Thursday, February 13, 2014

Big snowstorm today. Another 12+ inches on top of the other 12+ inches. Beautiful, exciting, confining. Made the soup, and it did the trick. Rob spent several hours outside with the snowblower. Thank goodness I purchased it when I did! 

I am still recuperating from bunion surgery. Been tough going in and out with the pups, who can’t seem to find the right spot on which to pee and poop. Been tough sliding down the stairs on my butt to take care of things down here. Been tough answering the calls from mom when I only wanted to stay in my office chair. But today was fun. 

We looked at photos on my laptop. She recognized some people, but not herself. And when she saw photos of her sister Rose, she said, Rose, that’s you. I disabused her of the notion as quickly and as nicely as I could. That is NOT me. No way, I don’t look anything like that. Besides, Aunt Rose is 92 years old! Some days are just more difficult than others. I recall telling the Avon lady over at the Leesport Market, when she asked me how old I was, that I was 92 years old. Earlier she had remarked that my complexion was beautiful. When I told her I was 92, she replied, Really! I almost died on the spot. Her partner hit her playfully on the arm and said, She’s only kidding. But it was too late. It was one of those days when you want to run home and put a paper bag over your head. 

Mom is watching Family Feud again. Did I tell you how much I hate to hear, “SURVEY SAID…” If I go to heaven and hear someone say, “SURVEY SAID,” I might well run the other way! 

Mom didn’t want soup tonight. So I asked her if she wanted hamburger. She agreed, and I broiled some pepper steaks from the German Butcher and served it with green beans. I then poured some of the pureed cauliflower/potato soup over it as a gravy. Yummy. She was delighted and said, You made this for me?

Of course I did, mom. You said you wanted it.
Oh I love you. Thank you, Sandy. 

I love when she calls me Sandy. It works. It’s my name. The one she gave me. But she no longer understands mother or motherhood, and I am not sure she understands daughter.