Thursday, August 17, 2006
Apple Pie, Bette Davis and Mother
Costco, one of the many places, and the only grocery, to which I ran errands yesterday, did indeed have apple pie, a caramel apple pie, so I picked it up, remembering my mother's Cosmos inspired desire for apple pie. Since that was one of the errands I ran in the morning before she awoke, I geared our day toward an apple pie Just Desserts dinner. Although I'm not a fan of apple pie, I had a piece and it was pretty good...both tart and sweet, the apples crisp, the caramel not overdone. Made me wonder what kind of apples Costco uses. I'll have to remember to ask.
Although I haven't written much, lately, about what Mom and I have been doing, I've gotten her out a fair amount over the last week. I guess I just didn't realize it. Yesterday, though, all that movement kicked back on her and she was a little stiff and her knee was a little wobbly, so we spent the day in. I didn't even ask her to go with me on an afternoon errands...I just did them while she was taking a nap. Although I haven't kept up with reporting over at The Dailies (I mean to catch up today; there were two days, though, in which we didn't bother with stats, we were too busy), she's been keeping up with her 12 hour night sleep days, pretty much. I was hoping to move her awake time up closer to noon, but, instead, it's moved back to about 1400! "Last night", in fact, after awakening at 1400, she was up until almost 0230 while we finished off the Bette Davis movie The Star. The highlight of the movie, by far, though, was Now, Voyager.
Ahhh...well, my writing of this post was interrupted by Mom awakening on her own at 1215! Considering when she went to bed, this is a coup!
As I continue this post, beginning at the time noted in the byline, she's in for a nap, after a good breakfast, a refusal to go with me on a very short errand to pick up some of her special shampoo (I guess she's going to need a couple days to rest up after all the activity during the last week), a lunch of flavored cheeses and Parmesan cracker bread and one and a half more Bette Davis movies.
Something I was cut off from mentioning earlier, an incident during our watching of Now, Voyager. If you've seen it, you know that, as in many movies of that era, cigarettes figure in the film. In this movie "Jerry", "Charlotte's" married lover, makes a habit of continually lighting two cigarettes at once, one for himself and one for Charlotte. I cringed the first time I saw this happen, thinking, Yeow! Although she's ignored all the rest of the smoking during the movie, this'll do the trick. Thus, I was startled when my mother reacted almost immediately, "Your father did that once. I cured him of it."
Don't ask me why I responded as follows, it could have been unwise, but it didn't seem to matter, "But, Mom," I said, "I thought that was supposed to be a romantic gesture."
She snorted. "How could something that looks so silly be romantic?!? Those cigarettes sticking out of his mouth like that, he looks like a, a,"
"Walrus?" I provided.
"I was thinking of something worse, but that's bad enough!"
At any rate, through all the Bette Davis movies we've watched, so far, yesterday and today, she hasn't "looked for something" the entire time. I'm relieved, although I imagine I'll continue, for awhile, to cringe and expect the inevitable, which may no longer be inevitable, every time someone lights up on the screen.
This morning, as I met my mother in the bathroom after I noticed she was up, she greeted me with, "Where is everybody?"
"You and I are here, the kitties are here, so everyone who belongs here is here," I said. "Who do you mean?"
"Well," she explained, "I'm not sure, but I expected to hear talking when I woke up this morning."
I chuckled. "If you'd let me know that last night, Mom, I could have produced a loud, animated conversation with myself."
She smiled, but only slightly. "Well, what about Dad?"
As I always do when she mentions "Dad", I asked, "Your Dad or my Dad?"
"My Dad, of course!"
Instead of bluntly reannouncing his death, this morning, for some reason I ignored it and said, "Ahh, he must have been visiting with you last night [meaning in her sleep, but, you know, I'm no longer sure of the parameters of her sleep, so I avoided this word, also]. Since you were expecting to hear conversation when you awoke this morning, you must have been hosting a reunion of all your loved ones last night!" I don't know why, but just saying this brought tears to my eyes; not sad tears, mind you...not even poignant, since the feeling that evoked the tears had no hints of bitterness; although it was unbearably sweet. "Oh, look," I said, a little embarrassed, "just the thought of that makes me cry."
As usual, my thoroughly unsentimental mother waved away my emotional leakage. "Well, I don't know why," she said, "You were here, too. And, where's MPS? She was here."
Ahh, I thought. So, this time, we were "here" and not "there". Insteresting change. "MPS has gone back to Chandler, Mom," I said. Fairly recently, in fact, a couple of months ago, after she and MPNC visited for a few days. I continued, "Now I know why I slept so restlessly, last night. I was actually partying with you and our family!"
Anyway, she's been in a very good mood, today, feeling a what she describes as "a little constipated", which surprises me, because she had an excellent bowel movement, yesterday. She's been gassy, though, I've noticed, probably from the apples in the pie last night and the Cobb salad we had the night before. She's been in such a good mood, in fact, that while we were bathing her and I mentioned I needed to go get some paper underwear for her, she burst into a chorus of, "I under wear my baby is tonight," to a tune I've never heard. She couldn't remember where she'd learned it, although she mentioned she's known it "forever". Probably from her college days.
She's back up from her nap, now, at 1930. She asked me where "Mother" keeps her Milk of Magnesia. Asking for something like this is unusual for her, so I gave it to her, knowing that she knows when she needs it, if she asks for it.
After I gave her a couple of Tablespoons of it, she asked, "Where's Mother?"
"Wasn't she at the get-together last night?" I asked.
"Well, yes, but they've all gone home."
