HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

First of all, let me wish every woman out there who has given birth to a child or raised a child or even mothered a dog, cat, horse or any other furry friend a VERY, VERY Happy Mother's Day! I realize this will be a belated wish but this post didn't come together until late this evening as I was reflecting on my Mother's Day weekend with a smile.

I am blessed with an amazing son who is not only a wonderful person but a fantastic father. While I feel completely loved & appreciated all year, Darrin has been doing special things to celebrate Mother's Day with me for as long as I can remember. I'm pretty sure the big events all started with a John Mellencamp concert at the Shoreline Amphitheater in 1997 that Darrin treated me to. Several other concerts over the years included Mark Lindsay (my teenage crush), Greg Kihn, Eric Burdon (of The Animals fame) & Lynyrd Skynyrd.

We have wine tasted a few times, hiked Mt. Diablo with incredible wildflowers, journeyed to the northern California coast several times & just enjoyed each other's company over the years. To any parent that is the best gift of all, your child's time. We have polished off several cases of wine over the years as we talked into the wee hours of the morning. Amazingly, we never seem to run out of things to talk about. And I'm totally convinced that we could solve every one of the worlds problems if people would just listen to us!

This Mother's Day was no different. We made plans earlier in the week for Darrin to come up Saturday & spend the night. I suggested we have lunch & hit a couple wineries then just enjoy the time together. So, we did just that. I'm sure that most mothers out there totally get it when I say I feel truly blessed to be Darrin's mom & Charley's Gaga.

He bought me lunch & a couple bottles of wine, but what totally turns on the waterworks are the heartfelt personal sentiments in his card, Charley's card & Lou's card. Those of you who know me understand that I am emotional. I cry at Ellen Degeneres giving money to deserving guests or any book or movie that is even remotely sentimental. Hell, I cry at commercials all the time. That one currently airing where the baby foal has gotten over the railing onto the roadway while the mother horse paces frantically on the other side as the man stops his truck & lifts the foal back over the fence gets me every time.

After another long chat session after breakfast, Darrin headed home early this afternoon. What was particularly moving to me was his Facebook post this evening along with this photo. He rarely posts anything on Facebook which made it even more special. Yep, I raised a real sweetheart!

Mother’s Day Weekend Checklist:
☑ Brunch
☑ Wine tasting
☑ Giants game on TV
☑ Sharks game on TV
☑ NASCAR race on TV
☑ Lots of basketball talk (only because there wasn’t a Warriors game on)
That’s my mom, and I love her!

And the icing on the Mother's Day cake was a 20 minute Facetime talk with my beautiful granddaughter, Charley. I definitely had to thank her for her personalized card. There just aren't enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe how wonderful I felt surrounded by the love of the people who I love the most!

Happy Mother's Day!

THE PETRIFIED CHEESE STICK

First of all, I don't mean "petrified" as in scared to death, but rather "petrified" as in turned to stone. This is an interesting story that our family has experienced & wondered about over the past nine or ten months. I'm sure you must be thinking I'm just a half bubble off of plumb, & that may be true, but let me back up a little & explain.

For as long as I can remember Charley has loved cheese sticks. You know, what I mean if you've been around kids, those round cylinders of mozzarella string cheese. They are about 4 to 5 inches long & 1/2 to 3/4 inch across. Back when she was two or three, I recall someone asking Charley what her favorite food was - she immediately & enthusiastically replied, "Cheese sticks!"

Last summer on one of Darrin & Charley's trips up here to visit us, Charley was hungry. Being the prepared dad, Darrin handed her a cheese stick. Soon after Charley was distracted with something either along the road or inside the car. After several minutes, she said, "Where is my cheese stick?" She looked all over for it with no luck. Not on the floor. Not on the seat. Not on her lap or with the ghouls she brought in the car.

Darrin asked if she had eaten it already. Charley insisted she hadn't eaten it but she did indeed have it at one point. Darrin agreed that he had given it to her. We know that Charley would not have forgotten that she ate it &, of course, she was still hungry. Darrin gave her another cheese stick which she did eat right away this time.

