A Smile for Noelle

"I want to watch Anastasia, Mimi! Please!"

"Just a moment, Hannah, let me finish feeding Gaga." Noelle sighed. There was never a moment of peace. Not even on her birthday.

She ignored the hurt. No one remembered it was her birthday. Not even Mom.

"But I want to watch it now." whined the four-year-old.

Her only grandchild was not known for patience. With a frustrated groan, Noelle gave into the demand and tossed the spoon back into the cooling mashed potatoes. Mom would have to wait for her next bite, not that she would notice.

Noelle quickly put in the requested video, wondering how many times one child could watch a single movie. Apparently one more time. If watching an animated movie on repeat kept the girl entertained, then maybe Noelle could get Mom settled and finish wrapping the Christmas gifts.

Mission accomplished, Noelle turned to see her mother sitting unmoved in her seat. A vacant stare settled into the familiar hazel eyes. The vibrant, intelligent and fiercely independent woman who had raised Noelle alone was gone. Alzheimer's had stolen the woman she knew and loved and missed terribly, leaving a shell which required constant care.

She could rely on no one else to provide that care. There was no other family and the thought of a nursing home made her shudder. Mom's body was as frail as her mind. In addition to the vacant eyes and lack of mobility, Mom's thin arms were tightly locked into her chest. Any attempts to move or position the arms were met with angry, non-verbal cries of pain and resistance. One occupational therapist had suggested giving Mom a soft baby doll to hold. The suggestion was worth trying, after all Mom had worked in the church nursery for over fifty years.

Now was as good a time as any. Noelle looked past Hannah to a pile of toys. No baby dolls there. Then she remembered; Santa was bringing Hannah a special doll and it sat at the top of the closet. With the child engrossed in the movie, she would never know one of her presents was being used in an experiment.

"Here you go, Mom. Here's your baby."

She looked toward the voice, but the face of a kind woman was blurred. She must be the nurse.

A baby? Yes. After all of the waiting, she had a child to hold. It seemed like yesterday that she and Jethro said their vows, followed by goodbye a few days later. A uniformed man returned a few months ago to report Jethro's death on a French battlefield. His baby would make up for his loss. Now she finally held that baby in her arms.

A baby birl. She felt her angel Jethro stand over her shoulder, viewing her Christmas present from him. She was so blessed.

"Noelle."

Noelle turned at the unexpected sound of her name. The readiness which Mom had accepted the doll surprised her. The withered arms had taken the toy without resistance. She had  watched her mother relax and begin to rock in her seat, cradling the doll to her like a real infant.

Now, she witnessed a look of pure joy transform the normally blank face. What could possibly be going through that lost mind? "Mom?"

Teary eyes turned toward her. "Baby."

"Yes, Mom, that's your baby." The experiment seemed to be successful. Now Noelle needed to find the money to replace the Hannah's Santa gift. With three days left to Christmas, that would be no easy task. Finances were tight and shopping while caring for a young child and an elderly parent was next to impossible. Yet there was no way she was going to take the doll from her mother.

"Baby Noelle."

A bright smile, accompanied by a tear, lit her mother's wrinkled face as she continued to rock her doll.

Noelle stood with tears coursing down her face as she realized that maybe Mom remembered her birthday after all.

Grave Digger

Yesterday promised to be a great day, but deserves a do-over from the get-go.

Yesterday the rabbit died.

No, not that rabbit. Our last remaining pet rabbit, Lil Joe. He was an adorably soft mini rex who lived to the ripe old age of 5. That's good for a small, long-eared rodent. He was Myrtle the Younger's baby. With that said, I can honestly say I am thrilled to be out of the bunny care business. Give me a dog any day (just not one that yaps incessantly).

My day started in its usual manner (moaning, groaning, ignoring the alarm, etc) and I dragged my lazy carcass out of bed to find Lil Joe in early stages of rigor mortis. Yippee. Fortunately it was a Saturday. Unfortunately it was a busy Saturday during the Christmas season. I sent a quick text to a friend I was supposed to meet for breakfast and set about informing Myrtle the Younger of the family tragedy and finding a coffin for said bunny (a toner box worked really well). In the meantime MTY decides that her pet needs to be buried with his sister, Livvy, and his older Californian brother, Macamacadon (I didn't name these rabbits) on Mimi's property. Okay, I didn't plan a 3 hour road trip today, but no biggie.

