¡Mira!

Hello dear friends. Today would have been my mother's 98th birthday. Happy birthday! I still miss her so much that at times it physically hurts. Although she would have disapproved, we went out and washed her and Dad's headstones and then I poured a libation of Jack Daniels over Dad's and a good tot of gin over Mother's. My sister and I will Zoom for cocktails later today so we can toast her memory.

Other than that, I'm okay. We've both had our Moderna boosters, hurray! We both had reactions, too, though nothing as bad as we did for the second shot. Still, even though I was in bed for a day, that's nothing compared to getting Covid-19, so once again, hurray!

Lots and lots has been happening, and all of it cost money. This has been such an expensive summer. In July, we had to have our a/c replaced -- it went out on the day our weather station said it was 124F/51C in the backyard. You might remember that the shower pan in the big bathroom had been leaking, probably for years, and had damaged the wall the shower shared with the guest bath, so both had to be remodeled, and because we had no toilets or showers, we had to move out for a month. Fortunately we found a nice AirBnB literally three minutes away, and because it was August in the Phoenix area, the price was way down.

Anyway, that's done and we're delighted with the results. We also had all the floor tile in the house replaced and oh my goodness, two months later I'm still staring at the new floors in delight. Here is the big bathroom -- this is before the new glass shower doors were installed, but you can see the tile, the new paint, and the new floor:



And here is the little bathroom with new tile, new paint, and new lights:



I'm very glad all that is done, but then . . .

One day I walked out back and saw that part of the backyard was underwater. My first thought was that the drip system had sprung a leak but after a bit of poking around, I realized that it was pool water. I called the pool place where I've gone for the last five years and they knew instantly it was the auto-filler gone wrong. They walked me through shutting it off and eventually the water drained away. A few days later their technician replaced the auto-filler. Did that fix the problem? HAHAHA.

I texted him not an hour later saying the backyard was filling with water again. He came back and realized that although the auto-filler had been broken (it wouldn't shut off), there was also a leak. He had to come back three more times before we found where the water was coming from:



Obviously from somewhere under the pool decking, which required a specialist. He couldn't come out for almost three weeks but using sonar he discovered the leak was actually at the bottom of the auto-filler, where the pipe bends to go to the water supply. In a way that's good because he can cut a much smaller hole, but oh my god. He's three weeks out for everything so it'll be at least another week before he can start working on that problem.

Is that all? HAHAHA. No. I was in the den and heard a funny noise which I knew had to do with the solar heater for the pool. The pipes run up the side of the house there to the solar panels, so it's pretty obvious. I went out and discovered that the valve that turns on the solar heater was spinning around and around, rather than just turning on. It's time to drain the pipes and panels since it's too cool, even here in the low 90s/low 30s, to heat the water so I called to schedule that and ask them to check the valve. It will have to be replaced and perhaps the control box, too, so . . .

As I said, it's been an expensive year. Webster is, unsurprisingly, worried about this; is the house turning into a money pit? We know we have to replace the roof sooner than later and god knows how much that costs. I'm worried about what else will go wrong.

OH WELL.

All that said, we are managing. I'm still taking a Zoom aerobics class three times a week, and a Zoom ukulele class twice a week. Due to fears about the supply chain issues and the crappy USPS, I have already sent all our Christmas gifts so that's at least one worry checked off. If all goes well, I plan to visit friends in Sonoma County in late January; I've had tickets since 2019 but Southwest says they will honor them -- fingers crossed. We're even talking about taking a miniature vacation, like one night away! We double-mask and, as I said, are boosted, so maybe it'll be okay?

Let's see. I saw Squid Game, though I had to watch it in tiny increments because of the violence and tension, especially in that sixth episode. I really cried at that one. I adored Only Murders in the Building and am so glad there will be a second season. Now I'm re-watching the old Cowboy Bebop series in preparation for the John Cho movie. Because I won't go to a theatre, I haven't seen Shang-Chi year, though I'm looking forward to it. Haven't seen Dune and am hesitant too.

I'm reading two books with similar subject matter: California and water. One is Alta California: from San Diego to San Francisco, a journey on foot to rediscover the Golden State, by Nick Neely, and the other is The Dreamt Land: chasing water and dust across California, by Mark Arax. Both are excellent -- and worrying.