Upon their arrival in Sacramento, I was informed that there is a missing cheese stick that "just disappeared" in the car according to Charley as she raised her hands in the air for emphasis. Darrin looked everywhere in the car to no avail. He reached under the seats, felt in the crack between the seat & the back, even moved the car seat - but no cheese stick was discovered.

Since then the story of the missing cheese stick was related to other friends & family members. Several times in conversation over the past months the mystery of the disappearing cheese stick has been discussed. How it just vanished has continued to stump us.

Fast forward to this past Saturday. Darrin drove up to spend the weekend with us. While he was here, he decided to vacuum his car really well since our garage makes that task a little easier. He couldn't remember the last time he had worked on cleaning the inside of his car. I can totally relate to that, like mother, like son. I talked with him outside for awhile then went back in the house.

A few minutes later, Darrin comes in & rather excitedly says, "Guess what I found!?", holding up a yellowish colored stick. "Omigod!!! You found the cheese stick!", I exclaimed. Apparently, it had fallen under the front seat & rolled up against the frame work where he couldn't see it or feel it until the seat was moved all the way back. Yay!!! The mystery was solved!

But here is the really crazy & somewhat unnerving part. The cheese stick was literally hard as a rock! It definitely appeared to be petrified, honestly, like wood in the petrified forest. It wasn't slimy or moldy or gooey or anything weird. It looked almost like a dog bone. Both of us were a bit flabbergasted that the cheese stick had hardened into something that was not about to break but still retained the approximate shape & size of the original. Bizarre!

We Face Timed Charley saying we had something funny to tell her. Darrin said to her, "Do you remember last year what was lost in the car? Charley immediately shouted, "The cheese stick!" Darrin held it up & said, "I found it! It was under the front seat where I couldn't see it before." Then we banged it on the table to show her how hard it was. She was really surprised, too, & excited that the cheese stick was finally found even if it was now "petrified". Darrin saved it to show her when we see her later this month.

Last night I was relating the petrified cheese stick story to my sister. She, too, became slightly excited & said she remembered hearing about the cheese stick that just disappeared. I'm pretty sure our family just might be a little wacko but I love us all just the way we are! Not to mention that we are the proud owners of a fossilized cheese stick. How many people can say that?

ADULT ORPHANS

It has been six months since my father passed away. My mother died almost twenty-eight years ago. There is a strange phenomenon that comes about when your second parent is gone - you become an adult orphan.  In my case a 68 year old orphan.

It almost seems silly at first thought to call yourself an orphan when you are in your fifties or sixties or even seventies. When I first thought of this concept, I did an online search for "adult orphans". Low & behold, there is a ton of stuff written about experiencing life as an orphaned senior. I learned that I was far from alone in feeling like a grown up, or even elderly, orphan.

Like me, many people have had the responsibility of caring for our aging parent. I spent over thirteen years as a caregiver for my dad. I talked to him daily, drove him to medical appointments, ran his household, managed his finances, coordinated caregivers & spent countless hours doing numerous chores or making decisions for him. I learned far more about wound care, physical therapy & other necessary medical procedures than I ever dreamed possible.

Fortunately, at the end my father didn't suffer. We had visited him that morning & he was his normal self. That afternoon he apparently had a massive heart attack. Paramedics got his heart beating & inserted a breathing tube allowing us to make it to the hospital. Paperwork was in order & his wishes were honored. He never regained consciousness & when the breathing tube was removed, he passed quickly with me holding his hand in the ER just a couple months before his 90th birthday.

An article I discovered online summed up some of my feelings pretty well: "Some of us expect to feel relieved when we no longer have these responsibilities & are blindsided by the depth of the empty hole left by the passing of our final parent. For others, the shock comes from feeling like an orphan. Realizing that the last person who loved you from the day you were born is gone, & with it, the generational layer between you & your own death can be overwhelming." I won't say I was blindsided or overwhelmed but I definitely had similar thoughts.

Another website compared losing the role of caretaker to that of an empty nester when your children left home. Suddenly, you were no longer responsible & involved in the day-to-day lives of someone extremely close to you. It can be quite unnerving to realize that as an adult orphan not only have you lost your role as someone's child, but you are now next in line to leave this earth.

