Driving

WARNING: Cheese alert. I’m sorry I must expose you to this, but I’m feeling rather cheesy and cliche today. My sister confirmed this when I had her read this prior to posting. I am trying to work on my writing (and believe me, it needs work) especially description. So this is my attempt at being creative today. Consider this enough cheese to fulfill your dairy requirement for the day.

It seems like whenever I’m on a long road trip, I start to think about how life is kind of like a highway.

Everyone can drive in the lane of their choice. Usually it’s the one you merge on to when you first enter the highway. You can stay in that first lane if you wish, but if you get stuck and start to feel like you’re not getting anywhere, just pass on the left.

There will always be those people who try to get in front of you or who just shouldn’t be there, but there is always a way to get around them. Even if it means you just stop the car until you make sure they are out of sight, and then take off.

Sometimes you find yourself driving along a deserted road and don’t see any cars around for miles. It can be so peaceful.  You can roll your window down and sing as loud as you want while feeling the warm wind blow into your ear, kiss your cheek and tousle your hair.  I feel sorry for those people that are scared to be alone. I think they miss out on having those moments.

Eventually, most of us start to get lonely and wish there was a least one other car there, driving along the road with us.

There are those times when you think you found the perfect partner. They have their cruise control set at exactly 71 mph and are the perfect length in front of you. Not too far, not too close. You’re both in the fast lane and no one is in front of you to slow you down. No one dares to pass. You drive along for 30 miles until for some reason you’ll never know, they decide to slow down and take an exit. And there you are, alone again, trying to find someone else to join you on the journey.

Sometimes when the lanes get so crowded, you just want to scream at everyone to get away from you. It’s frustrating and you wish for the days back when you had the road to yourself.  But, it’s times like these it’s most important you pay attention to your own driving. For you just may be the one who’s not doing it right.

We all make mistakes sometimes. I think I’ve been lucky to have had only a few collisions. Sometimes they were minor and just caused small dents or scratches. They eventually were fixed, or I just learned to not care about the small imperfections. I’ve had times when I’ve crashed and my car wasn’t hurt at all, but the other car was . I’ve never felt more guilty when I knew I was the one who caused someone else’s damage.

There was once a time though when I was totaled. I thought it was the worst day of my life and I didn’t want to drive again. But I made myself get back out there and I think I’m a better driver because of that.

If you get bored, you can always take an exit to try to lose the monotony. You may find nothing, but on occasion there are those moments you never forget. Kind of like finding the perfect gift for someone inside of an old truck stop in the corner near the restrooms under the tacky sign that says “souvenirs”. Those unusual surprises that if you didn’t take a chance, you may never have known what’s out there.

I’ve managed to take quite a few exits along the road. MANY of them caused me to lose precious time from my journey. But it seems like the exits I took when everyone thought I was craziest for turning off the highway turned out to be the ones that changed my drive into something more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

I pity those people who will never pass or take an exit because they are too afraid. They like to play it safe and only follow the map, thereby missing out on what it’s like to feel that rush of the unknown or that adventure that was back on the exit they just passed by.

Of course it is important to be careful when driving. But it’s more important to remember that between the “closed road” signs, endless construction, and potholes there is beauty.

There are fierce sunsets over wheat fields, blue skies with clouds hovering over a old farmhouse, funny billboards that make you burst out laughing, or maybe just a some pretty wild flowers in the middle of a dry patch of grass.

Be on the look out or you may miss them.

Product Review #1- SmartScoop® Self Scooping Litter Box

For a fresher litter box the only serious choice is the SmartScoop® self cleaning litter box. It’s the only litter box that gives you the SmartScoop® advantage!

The amazing SmartScoop® litter box is one of the most fascinating products I’ve ever owned. 15 minutes after your cat leaves the box, SmartScoop® begins a cleaning cycle. The amazing scooping metal fork moves across the litter effortlessly picking up the chunks of clumped litter along with the turds and tossing them into the “no touch” waste bin locking in odors.

Oh, but that’s not where the fun ends.  If you stick around to enjoy the show, it’s kind of like watching a tiny basketball game.  There can’t be perfection 100% of the time. Sometimes during the flipping process, it misses the”no mess” bin. A poor turd or clump will get flipped over the side to lay lonely on the basement floor until a tiny friend is flipped over to join it.

