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Archive for July, 2005

Overheard, II

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-29-2005

( Next evening…)

Dad : You could land in Hartford….

I am catching a distinct message here. I only wonder : why ?

Overheard

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-29-2005

Dad : And next year, you can land in Springfield….

Mummy Dearest: Springfield ! Springfield ! Why would we want to land in Springfield ? What is there to see in Springfield ?

Dad : Well, we could go over to Amherst …

Mummy Dearest : Amherst ? I want to go to Boston. I want to see Tut again. I don’t want it to be another thousand years before I see my brother again.

Dad : ( silence)

Mummy Dearest : And… and I didn’t even get to go to the Burlington Mall this time.

Dad : Ok, so I’ll meet you in Boston…

Mummy Dearest : You know, I heard that Jimmy’s is gone.

Dad : No it’s not. I was just there, oh, last year.

Mummy Dearest : Well, that’s what I heard. Some cheesecake place took it over.

Note

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-28-2005

I am once more going to ask Dad if I can have the lap top upstairs ( last time, he nixed it). I have very limited time on the computer and am unable to answer comments, but enjoy hearing from you very much.

The Atlantic

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-28-2005

As we sipped our nightcaps yesterday ( mine was a caffeine free diet Coke, enough said), I learned what had preceded my Father’s call- just days before we were to leave- in which he announced that the road trip was back on.

He had visited his Doctor, who told him that the leg was doing very poorly indeed. There was no way to save it. They scheduled the amputation. My Father then announced that he was going on this road trip come hell or high water.

His Doctor told him that a road trip would kill him. He would not survive it.

And then my Father picked up his phone and called me.

Imagine that.

Gloom And Doom

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-28-2005

Caught up in the drama of my immanent demise, of strangulation as I slip through a crack between the floor boards, I forgot- of course- the news of real import.

On Monday, Dad went to the very impressive UAB and the Dr’s said that he was doing more than fine, he is doing remarkably well. They removed and canceled all of the drips and picks and sent him off for his first appointment with the fake leg guy.

There, they swaddled his stump in tight, white elastic bandages, which will ease it into it’s final contures. And then, on to the 60,000.00 $ fake leg. The Boy calls it his terminator leg. But it has all left Dad in very high spirits indeed.

He has driven us to Walmart and the local Mall now three times, all together, today using his truck. I build upper body strength by lift- and- tossing his wheel chair into the back of the truck.

Trucks were designed for people at least 5 inches taller than I, but hey, I’ll have biceps like Popeye before the summer is over.

In the evenings, he plans our May trip to ( let me get this straight…) Naples, Sorrento, The Isle of Capri and Pompeii. And very late at night, he hopes that we can all still make a run down to Destin this summer.

Being the drag that I am, I say, we’ll see how it goes.

Curious Minds…

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-27-2005

Seem to want to know, and so I shall tell all : yes, I once more weigh the weight that I weighed and was happy with before I started birthing all of these babies. At 5’2, I felt good about myself at 115. Oh, I knew that I looked better at 105, but I was pleased with 115 as well.

A trail of gore in my wake, I find myself there once again and I shall tell you a big secret : there is a big difference between weighing 115 when you are in your 20′s and finding yourself at the very far side of your 40′s, three late kids under your belt. I would say I look like I did when I weighed about 130 in my 20′s.

And do I give a rat’s ass at this moment ?

No. This has been the most god awful manner in which to lose five pounds that I have ever gone through.

The next time I tie on my dancing slippers, slip a boater on my head at a jaunty angle and point out that the bright side of some dire moment might be that I’ll drop a few pounds, I should like it if some one near and dear took a wide leather strap and flicked each of my calves once. As I lean over, bemoaning my wee, dear calves, I would appreciate it if that kind soul would then bend over and whisper these words in to my ear :

Be careful what you wish for.

4 pills to go.

Bright Side

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-26-2005

I only have 8 more pills ( at 4 x per day). The antibiotics they have put me on are not compatible with my digestive system. Why, a veritable civil war is raging in the poor, wee Mummy Dearest.

Instead of spending time behind a computer, I spend time in the bathroom, gushing from any end available.

It is worse than it sounds, believe me.

But… only 8 more pills ! Hoorah!

Adieu !

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-23-2005

This morning we bade The Girl and The Father a fond farewell.

As The Father and I sat outside, smoking a last cigarette together, going over the bits and pieces that make up family life, he paused for a moment and looking quite sternly into my eyes, embedded within my swollen chipmunk cheeks, asked :

You are going to work- work, aren’t you ?

I gave him a death bed glance, Alvin all over.

Once you are feeling better, of course, he said.

Well, I said, I brought my work with me, but instead of buying me a little nifty laptop, I had my gums sliced and scraped for five hours . How, I asked, could I work- work ?

It seems that if I actually do work- work, I can buy a little laptop. I’m already browsing through Dell’s site.

All know what an airhead I am about hardware, and so I ask : I want something for around ( or under) a grand. Must have lots of memory ( I use a lot of very heavy graphics) and have either a CD or DVD writer ( so I can backup the camera as well as transfer data). Uh. I think.

Any recommendations ?

Answer

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-23-2005

I wanted this, am happy that I have had it done.

I sleep all day.

I might get back down to 115.

That is certainly a bright side, wouldn’t you agree .

A Long Day

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-22-2005

I sat down in the chair at 8.30 am. At about 1.30 pm, it was over. They flapped and scraped every root in my head. I have, oh, I guess, a stitch between each and every tooth . I wanted this and am glad that I did it. Grateful, even, to the doctors who squeezed me in. Without this treatment, I would lose my teeth, as surely as – once the ship hit- the Titanic would sink.

I lost a tooth, but gained an implant.

They played a radio station that I liked. The doctor has a pleasant singing voice and sang along. Often.

We actually chatted at times. Rather often, in fact. They asked me how to pronounce Van der Sloot, for the missing Halloway girl is from Alabama. I told them that my dutch accent was poor : I am usually mistaken for a german, flubbing her way through dutch. Schol gives me away, I suppose.

They mentioned some new terror in London : how are you, my London dears ?

For some reason- perhaps because of the rather courtly politeness which abounds, I actually speak more like I write here than anywhere else on earth.

I find that I like drugs. Although I did learn today that I am allergic to one ( wow ! let’s shake and shimmy and watch that blood pressure soar out into the ozone..)

And pity poor, wee step- mother, a former head operating nurse and trainer of sterilization techniques : between Dad, her Mother and I, she seems to be running her own private clinic.

I shall buy her chocolates.

She likes them fine.