But the best book I've read this year is How to Read Water: clues and patterns from puddles to the sea, by Tristan Gooley. I loved that book so much I immediately sent one to my sister, who lives in Hawaii and is on an outrigger paddling team. I hope she likes it as much as I did.

My biggest delight this summer, though, has been watching Follow the Boat videos, made by two Brits who have been sailing (and living on their boat) for the last fifteen years. I'm hard pressed to know why I fell in love with them but they've become my new best friends who've never heard of me. When I feel sad, which is more often than I like, I watch and re-watch a couple of their videos and perk right up. They've been basically stranded off the coast of Borneo for over a year due to the pandemic but they have a lot of fun despite the problems.

Wow, that's a lot of words. Very sorry! I've been away a long time, though I read LJ and DW several times a day. I'm going to try to post more often so you know I'm still here. At any rate, hello!

We are alone at last, and it feels very strange. Everything seemed to happen so fast.

On July 30, when I went in to spend the day with my mother, she was on oxygen and looking very blue. I had already arranged for the hospice admissions nurse to come by but she looked so terrible that I texted my sister and my two cousins to share my fears. One cousin, S, lives here, and she was with me in less than an hour. She stayed all day with me, right through getting Mother on hospice. S had worked for the Veterans Administration's hospitals her entire professional life plus her step-mother suffered dementia and both she and S's dad had died in the care of hospice, so she was extremely helpful.

That Tuesday afternoon, while meeting with the hospice nurse and Mother's doctor, I called my sister, K. S was still there, and we had a conference about what would happen next. K asked when she should come out; Mother's doctor said, "You'd have a better visit if you come sooner than later." And K was here the next morning. Her wife, P, flew in on Friday morning, August 2.

So K had several days with Mother, and P had two. I went in with them, and Webster came on Saturday, August 3. We spent most of the day with Mother and she was delighted. She ate a little bit, she wanted to sit in her wheelchair for a little while, and she kept saying, This is a great day. This is a great day.

We left around 2:30 to have a late lunch with S and her husband, then K and P went back to spend another hour with Mother.

That morning, August 4, we got a call from hospice that Mother had died at 2:35am. I was shocked. How could I be shocked? But I was. Mother kept pulling out of these bad spells and I guess I was convinced she would pull out again. She always did before.

But not this time. We all got up and drove to her assisted living facility, where we spent a few minutes with her. My sister and husband were a little hesitant at first but afterwards we were all glad we had gone.

When we got to my car, the battery was dead. At four in the morning. I called AAA and they said they would be there in four hours. P suggested we call the facility's security and sure enough they gave us a jump so we could get home. AAA came later that morning and put in a new battery. But really, four hours? At 4am?

Things got busy after that: the mortuary, cemetary, the obituary, as much paperwork as buying a house . . . Mother had always been very clear that she didn't want a funeral or graveside service of any kind, but we did talk her into a party, so that's what we did. On Friday, August 9, we threw a party for her. Because my sister lived here for thirteen years and held so many parties that always included Mother, her friends remembered her and all came. It was a full house. Our cousin S and her husband were here early and stayed late to help clean up. So much food, so much drink, and I had filled the house with red roses and red carnations -- red because it was the color she could best see.

K and P were supposed to return to Hawaii yesterday afternoon, so we spent a relaxed morning and then drove them to the airport. Webster and I came home via a mall where we stopped to walk and have a bite to eat. While we were there, K texted me: their flight had been delayed four hours. I asked her if we should come get her but she said no. After we got home, she texted to say it had been delayed another three hours. They talked to the airline's customer service people and learned it would probably be canceled, so we drove back to the airport and brought them back home. We had a quiet evening eating leftovers, and K and I made a special cocktail (a cherry alexander). This morning I dropped them at the airport again; right now they are about an hour out from the island.

So for the first time in almost two weeks the house is empty. But more than that, Mother isn't here. It feels so odd, knowing that I don't have anywhere to be on Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday. How is that possible? I have all these beautiful flowers but Mother won't see them.

Not sure how to end this. She's gone, she will be missed, I'll go on for a while and then I'll be gone, too.

Mother was 95 years old, 96 in November. She had an amazing life. I have so much respect and love for her. I will never stop missing her.

I found this poem on Tumblr and then someone posted it on Great Poets on LJ. I really really like it; maybe you will, too. It seems to fit right now.