As life would have it, one of my best friends who is three years older than me, lost her mother at age 99 just a few months after I lost my dad. She is my friend of 45 plus years who moved to Australia over 20 years ago. We have spent many hours on the phone discussing this crazy concept of being 68 & 71 year old orphans. But both of us have felt disjointed many times since losing our second parent. At times we were caught by surprise by these feelings.

When I mentioned these thoughts to another friend (also in her early 70s) who lost her second parent many years ago, she commented that due to Alzheimer's, she had become an adult orphan long before her mother passed away. If any of you have similar adult orphan thoughts or feelings, I'd love to hear them.

I'm still kind of at loose ends & wondering what life after prolonged caregiving will be like. Of course, my son & granddaughter take center stage in my life but my major daily responsibility is gone. I don't take my cell phone upstairs every night anymore. I'm not awakened at 7 AM by a phone call from a caregiver. I can go on vacation without worrying about my father. An 800 number call doesn't scare me (it may have been Life Alert calling that my father fell, again).

For now I'm enjoying doing not much of anything. Watching "Ellen" or "Rachel Ray" is my guilty pleasure in the afternoon. Going to lunch with friends is just a fun afternoon rather than a respite from caregiving. Sure, I miss my dad. I still think, I have to tell Dad something I see or recall. I wish he was here to watch sports with like we always did. And, he was my best wine drinking companion a couple afternoons a week. I'll always miss that. Such is the life of an adult orphan.

MYSTERY DRUGS

A couple months ago I made a puzzling discovery in my medicine cabinet. Sitting on one of the shelves, kind of hidden by a few other things, was a huge bottle of bright orange ibuprofen tablets. I pulled it out & wondered how it got there. Upon further inspection it was Kirkland brand & there were 500 pills in it.

Those of you who shop at Costco probably recognize Kirkland as one of their store brands. I realize that isn't anything unusual except that I don't belong to Costco & don't shop at Costco, except on rare occasions with my sister who has a Costco card. I had no recollection of her giving me a giant bottle of ibuprofen but I was thinking that must have been the case since I don't know anyone else who shops at Costco. And certainly no one who would share that with me. The bottle had not been opened & had an expiration date just a few months away.

That reminds me, I want to share the results of a study regarding medication expiration dates that I ran across a few years ago. An independent company did testing on prescription & over-the-counter medications potency after their expiration dates. It found that virtually all medications were still effective two years beyond their expiration dates. And some were still effective up to 15 years after the expiration date! Even if you took a long expired medication it would not hurt you but simply wouldn't be as effective. I was amazed & figured I could safely use things up to two years past the printed dates.

But, I digress, back to my mystery bottle of medication. Since my hip surgery & my constant foot pain issues, I do use ibuprofen fairly regularly. Given the fact that my current bottle of 100 was good for at least another year & a half, I decided to open my newly found enormous container of 500 & use them first since their expiration date was April 2019.

A few days ago, I finally remembered to ask my sister if she gave them to me. Nope, she didn't give them to me. I described the Kirkland name & really big bottle of 500 orange pills but she said she hadn't bought those. However, she had seen them & knew what I was talking about. She added that they come in a sealed pack of TWO bottles. Of course, they do, it's Costco. Everyone needs 1000 ibuprofen tablets.

So, they didn't come from my sister. I decided to ask Lou next thinking maybe someone had given them to his father who can't take ibuprofen & he brought them home. I showed him the bottle saying I found it in the medicine cabinet. He shook his head & said, no, he hadn't seen them before. The mystery intensified. Where did they come from??? They didn't just materialize inside our cupboard, did they? I was at a loss to explain their appearance.

It was after my dad died that I found them & briefly wondered if I'd found them at his house when we cleaned it out. But he couldn't take ibuprofen due to using blood thinners & all of his caregivers knew that. No one would have brought them to him if they even shopped at Costco which I don't think they did. And I may be a little crazy once in awhile but I certainly did not bring home that huge bottle, put it in the medicine chest then wipe it from my memory with no recollection of doing it.

