Just to let you know, Mother-in-Law is doing so well. She is using her cane and walks with a limp, but she’s a survivor and is going to be just fine.
My biggest worry for her now is confinement. I have to work each day—sometimes long hours, even when I plan otherwise. This leaves her in the house for days at a time. And now I have this cruise with V planned (since last summer) and will be away for ten days. My son will be on premises during this period, but he works, too.
One hurdle I want to see her get over before I go is driving. Last Saturday she drove the 12 miles of our country road into town. When we reached the busy thoroughfare, however, she pulled over and asked that I take the wheel. Following that we’ve had a cold spell so deep that she hasn’t wanted to venture out, and I don’t blame her. Weather is balmier now, however, and I hope she will log some miles this weekend. I’d love to leave knowing that she has the freedom to get in her car and leave if she wants to.
The blogging has become a great hobby for her, and her daughters are loving the written record it leaves. If you haven’t visited her at Immigrant Daughter, do so sometime and encourage her. I told her the other night that I can see her “voice” developing as she writes more and more.
My Mom has struggled with low blood count (don’t know why) which makes her tired and not want to do anything. But last two visits to the Doc she did not have to take the shots, which means she is doing better; and she’s feeling better, too. We were able to have lunch together last week—eating way too much Mexican food! She had a “new” kind of taco called “old-fashioned” tacos!! The shells were the original flour kind (not corn) but were deep-fried. Looked delicious but probably an artery clogger!
As for me…I’m busier at work than a bee! This is a good/bad thing. I am thankful to have work in these times and the income it provides. On the other hand I cannot get to everything. It keeps me in a pressure-cooker but, I think, a good cooker.
And it gives me some chuckles. My job as an attorney brings me into contact with people who have lots of stress, too, and sometimes in the midst of that stress some funny situations come into play. So often I think, “I wish I could post about this…” knowing that I simply can’t because of client confidentiality. I think I have a window into a broader spectrum of American life than do most people, and I love that part of my job.
We have fun listening to people try to manage legal terms (much, I suppose, like how my doctor feels when I try on medical terminology). Just the other day we had the very-common request for a “Quick Deed.” What we know is that these people don’t necessarily need a deed rapidly; what they’ve been told (and misheard) is that they need a “Quitclaim Deed.” We also had a good laugh over a question as to whether we have a “notorious republican” in our office. The answer is “yes, we do and, by the way, we also have a notary public or two if that might be what you are actually looking for.”
But my latest amazing-funny conversation came at home. About a month ago, my neighbor, midlife country girl called me to see if I needed firewood, and gave me a number. I got voice mail and left a message but never heard back…Until just night before last. Get this scene:
Phone rings: “C? Hi, this is Tommy.” Pause, more pause
“I’m sorry, Tommy who?”
“Tommy the wood guy you called. I’m sorry I’m just gettin’ back with you but my girlfriend is still in Wyoming.”
My turn. I was fairly speechless. What on earth did his girlfriend being in Wyoming have anything to do with me? “Tommy, I don’t know whether to be sorry that your girlfriend is still in Wyoming or to say hallelujah.”
“Well, it’s jes that she has to call my voice mail from there, take down my messages, then call me back so I can write ‘em down. I don’t know how to check ‘em. She let ‘em pile up ‘fore she check on ‘em, so I’m jes’ now gettin’ back to you. But I got a good loada wood fer ya.”
“Great, Tommy! Let’s plan on this weekend. I’ll be able to meet you on Saturday.”
“Nah, I’m gonna bring it tomorrow.”
“Noooooo. I’m not able to take delivery tomorrow.
“Well, how ‘bout after work?” I didn’t want to; he wanted me to. I capitulated and met him halfway, telling him to call me mid-day so I could see if my schedule would allow me to leave early. It didn’t.
I was gone in the lunch hour—well, more than the lunch hour. I was gone for 2 ½ hours through mid day. When I checked in with the office, the staff was going nuts. He had called them a.l.l…a.f.t.e.r.n.o.o.n. This guy does not know social boundaries—at all. Here’s what my staff told me from various phone calls from Tommy: “Tommy needs you to call him, but he needs you to be quick and not make him call much more because he’s about to be out of minutes.” “Tommy wants to know how long you get for lunch, any way.” “Tommy wants to know what time you get off work.” “Tommy is threatening now, saying if you don’t call him he’ll take yer load of wood to town and sell it to someone else.”
My assistant, trying to be helpful, asked him, “How much is Ms. C going to owe you for the load of wood?” The reply: “Well, with inflation an’ all—and, too, I had to buy a new chainsaw—well, it’ll be $75.”
I have to say, I did not call Tommy back. I can buy from someone a bit less intensive. But I did think he was an interesting sort—from a distance—over the phone only, if you please.
Hope your week was good, too! C
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