So, I continue with the established plan of the day which included a Christmas tea at our church with Mimi, following which Myrtle and I picked up the coffin and drove down to Mimi's to conduct an appropriate burial. We stopped for dinner, where I got out of my car and promptly rammed my shin into the trailer hitch extending about 18 inches from the back a big ass truck. Only a few curse words were delicately thrown into the universe.

We eventually proceeded to the farm. By then it was dark, so we chose a burial site close to where the house lights could help us out. Now we are talking about a Texas evening in early December here: dark, chilly, windy, digging in thick Texas black clay soil. After chiseling for a moment, we hit what I think is a bed liner that my mother or grandmother had used in the old flower bed. I was incorrect.

Out of 50 acres, we had to dig in the spot that Miss Hissy was  buried. Yea! I can hear that damn cat hissing at me from beyond the grave.

So, we cover up the cat, move a few feet over and proceed to chisel and scrape our way to a barely deep enough grave to cover one toner box stuffed with bunny. Task complete. I hurt but nothing that a bucket of pain meds can't help.

On a good note, on the drive home, Myrtle got to experience a Christmas classic, Santa Claus and His Old Lady by Cheech and Chong.

Let the holidays commence!

T

Lottery?

I need to buy a lottery ticket. Today.

Why? Because about 2 months ago, my poor little Subaru was hit by a motorcycle (no injuries except to my Subie and the bike) and after some serious waiting, I finally got my Subie into the collision shop for repairs and I get a new set of wheels to knock around for a few weeks.

Before we continue, let me just say I love my Subies. This is my 3rd and I tend to drive their little wheels off. I got my first one because of the safety and reliability ratings; the next 2 were bought because it's a damn fun car to drive. (Dear Subaru, I anxiously await my referral check.)

That said, I was resigned to accept whatever mid-sized vehicle the rental company allowed me to have. So there I stand at 7:45 am, with an uncaffienated brain, waiting for my rental, only to learn...they are fresh out of mid-sized vehicles. Not only that, they are out of vehicles. Period.

Mind you, this appointment has been 2 months in the making. Mi espouso contacted the shop yesterday and was assured that all was ready for me to waltz in with my poor little Subie and drive away with...something else.

Did I mention I was uncaffienated? For some, this might mean a full-on melt down, but I stand there going "what?". Before the news fully runs the circuit of my disconnected brain cells, the poor child and her manager are hunting me up one mid-sized vehicle.

They must have had a run on mid-sized vehicles, because there be none to be had.

Seriously? But wait! "I'm sorry,  ma'am, we can't get you a mid-sized car, but we can get you a Camaro. Will that be okay?"

Uhm...let me think...Hell yes! Oh, wait. Is it red? Never mind. I'll take it.

So Mr. Manager toodles off to pick up MY Camaro while I sit and wait in the rental office. About 2 seconds before MY Camato arrives, some idiot returns a mid-sized car. "Ma'am, I can let you have this Altima if you prefer."

Are you kidding me?!!? Oh. Hell. No. (I politely declined.)

Subie? What Subie? I am cool. Now all I need is a winning lotto ticket to stay that way.

T

Busted in NYC (or Why T Doesn't Travel)

You know when I said New York or Bust, I didn't mean literally.

We arrived yesterday (as previously reported) with every intention of enjoying a few sights in addition to the All-American High School Film Festival (haven't had a chance to tell y'all about that-very exciting).

First on our agenda was to visit a cemetery (we hunt dead people for kicks) where my great-grandfather's 1st wife is buried. So we figure out the subway and with only minor hiccups, we arrive at said cemetery where Myrtle Mimi displays her vast talent and grace. Short story: the sidewalk won.

Good news-the stories you hear of New Yorkers stepping over your inert body are complete falsehoods. In a matter of seconds, we had cars and pedestrians offering an assortment of assistance. God bless them all. We managed to get Mimi moving again, albeit using me and Myrtle Sue like a walker, and continued the remaining 50 yards into the cemetery. We genealogists have our priorities. (Yes, we found the grave. It and the cemetery are gorgeous.)

At that point, Mimi decided a visit for an x-ray might be in order, so we called for a cab. In the Bronx, taxis aren't on every corner. After calling, waiting, and calling again, the cab option was given up on and we called for some of New York's finest to escort our carcasses to a hospital. They even went above and beyond by choosing a hospital with reasonable bus/subway access for us.

