefers to lay in the dark without visitors. She often feels its too much to deal with now.
But Chris says "mom and i visited the caribbean today via a magazine eric sent me. [I suggested] to be on vacation instead of the reality to relax us. she liked that idea. She enjoyed the beautiful pictures and told me to thank him which i have. i wasnt sure she would even look at it but i told her we would pretend we were on vacation in the caribbean isles."
So they had a few moments of niceness today. But Mom is making it clear that she does not want to be here any more and is ready to fly away. Unfortunately we don't get to choose the time.
I keep bumping into or remembering or seeking out lyrics of songs that remind me of life with her or how I am thinking about her so much now. Every fourth thought belongs to her most of the time. It makes it hard to function but I'm struggling along. It seems so false, to put on the fake happy face (which feels like it must look like a grimace) and chit chat about mundane things with people, but I cling to those moments because they are fleeting breaks from the tape that plays in my head about Mom all the time.
Cedars Sinai hospital where I work now was given a grand piano which they put in a lobby. They have asked employees who can play to volunteer. I was the only one who came forward and they said I can although not one of their employees. I have to audition informally which makes me nervous. I got out lots of music over the weekend but really struggled because I am so out of practice and have been completely away from my piano for months. I found that I need to stick to easy stuff I've played for years or practice a lot before auditioning. I asked my landlord here (who has been super nice making sure we have everything we need) whether he knew of anyone in the building here with a piano. My neighbor directly below has one and I am going to get introduced to ask the favor of being allowed to practice there. I'd really like to be able to share the old Christmas music from Grandma Swain's old book at the hospital, the new David Lanz Christmas music (modern arrangements - he's a new age composer) that I've been learning the last few years. I'm sure my playing won't be Hollywood style, but it will be heartfelt and homey and that may be a good thing to offer here in glitter-land.
I have always imagined playing as though someone is listening because it helps me to spin out my magic into the air. Mom has always been my most avid listener and I play most often for her. Already it's not the same. Part of me wants to run from it and the pain of that loss.
But the bigger part of me wants to keep playing for her, whether she is listening from the same room, watching over my shoulder at the hospital, in Ohio at Autumn, or in heaven. She has always been my biggest fan, for my piano, and my life.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Mother continues to decline. She is completely immobile and it takes four people to move her at times because she is completely unable to help them. She has declined music therapy (a woman who comes to play and sing) and often prefers to lay in the dark without visitors. She often feels its too much to deal with now.
But Chris says "mom and i visited the caribbean today via a magazine eric sent me. [I suggested] to be on vacation instead of the reality to relax us. she liked that idea. She enjoyed the beautiful pictures and told me to thank him which i have. i wasnt sure she would even look at it but i told her we would pretend we were on vacation in the caribbean isles."
So they had a few moments of niceness today. But Mom is making it clear that she does not want to be here any more and is ready to fly away. Unfortunately we don't get to choose the time.
I keep bumping into or remembering or seeking out lyrics of songs that remind me of life with her or how I am thinking about her so much now. Every fourth thought belongs to her most of the time. It makes it hard to function but I'm struggling along. It seems so false, to put on the fake happy face (which feels like it must look like a grimace) and chit chat about mundane things with people, but I cling to those moments because they are fleeting breaks from the tape that plays in my head about Mom all the time.
Cedars Sinai hospital where I work now was given a grand piano which they put in a lobby. They have asked employees who can play to volunteer. I was the only one who came forward and they said I can although not one of their employees. I have to audition informally which makes me nervous. I got out lots of music over the weekend but really struggled because I am so out of practice and have been completely away from my piano for months. I found that I need to stick to easy stuff I've played for years or practice a lot before auditioning. I asked my landlord here (who has been super nice making sure we have everything we need) whether he knew of anyone in the building here with a piano. My neighbor directly below has one and I am going to get introduced to ask the favor of being allowed to practice there. I'd really like to be able to share the old Christmas music from Grandma Swain's old book at the hospital, the new David Lanz Christmas music (modern arrangements - he's a new age composer) that I've been learning the last few years. I'm sure my playing won't be Hollywood style, but it will be heartfelt and homey and that may be a good thing to offer here in glitter-land.
I have always imagined playing as though someone is listening because it helps me to spin out my magic into the air. Mom has always been my most avid listener and I play most often for her. Already it's not the same. Part of me wants to run from it and the pain of that loss.
But the bigger part of me wants to keep playing for her, whether she is listening from the same room, watching over my shoulder at the hospital, in Ohio at Autumn, or in heaven. She has always been my biggest fan, for my piano, and my life.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
I like it here! (from Benji)
Mom found us a great haven! It's really quiet and beautiful here, and interesting with lots of dogs. I can look out the sliding glass door to the pool area and the ravine beyond because we're on this big steep hill. It's all green and lush. It hurts Mom's legs to take me walking around here, though, but she seems to be getting better at it already. I want to run up the hill, but she can't keep up. And I want to run down to Sunset Boulevard to see the sights and all the dogs and visit all the restaurants and shops. I guess I've become a city dog because I really like that, now.
The floors in this place are nice and warm because Mom says they have heaters. I hang out on the bathroom rug a lot, or in her closet where her smell is with all her clothes. I like it there when she's gone at work. I'm OK with that routine, already. We have our rituals. She gives me one-two-three cookies when she's leaving for a long time, like for work. Then I know it's my turn to watch the house and I have to be a good boy and wait a long time before I can pee outside. Then she comes and we walk right away and I get to explore the neighborhood as long as her legs hold out and it's not too cold.
Here is our new address through mid-April sometime. Mom says we'll be visiting Tucson, but staying most of the time here in West Hollywood.
1230 HORN AVE APT 515
WEST HOLLYWOOD CA 90069-2118
There's lots of security here, too. Everything has fences and locks and needs keys or buzzers. And all the cars are underneath the apartments.
Here's a quick pic of our new place. Mom says she knows she owes you guys some posts and will catch up soon.
Love,
Benji
The floors in this place are nice and warm because Mom says they have heaters. I hang out on the bathroom rug a lot, or in her closet where her smell is with all her clothes. I like it there when she's gone at work. I'm OK with that routine, already. We have our rituals. She gives me one-two-three cookies when she's leaving for a long time, like for work. Then I know it's my turn to watch the house and I have to be a good boy and wait a long time before I can pee outside. Then she comes and we walk right away and I get to explore the neighborhood as long as her legs hold out and it's not too cold.
Here is our new address through mid-April sometime. Mom says we'll be visiting Tucson, but staying most of the time here in West Hollywood.
1230 HORN AVE APT 515
WEST HOLLYWOOD CA 90069-2118
There's lots of security here, too. Everything has fences and locks and needs keys or buzzers. And all the cars are underneath the apartments.
Here's a quick pic of our new place. Mom says she knows she owes you guys some posts and will catch up soon.
Love,
Benji
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