"I guess she must have gone home, too, then."
"Yes," Mom said, "I guess you're right. We'll have to do that again, soon."
I'm sure we will.
We've got a date with yet another Bette Davis movie, Dark Victory. We decided to put off seeing the rest of The Letter, as neither of us was really getting into it.
Later.
Although I haven't written much, lately, about what Mom and I have been doing, I've gotten her out a fair amount over the last week. I guess I just didn't realize it. Yesterday, though, all that movement kicked back on her and she was a little stiff and her knee was a little wobbly, so we spent the day in. I didn't even ask her to go with me on an afternoon errands...I just did them while she was taking a nap. Although I haven't kept up with reporting over at The Dailies (I mean to catch up today; there were two days, though, in which we didn't bother with stats, we were too busy), she's been keeping up with her 12 hour night sleep days, pretty much. I was hoping to move her awake time up closer to noon, but, instead, it's moved back to about 1400! "Last night", in fact, after awakening at 1400, she was up until almost 0230 while we finished off the Bette Davis movie The Star. The highlight of the movie, by far, though, was Now, Voyager.
Ahhh...well, my writing of this post was interrupted by Mom awakening on her own at 1215! Considering when she went to bed, this is a coup!
As I continue this post, beginning at the time noted in the byline, she's in for a nap, after a good breakfast, a refusal to go with me on a very short errand to pick up some of her special shampoo (I guess she's going to need a couple days to rest up after all the activity during the last week), a lunch of flavored cheeses and Parmesan cracker bread and one and a half more Bette Davis movies.
Something I was cut off from mentioning earlier, an incident during our watching of Now, Voyager. If you've seen it, you know that, as in many movies of that era, cigarettes figure in the film. In this movie "Jerry", "Charlotte's" married lover, makes a habit of continually lighting two cigarettes at once, one for himself and one for Charlotte. I cringed the first time I saw this happen, thinking, Yeow! Although she's ignored all the rest of the smoking during the movie, this'll do the trick. Thus, I was startled when my mother reacted almost immediately, "Your father did that once. I cured him of it."
Don't ask me why I responded as follows, it could have been unwise, but it didn't seem to matter, "But, Mom," I said, "I thought that was supposed to be a romantic gesture."
She snorted. "How could something that looks so silly be romantic?!? Those cigarettes sticking out of his mouth like that, he looks like a, a,"
"Walrus?" I provided.
"I was thinking of something worse, but that's bad enough!"
At any rate, through all the Bette Davis movies we've watched, so far, yesterday and today, she hasn't "looked for something" the entire time. I'm relieved, although I imagine I'll continue, for awhile, to cringe and expect the inevitable, which may no longer be inevitable, every time someone lights up on the screen.
This morning, as I met my mother in the bathroom after I noticed she was up, she greeted me with, "Where is everybody?"
"You and I are here, the kitties are here, so everyone who belongs here is here," I said. "Who do you mean?"
"Well," she explained, "I'm not sure, but I expected to hear talking when I woke up this morning."
I chuckled. "If you'd let me know that last night, Mom, I could have produced a loud, animated conversation with myself."
She smiled, but only slightly. "Well, what about Dad?"
As I always do when she mentions "Dad", I asked, "Your Dad or my Dad?"
"My Dad, of course!"
Instead of bluntly reannouncing his death, this morning, for some reason I ignored it and said, "Ahh, he must have been visiting with you last night [meaning in her sleep, but, you know, I'm no longer sure of the parameters of her sleep, so I avoided this word, also]. Since you were expecting to hear conversation when you awoke this morning, you must have been hosting a reunion of all your loved ones last night!" I don't know why, but just saying this brought tears to my eyes; not sad tears, mind you...not even poignant, since the feeling that evoked the tears had no hints of bitterness; although it was unbearably sweet. "Oh, look," I said, a little embarrassed, "just the thought of that makes me cry."
As usual, my thoroughly unsentimental mother waved away my emotional leakage. "Well, I don't know why," she said, "You were here, too. And, where's MPS? She was here."
Ahh, I thought. So, this time, we were "here" and not "there". Insteresting change. "MPS has gone back to Chandler, Mom," I said. Fairly recently, in fact, a couple of months ago, after she and MPNC visited for a few days. I continued, "Now I know why I slept so restlessly, last night. I was actually partying with you and our family!"
Anyway, she's been in a very good mood, today, feeling a what she describes as "a little constipated", which surprises me, because she had an excellent bowel movement, yesterday. She's been gassy, though, I've noticed, probably from the apples in the pie last night and the Cobb salad we had the night before. She's been in such a good mood, in fact, that while we were bathing her and I mentioned I needed to go get some paper underwear for her, she burst into a chorus of, "I under wear my baby is tonight," to a tune I've never heard. She couldn't remember where she'd learned it, although she mentioned she's known it "forever". Probably from her college days.
She's back up from her nap, now, at 1930. She asked me where "Mother" keeps her Milk of Magnesia. Asking for something like this is unusual for her, so I gave it to her, knowing that she knows when she needs it, if she asks for it.
After I gave her a couple of Tablespoons of it, she asked, "Where's Mother?"
"Wasn't she at the get-together last night?" I asked.
"Well, yes, but they've all gone home."
"I guess she must have gone home, too, then."
"Yes," Mom said, "I guess you're right. We'll have to do that again, soon."
I'm sure we will.
We've got a date with yet another Bette Davis movie, Dark Victory. We decided to put off seeing the rest of The Letter, as neither of us was really getting into it.
Later.