If you forget about your SmartScoop®, for a few days, you might go down to have a whole group of friends waiting on the sidelines for your attention.

Not only that, SmartScoop® allows you to save a ton of money on dog food by supplementing your dog’s diet. Let me explain how it works:

Feed your cat, the cat digests the food, goes into the SmartScoop® box to do his business. 15 minutes later, the motor can be heard, and like a dinner bell, the dogs come running for their afternoon snack. Watch your dog’s ears perk up when they hear it and like a game, your dog will run to the box to try to get to the turds before they are flung into the “no mess” bin, or if they are lucky, they will get one of the ones thrown to the side that they missed earlier.

As an added treat, it provides endless hours of entertainment for your cat. Watch him sit on the sidelines enjoying the show!

http://www.smartscoop.com/videos60.html

F*&ck Alzheimer’s Disease

I know. I promised myself that my next blog would be light hearted or at least an attempt at funny. But I guess I lied. The next one will be, I PROMISE. I have two ideas cooking.

We just left my Dad’s house after a pretty good weekend. I even got to have lunch completely alone with him yesterday for the first time since I was a little girl. Yup. You heard right. We have always had someone along with us. Never alone.

It felt awkward and  comfortable all at the same time if that’s even possible.

As we chatted over our burger and fries, I brought up some of the little funny things I remembered, like when we used to eat at Wendy’s. He would always point over my shoulder and say, “Look at that!” When I’d turn my head around, I’d see him steal my fries out of the corner of my eye.

He repeated himself so many times. Telling me over and over “You are so beautiful” and “You certainly couldn’t have gotten that from me!”  I’d just make a silly face and say, “Oh, of course I did”, making him laugh.

Humor has always acted as my shield from fear, anxiety, pain and sadness. The inappropriate giggles when you’re in the middle of a funeral. Trying to crack a joke in the middle of a job interview. Filling uncomfortable silence with a goofy comment. That kind of thing. Some people don’t understand this, but it is the glue that keeps me from falling apart. I think I get this from my dad.

This morning was a jolt into reality of this horrible disease. My father could not remember who I was at breakfast. I had to pull up photos of my wedding on my computer. I luckily had a few of him walking me down the aisle and dancing with me.

It stung to see the doubt still clouding over his eyes as I listened to him apologize because he could not remember and then the string of questions that followed.

“There are so many things about you that are familiar. I don’t know what is wrong with mind. I just can’t remember. I’m so sorry.”

“What was your mother’s name?”

“How is she doing?”

“Do you know my family?”

“Can I have your address so we can keep in touch with each other?”

I carefully answered each question over and over and over again as we finished our breakfast together.

I think he finally started to believe me by the time we left. Before we got into the car to make the long drive home, I had my husband snap a picture of the two of us. One second, one moment, one memory, imprinted on a piece of paper to go in a photo album somewhere or posted on Facebook to prove to everyone, yes, this is my dad.

Dad and my step-mom stood outside with their dog while we piled into the car. He leaned into the car on my side and said, “I remember you now. I’m glad we got to know each other this weekend. Don’t worry.”

He gave me a picture of him and his dog, Dolly  On the back, there was a note in his familiar hand writing.

“To Amy, We love you, Dad & Dolly”

I watched him walk into the house as we drove down the street, around the corner and out of view, only to be forgotten again.

But don’t anyone feel sorry for me. The person to feel sorry for is my step-mom What kind of existence has she been doomed to. They have been married since I was 10 years old. How is this fair to her? What would it be like to live everyday trying to convince the man you’ve loved for  more than 28 years that he’s not losing his mind, when he really is. It’s not fair.

Fading

I had a bad dream last night. I saw you walking down the street and yelled out to you. You didn’t hear me, so I thought. I continued to yell, even calling you Jack. You turned slightly, looked right into my eyes, and continued on until I couldn’t see you anymore. Then I woke up and wrote this.

One sister calls to tell me the doctor told you to your face that you are in the advanced staged of Alzheimer’s. How you sometimes forget who your wife of 28 years is.