Small Kindnesses
by Danusha Laméris

I've been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say "bless you"
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. "Don't die," we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don't want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, "Here,
have my seat," "Go ahead -- you first," "I like your hat."

Today is my mother's 93rd birthday. Ninety-three! Imagine everything she's seen and done. She is such an amazing woman, born in terrible poverty with an abusive mother but she not only escaped that, she transformed herself into an entrepreneur, a wonderful mother, and a world traveler. Watching her age has been an honor; I tell her that she's teaching me how to grow old. And with such grace despite her many frailties: blind from macular degeneration, memory issues due to dementia, wheelchair bound -- but she still loves clothes and make-up and perfume (Chanel's Coco is her favorite at the moment).

We had two little celebrations for her: one on Saturday at our house and one today, her actual birthday. On Saturday I fixed tilapia in a pepper sauce with garlic potatoes, and made a drunken cherry chocolate cake for her:



It was the first time I had tried that recipe and my hat, was it yummy. I sliced the rest of the cake up and froze the pieces to take to Mother one at a time. Otherwise I would have eaten the whole thing.

Today Webster and I brought her balloons which -- oddly? -- she adored and couldn't stop talking about, plus more flowers (my sister and her wife sent her the most gorgeous bouquet from Hawaii, of anthuriums, ginger flowers, birds of paradise, yellow orchids, and several kinds of greens). Mother's oldest friend wasn't feeling well enough to come with us but she sent a very touching card about how much she loved Mother, and lots of other cards had come so we read them to her and then taped them on the wall. Then we went to lunch and that was lots of fun, too.

When I say goodbye to Mother, even though I see her at least three times a week, each time I walk away it feels as though my heart is being stretched thinner and thinner and I have a little trouble breathing. It was nice to have Webster with me today. He's so good with Mother, endless patience when she repeats herself or can't understand what's being said. Both of them are treasures in my life.

LINKS!
A former colleague sent me this link, Denmark's 'House Of Memories' Re-Creates 1950s For Alzheimer's Patients, from NPR. I like the idea very much, but in the sidebar I found this link, Seeing A Mother's Alzheimer's As A Time Of Healing And Magic, which really moved me. The line that rang so true for me: People with dementia keep their sophistication and their intentions -- they've just lost their short-term memories. They're working hard to figure out how to communicate and stay connected. Webster and I have found this with Mother, absolutely. As he says, she's still sharp as a tack; she's just lost her memory.

I adored the TV show Person of Interest and found this wonderful essay about it -- I don't remember where, maybe from my flist? Or Tumblr? Anyway, Person Of Interest Was Anti-Prestige TV And Too Smart For Primetime. What a show. Really subversive; I don't know how it ever got made.

I've linked to Atlas Obscura several times, but it had never occurred to me to use it to search places I visit. But you can! Just enter the name of the city or country you're going to visit and you get an terrific list of fascinating sights: Atlas Obscura.

This I found, I think, via Kottke.org, but who knows. Anyway, it's called Recommend me a book and that's what it does. Give it a try! At the bottom you can ask for a different recommendation if you don't like what you see.

Happy birthday, Mama. Not that you read my LJ, but I'm beaming good thoughts to you right now.

Day two! Things might be slowing down a bit at work, but I still have faculty wandering in a bit lost, and a few students, but it's much better. Two more days, then a three day weekend so we can all recover.

( So my mother: )

Today is the seventh day of 14 Valentines, a project based on the idea of fandom as a community largely composed of women and their allies and the power of the relationships there. This is my first year to participate; I chose to write an essay about domestic violence. Please take a moment to read today's 14 Valentines essay, about domestic violence.

Last year, Emeraldsword also wrote a brief essay about domestic violence that I recommend.

I've been wanting to write about my mother for years, but I find it almost impossible to. Mothers and daughters: you know the score. We had a rough time during my adolescence and again when my second husband and I got together. But that was thirty years ago, and we've both changed. Even during the worst times, however, I knew things about my mother that horrified me, and I respected her ability to survive them. But I don't know everything, because she doesn't tell me, and I'm not going to ask.

After watching 14 Valentines for the last two years, I finally decided that it provided an opportunity to write about her. I chose "domestic violence" because, I now see, that's what she lived through as a little girl. I'm sure she has never uttered those words, not even privately. But that's what it was.

Thank you MSilverstar and Slashfairy for audiencing this essay.

( for my mama )