So not only did we add an ambulance ride and an ER visit to our agenda, Mimi has a fractured pelvis for a souvenir and I get to spend the night in a chair. (When I wrote the hospital scenes in If You Touch My Mind, I didn't know I was predicting my future!).

Now to figure out what's in store for us next. Stay tuned!

T

New York or Bust

As noted in previous posts, this Texas girl is NOT a traveler. This Texas girl gets weirded out whenever she crosses the state line (don't you need a passport to go to Oklahoma?).

Seriously, I might drive 80 or 90 mph while in native territory, but cross that line and I drive like my great-grandmother. I'm certain there a all sorts of rules that will get me thrown into some foreign hoosegow.

Take the fine example of NYC (my 1st trip here). I don't think I would last more than a few minutes (and that's being generous). While in the shuttle bus for 48 minutes to go about 5 miles, I learned about honking. It's a code. Maybe Morse, not positive about that, but maybe. Anyway, pick a language, any language, and tap it out in Morse code on your car horn. The long sustained blast is a period. Several sustained blasts is a question mark (let's not get into the exclamation point). Our shuttle driver spoke English but my Morse is pretty limited, but I'm almost positive our bus cursed at several cars along the way (politely, of course).

Then there was the subway. I'll get into that after the Valium wears off.

T

Confession part 2

This is only my second vacation of any length in the past twenty odd years. Probably the only vacation with a majority of my family in forever. I know, I know...it's about damn time. Heaven knows when I'll remember to take another vacation.

So in order to make up for all the missed family vacations, we packed as much as we could into this one. Today's adventures included a boat ride watching dolphins surf in front of a big boat, a tour of most of the U.S.S. Lexington and a dip into the Gulf. The last excursion included an illegally caught fish via Myrtle the Younger's swimsuit (no fishing license and the poor kamakazi fish was way too small-shh, don't tell anyone).

Fun was had by all. There are a few sporting sunburns and generally all of us are making old people noises (we are sucking down Advil like it's going off the market). Getting out of any chair requires an act of Congress and all hands on deck.

Tomorrow we get the privilege of leaving this paradise behind and making the 6-7 hour (or more) trek to reality.

I don't wanna go!!! Wah!!!

T

Confession

Yes, I must confess...I have spent very little of my life at the beach. Now, in my 40+ years on this earth, I have come to realize I might be missing something.

Now to be fair, I live in Texas. We have Galveston and Padre Island. And we have heat. I mean HOT heat. You would think this Texas girl would high tail her hind quarter to one of the above locales at least once a year or so. Not so.  For one, it's about 4-5 hours to Galveston and 6-7 hours to Padre. Long car ride aside, I can count on one foot how many times I have actually been to a beach, most of which were in high school (ugh).

My first excuse lies with the story of my mother and her worst sunburn ever (blisters et al) from sitting on a tailgate while at Padre Island. I don't know about you, but I have spent my life trying to avoid sunburns. Plus, I married a redhead and birthed another.  'Nuf said.

Secondly, did I mention that it's hot in Texas? The thought of playing around in water (relective sunburns are nasty) in the heat of the day in order to "cool off" doesn't make sense to me. That's what air conditioning is for. Or a shade tree with a lovely breeze.  There are no shade trees at the beach. The idea of sitting, standing, walking on a beach all day fills me with the heebie-geebies.

Then there's the whole sand between your toes bit. Yeah...why should I cut my feet to bits with tiny glass shards? Or stub my toe on a jellyfish?

So anyway, Mimi got the bright idea to go dolphin watching. I am on board with watching dolphins. A bonus is seeing a shipwreck. Cool! So Mimi makes arrangements for said boat tour.  Then my baby brudder makes arrangements for a condo near the beach. Still good.

So here we be, on Padre Island for Labor Day weekend to watch dolphins while staying in a condo near the beach. It is only when we gorge ourselves on a Japanese Hibachi dinner that I truly realize the value of beach time. Mi espouso, Myrtle the Younger and I take a quick stroll down to the beach to say we have done so. It was already evening, most of the daytime beach goers were leaving or gone and those left showed me the possibilities I have been missing: evening breeze, warm water, cool sand, beachfront campfires. I'm telling you, this is what noone talks about. I am sold.

The dolphin tour is tomorrow. I'll probably have more to say about that. Maybe I'll have some pictures to post.

T