To this day I have no idea how we came to have a gigantic unopened bottle of Kirkland ibuprofen in our downstairs bathroom. If they were just conjured up by some unknown super natural phenomenon, I guess that's okay but why couldn't it have been something a little more valuable or exciting than pain relievers? How about a bag of gold coins? Or what about a box of diamonds? Hell, maybe even a couple of tickets to a ball game?

Since I have no clue where they came from or any more thoughts of who to ask, I am resigned to the fact that their presence may well remain a mystery. But, if by chance, any of you gifted me with all this ibuprofen, please let me know. That will solve the mystery of where the ibuprofen came from but will bring a new question - where has my brain gone?

AN EVENTFUL YEAR

As I sat down at my computer to share thoughts of 2018, I couldn't think of a simple adjective that would adequately describe this past year. To say this year was a roller coaster ride of really high "ups" & really low "downs" would be a total understatement. As I searched for a title adjective I considered "exceptional", "unforeseen", "extraordinary", "unpredictable" to name a few & finally settled on "eventful".

"Eventful" seemed to convey that some damn big things occurred both good & bad. One thing I know for sure is that I will remember this past year for everything that happened which affected & changed my life in so many ways. Here are the highlights (& lowlights) of my 2018 "ups" & "downs":

The 2018 roller coaster started up the first big hill with a huge trip that literally took us around the world. We learned of a 14 day cruise that sounded intriguing. Great deal after great deal fell into place & we had a 21 day trip booked to Singapore, Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, Oman & Dubai with an extension to Delhi, Agra & The Taj Mahal in April. A definite "up"!

My hip had been giving me grief since October 2017. I was diagnosed with bursitis & a hip flexor muscle strain before being sent to physical therapy & a specialist. Exactly two days after making final payment on our "trip of a lifetime", I was told I needed a total hip replacement! Shit! Lou agreed to push me around as many places as possible in his dad's small transport wheelchair which we took on our trip. I postponed the surgery knowing I wouldn't do any more damage. A discouraging "down"!

Three days into our trip on our Thailand excursion I was able to check my phone messages since both Lou & I had elderly fathers at home. Never in a million years did I expect to find out that my son was in surgery as I read the message. He had an accident while on vacation necessitating hip reduction surgery. That was one of the most helpless & traumatic events of my life knowing my son was in surgery half way around the world. His girlfriend & his dad were with him, thank God. And someone gave him their phone to call me from recovery which had me in tears on the tender but I was so thankful to hear his voice. A big "down" followed by a relieved "up"!

He was doing great & we detoured to see him on our way home from SFO. We did a 9 day trip to Texas in May that we had planned before the India one. I just limped around & did what I could do. We spent lots of fun pool time with Charley during the summer. I had scheduled my surgery for the week after Charley left. I wasn't missing any time with my granddaughter to recuperate. All "ups"!

On July 17, I had the first major surgery of my 68 year life. It all went well but I have since learned that it takes 4-6 months to heal physically & a full year to feel "normal" again. I'm getting there but it is difficult not to get impatient. Kind of a frightening "down" but ultimately an "up"!

The lowest point of my roller coaster year occurred 11 days after my surgery. My 89 year old father had a massive heart attack at home. The paramedics got his heart beating & put him on a ventilator to keep him alive until we got to the hospital. I was able to hold his hand & talk to him but with no response. After about 15 minutes we removed the breathing tube & 10 minutes later he passed. An unbelievable "down"!

Although my dad was "just an auto worker" his whole life, he managed to leave a substantial amount of money to my sister & me. She bought a pickup truck & I bought a 2018 red Honda Civic. We both paid cash for our cars (with plenty left over!) for the first time in our lives thanks to our dad. It was bittersweet not to be able to tell him & show him our new cars which he would have loved. Both "up" & "down"!

I used some of my inheritance to treat Darrin, Charley & Lou to a Disneyland trip over Thanksgiving vacation. That was a wonderful experience that I will cherish forever. Since Lou has treated me to travel for the last few years, I splurged on a fancy cruise to Cuba for him & me just a few weeks ago. Another wonderful "up"!

