I took my mother to the audiologist to have her new hearing aids regulated. She is generally pleased with the sounds that she can hear again, most importantly, the voices of her grandchildren. My son has a very low pitch and my daughter speaks clearly, but rapidly. Mom has struggled to keep up with these most important sounds in her world, and now, miraculously, she can hear most of what they are saying. Telephone conversations are still difficult and perhaps always will be. Turns out you can spend thousands on aids, but a hearing loss is just that - a LOSS.
We got take-out at Panera (YUM) and hurried home to indulge ourselves. We talked about a lot of things, mostly the younger days and impressions of my father. She seems to think, and I agree, that we need to go over this stuff until it is possible to let it go. I carry around a boat load of resentment and anger toward my father, and I know that I need to find a release for this negativity. I listened to my mother talk for a long time and when I left, I watched her walk from her mailbox up the steep gravel driveway to her garage door. She still holds herself upright and she walks without any aid. But there is a fragile set to her narrow shoulders that I hadn't seen before today. She's struggling to hold mind and body together and she does this, for the most part, all by herself. She is graceful and brave and loving and it breaks my heart that she is so alone.
Should I send this guy over to live with her? They could eat cheese and ice cream and take good long naps together. My wolfie dog - how I would miss him!!!! And, truth be told, she'd never welcome him in because he is a hair bag! Those canine tumble weeds that roll under the furniture and throughout the house would just do her in! (This is the woman who scrubs the bathroom tiles with a toothbrush!) You cannot be too house proud if you live with dogs. It's just the damn truth, no way around it.
There's been little fiber business going on. I've started a Bento Box Quilt for my father, and have had to put it on hold while the expert all-knowing Wanda gets some cutting dimensions to me. I like her latest Bento very much, but want to try the lazy girl version. . . less cutting and piecing. I have a good deal of flannel lounging around, waiting for its moment in the sun, and I think that a flannel quilt for the winter months would be a great way to utilize this mess collection -
Some of these flannels really take me back. I remember the year that my friend Susie Horton and I would hole up on Thursday nights in my original rathole sewing room and listen to Delila and make quilts. Good times. Miss them. Miss you, Susie, more than you can know. I hope you aren't mad at me for flipping ignoring Manny this morning in traffic! We were all caught up in one of those clusters and I was singing with the radio - for all I was worth - Nancy Griffith, I think, 'Blue Moon'. And Manny, you were making fun of this old girl! Embarrassing. I still have IT. Whatever the hell 'it' is. I do miss you guys.
The mail lady brought this. It's not my fault, I swear. I blame it on Anne Hanson - she is responsible on some level for my inability to look away. But I love her and truly, she is beyond reproach. I take it all back.