Another sister calls and tells me that you took her into the hallway to question her about photographs that have been hanging on your walls for years and that you are upset that they keep telling you can’t drive anymore, even though you probably haven’t driven in a few years.

The last time I came to visit at Thanksgiving, the man who never had a hair out of place, had on a slightly wrinkled shirt and some hair sticking up in the back. You kept asking me the same questions over and over again.

I finally am starting to accept it. You are fading away.

My mind is racing with moments from my childhood with you.

I don’t remember much, since you moved out when I was 5, but the moments from our “every other weekend visits” are branded on to my memory and can never be removed.

Sleeping in your soft white undershirts because they always smelled like you.

Your hand pretending to be a tiny monster reaching around to the back seat as you drove trying to grab my feet and making me giggle so hard.

Letting me comb and style your thick grey hair when I was a little girl while you sat on the couch and watched t.v.

Dancing little jigs in the kitchen and saying silly things to make me laugh.

Seeing the looked of embarrassment on your face when I yelled out, “My dad is old! He’s 43!” at your apartment pool.

Hearing you laugh when you tell the story about how during a party you had in your “single” days, when I was SUPPOSED to be asleep up in the loft, I dropped a message down saying, “Help, I’m being held prisoner.”

Hating you when you refused to let me stay with you when Mom remarried and moved to South Carolina.

Feeling bad for hating you when I grew up and realized it was the best thing for me.

Hearing in your voice how proud you were when I told you I was going to be a pharmacist.

Seeing the look in your eyes when you saw L for the first time after we got home from China and visited.

Remembering when you almost died after surgery two years ago that I went to the waiting room to write you a letter explaining what you meant to me. Someone interrupted me to tell me you had woken up and I tore it up and threw it away.

I try to act like I don’t care about what’s happening, because I’ve always been hurt that you seemed closer to my sisters than me. I’m sure they sense it on the phone when they talk about you, and probably think I’m cruel.

But I cried last night, because I’m scared of losing you without you knowing how I feel.

I’m mostly scared that you may be scared.

I’m worried every time I call you that this will be the time you won’t remember who I am. I won’t hear the familiar “Amy Louise!” that makes my eyes roll and my heart smile.

But there are a few things I want you to know, before you fade away from me, Dad.

Some of my favorite things about myself came from you.

My daughter likes to sleep in my old soft t-shirts because she says they smell like me.

She giggles when I’m driving and reach my hand around like a tiny monster to grab her feet.

We like to sing silly made up songs together.

We dance little jigs together in the kitchen and crack each other up.

She may not be blood related to you, but I see your expressions and actions come through her.

I’ll be driving down with L to see you this weekend. You sound excited and that makes me happy. I plan to tell you a lot of things that I never have, I just hope you truly understand.

Don’t fade yet.

Happy New Year to Me!

So, the ruminating thoughts about having a baby started again the first of December.  I even told my mother-in-law.

(if you could now imagine the sound effect from the movie Psycho with the knife moving up and down in the shower it would be great.)

I want a baby. They are so cute. I want to see what someone with half my genes and half Tony’s looks like. I want to see what it’s like to breast feed. I want to wear cute maternity clothes and have a little belly people want to put their hands on because I’m so adorable.

Blah blah blah.

So, I got on line and googled ‘menstrual cycles’ to try to find out my most fertile days of the month. Okay, so between both of our jobs, a five year old, two dogs and a cat that crawl into our bed at all hours of the night, we managed to hit ONE of them.

Sigh.

I even made an appointment to see an OB-GYN and started taking an OTC prenatal vitamin.

It was toward the end of the month when I realized, what the hell am I doing?? I must have lost my mind. The ruminating thoughts started again.

I’m going to be a fatter pig than I am now. I don’t want a little tiny baby! My boobs are going to sag and my nipples will be ugly! I’m too tired for this! I can’t live without wine that long! My baby is going to have two heads. No. No. NO!!!

Somebody grab me a Haldol, please.

I took a pregnancy test on January 3rd. As I sat on the toilet wondering what the hell I had been thinking, I stared at the digital hourglass blinking (yes, I paid extra for the digital because I have spent many hours trying to decipher pink, from slight pink from white from blue in the past).

Not Pregnant.

I got a nice visitor the next day. Happy New Year!!!!

Bring on the booze.