My son, my sister, my partner & my granddaughter have been my rocks through this crazy year. I have several friends who have been there for me for years & years & years. Their support & love were crucial to me. I couldn't have made it through without the countless, & I do mean countless, hours of phone conversations. Plus I reconnected with an "old friend" who I met as a teenager & she has become a great "new friend" in my life. All amazing "ups"!

This eventful year has involved some of our most amazing travel destinations, incredible time with my son & granddaughter, scary health issues for my son & me - & the death of my father who I had been caring for over the past 13 years. I'm really hoping that 2019 will be just a little less eventful - at least the "downs".

Have a safe & Happy New Year!

HAVANA, OOH GA-GA

Hopefully some of you are familiar with the pop song "Havana" by Camila Cabello. If not check it out on You Tube. It is one of the few catchy, fun, newer songs that you can actually sing along with. Darrin told me that when he told Charley I was in Havana, she knew the song & started singing it. BUT Charley & Darrin changed the lyrics.

From:  Havana, ooh na-na
Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh-na-na

To:  Havana, ooh ga-ga

Gaga is in Havana, ooh ga-ga

I love it!          

Some snippets & thoughts regarding Cuba:                                         

We had a wonderful lecturer on our ship. I don't think I have ever said "wonderful" & "lecturer" in the same sentence in my lifetime. Normally, the person who stands at the podium reciting tedious facts while clicking through slides bores me to tears or puts me to sleep in nothing flat.

But, Sandy Cares, had a wonderful delivery style. She paced the stage, using comedy, honesty & genuine excitement to tell us that in Cuba we need to take our own toilet paper & there are no toilet seats in the country. She was absolutely correct! Or she told us how cruisers always want to cut across rather than follow the right angle of the blue line in Cienfuegos to direct you to immigration. She reiterated, "Follow the blue line or they will round you up & we'll never hear from you again." People were immediately herded back to the blue line when they tried to cut the corner.

Her passion for & knowledge of this part of the world came through loud & clear. I actually retained some of what she shared remembering quite a few things. She used an inverted pyramid photo to explain how doctors, lawyers or teachers made about 30 CUCs (pronounced "kooks") per month. But tour guides could make that or more in one day in tips. The exchange rate is 1 USD=1 CUC but the Cubans add a 13% exchange fee. With the pyramid balancing on its point, it could topple at any moment. Who wants to be a doctor or lawyer at that salary when you can pick up a microphone, talk to tourists & make way more money?

The classic old cars that are an iconic symbol of Cuba were born out of necessity. I never realized that in 1959 when Fidel Castro over threw Fulgencio Batista as dictator, the United States stopped sending cars to Cuba. The embargo imposed by the U.S. stopped all exports of anything to Cuba. Since then they have made do with small Russian cars. The old cars seem beautifully restored but in reality they now have Russian engines in them & many are painted with house paint. They look great from a distance & earn a good living for those who use them to sell tours of the cities - far more than a doctor makes in a month.

I've never understood the draw of smoking a cigar that costs 10 to 20 dollars or CUCs but they are sold everywhere in Cuba. Most people were buying some of each at the obligatory cigar & rum stop on each tour. I bought Darrin a half liter of Havana Club rum, supposedly one of their best, for five U.S. dollars. Lou did the cigar buying for one of our friends. It is big business now that tourism is opening back up. The Cuban people want us there & want our tourist dollars.

U.S. citizens are only allowed to do "people to people" exchanges through an authorized tour company or cruise line excursions. President Obama relaxed the regulations on U.S. citizens traveling to Cuba allowing for easier access. But Trump is doing his best to put more restrictions on traveling within Cuba. We overheard a cruise line employee explaining to a cruiser, "It is the U.S. government who says you can't go out on your own in Havana. But the Cubans aren't going to stop you & we aren't going to stop you." That effectively told us to go for it & wander around to our hearts delight.

In all of our travels around the world, including third world countries, we have discovered that people are people. Everyone just wants to take care of their families & live their lives. Cubans were no different. They were friendly, helpful & much less pushy about selling their wares or offering their services than many countries.

NEVER AGAIN!

By most accounts I am considered a fairly adventurous person. I have jumped out of an airplane 18 times, hiked up a few mountains & enjoyed the great outdoors (as long as I can sleep inside at night). I have traveled the world visiting 50 states, 66 countries & 6 continents.  I love roller coasters & wild rides. Years ago, we rode the tallest roller coaster in the world at the time at Cedar Point amusement park in Ohio. Lou & I drove 130 MPH in his Mitsubishi Eclipse out on Highway 50 in Nevada..

Speed is a fun thing as long as I am strapped into something solid & secure. A metal car around me with air bags & a tight seat belt - crank it up! Or if I'm held firmly in place, I'm happy to go fast & inverted on a roller coaster. My chance of dying seems minimal to me in these situations.

Disclaimer: If you are easily offended by colorful language you may want to stop here. This is probably my most profanity-laced post so far.

I was reminded last Sunday of the time I was scared shitless way back in the past. I was in my early twenties & a friend at the drop zone had ridden his motorcycle out to skydive. Having never been on a motorcycle, I cautiously accepted his offer to take me to the airport (about 4 miles) on the back of his bike.

With a full helmet & coveralls protecting all my extremities, I hopped on the back & was never so fucking scared in my life! He was going about 60 MPH on the deserted two lane road. All I could see was me, rolling & skidding along the asphalt as it streaked by inches away. I was sure I would die if I fell off or at least be hurt really, really badly. Remember I was only maybe 21 or 22, young & stupid. But I was also smart enough to realize I did NOT want to end up dead or maimed. When I survived those five fucking minutes of sheer terror, I stepped off the motorcycle on shaky legs with a stressed mind, & have never been on one since - NEVER.

Now, fast forward about 46 or 47 years to Great Stirrup Cay in the Bahamas a few days ago. Lou had been on a jet ski once 27 years ago in Cancun. His recollection was that they gave you a briefing & sent you out in a fairly small roped off area. There was a Wave Runner excursion on this final day of our cruise. Lou signed up & I agreed to ride along with him. What the hell, I like a little speed. How bad can it be?

This tour had a several minute video of instruction that also described every way possible to kill yourself on these "personal watercraft" machines. Because Lou had done this before we were placed in the "fast group". One guide led us after explaining the hand signals & imploring us to stay 100 yards apart while another guide brought up the rear. I discovered the only thing I had to hold onto was Lou & all he had to hang onto were the handlebars. As the group increased speed, I thought, "What the fuck am I doing?"

At speeds of 50-60 MPH & doing "S" turns across the water, I was instantly back on that fucking motorcycle speeding along inches from the water. Maybe hitting water at 60 MPH isn't quite as bad as hitting asphalt BUT remember all I had on was a bathing suit & a life jacket - & I am now 68 years old. Not to mention that I was berating myself royally for doing this after hip replacement surgery five months prior. Honestly, I was afraid I'd have a fucking heart attack.

I have a 7 year old granddaughter with whom I want to spend a lot more time. If this damned thing crashes that probably ain't gonna happen.

It was terrifying bouncing along at those speeds, absolutely terrifying. I understand why kids cry when they are scared. Lou was doing a good job of driving the thing & I trust him to be careful BUT anything could happen completely out of his control. I tried shutting my eyes or watching ahead of me but all I could see was my broken, lifeless body in the Atlantic Ocean. The engine drowned out my screams of, "This is scaring the shit out of me!", "I can't do this anymore!" & "I have to go back!". When we finally stopped for a brief rest & I discovered there was still half of the 45 minutes remaining, I told the guide, "I'm done. Take me back."

One of the guides pulled along side & I transferred to his Wave Runner. He drove like a bat out of hell but it was in a straight line & I was back on the dock in about two minutes - shaking & stressed & swearing like a longshoreman. And the damn bar was closed - where is a beer or a pina colada when you need one?

Lou told me the other guide told him now that I was gone he could keep up. Normally, I would be pissed off at that comment, but I couldn't care less once I was back on land. You all go as fast as you fucking want to go. I have reached an age where I just don't need that shit anymore. And I am perfectly fine with that!

I was reminded of a friend who said that a "Bucket List" is things you want to do before you die & a "Fuck It List" is things you have no desire to do before you die. 

NEVER AGAIN!