Foxy Mama's Blog

Stories, musings and ramblings from the front porch. Pull up a rocking chair and sit for a spell...


Thursday, March 24, 2005

Deja vu all over again...

New blog entry coming soon. Be ready. Sorry, know. For now I'll leave you with an irony. Older sonny has been released from the hospital. You might recall that on March 4th, the day he went in, we ran into Her Sweetness in the emergency room? Well guess what?! As he was walking out of the main entrance, who should he run into going into the hospital, but Her Sweetness herself. She had an appointment for a gastroscopy. How's that for an uncanny coincidence?

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Life is like that...

In another month I shall become the big 6-0. Holy mackerel, sixty years old! I can hardly believe that. Truthfully, I had never expected to live this long. Those years went by awfully fast! They rushed by like an out of control freight train on a steep downhill rail. Where did they go, I wonder? I wish I’d been a little more judicious with their expenditure.

That makes me think of what Burgess Meredith said in the movie, Grumpy Old Men. He played Jack Lemmon’s curmudgeonly but over-sexed father. He said “all you have in life are the experiences, son, just the experiences. One day you wake up and you realize that you aren’t 86 anymore.” He said some other stuff too but never mind that now…

Another one of my favorite scenes from that movie is when an aged Walter Matthau is trying to stab Jack Lemmon with a frozen fish while they’re tussling around on the frozen lake, fighting over, what else (!), a woman, and Meredith, as the 92 year old father of Lemmon’s 60-some character, says “don’t make me have to separate you two kids now.” Then, as he walks away he says to someone in the crowd, “Kids! You can’t live with ‘em and you can’t shoot ‘em.”

Old age is a funny thing… When you’re younger, say 20 or 30, 60 seems so very old. But when you’re 40 and then finally, 50, 60 begins looking pretty young. The thought of actually attaining 92 seems absolutely impossible right now but then the thought that I was actually 20 and younger once seems like a distant dream. I hate to bring up that old argument about relevance but by golly, it’s true. It’s really true.

As we trudged stiffly through the hospital corridor tonight a young, energetic woman passed us, walking briskly and soon leaving us behind in the proverbial dust. Gosh, I used to walk like that. When I remarked upon it, Dear Husband, gem that he is, replied that yes, I did. We both did. It was once hard to keep up with me. Without me to hold him back he still makes pretty good time when he walks but it was nice of him to commiserate with me. That’s what I like about him. He’s a gentlemen to the end. The trouble is, I miss being able to walk fast like that but these days when I try to get up a head of steam, I get all tangled up in my cane. Humbug.

I’ve resisted my hairdresser’s attempts over the years to dye my hair. She finally gave up on me. She claimed she just wanted to cover the gray hairs.

“You mean you want to dye my hair,” I said.

“Yes, but just the gray hairs” she said.

“Right, you want to dye my hair.”

“Only the gray hair” she reiterated.

“Okay, let’s say I let you dye my hair,” I said, leading her on, “what color will you make it? Blond?

“Oh no, I’ll only cover the gray so it will be one color.”

“Brown?!” I was incredulous. “You mean you want to dye my hair and make it brown?!

“Yes, that’s right. We’ll just cover the gray.”

“Forget it!! I’m not going to let you dye my hair and just make it brown!”

“But you have brown hair,” she said.

“Right now I’m closer to blond than I am to brown. Platinum even! Marilyn Monroe had platinum hair and everyone loved it. I’m sticking with this… I worked hard for this blond (gray) hair and I’m going to keep it just the way it is. At the rate it’s going, it shouldn’t be so long before I’m like Marilyn. I’ll take my chances with it.”


And she hasn’t bothered me since about it. I had a haircut this week and the floor was littered with my ‘blond in progress’ hair and I remarked to her about how well the project was coming. She grumbled under her breath but it did no good. She just doesn’t like admitting that I’m winning.

Maybe in a few weeks instead of a cake and stuff like that I’ll buy myself a feather boa, some RED lipstick and a fancy garter to wear with my orthopedic shoes. There’s nothing like positive thinking…


Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Family reunions and other emergencies...

We’ve been through a couple of rough weeks lately, culminating in a trip to the emergency room of the hospital this past Friday. When we found a parking space I espied a car a couple of places over which looked a lot like my dad’s car. I almost said “hey, there’s Dad’s car, I wonder what he’s doing here…” But I didn’t. I was stressed and the thought passed. We went in and were wondering what we should be doing and where we supposed to go and just generally being stressed. Someone beckoned us over to a computer and I walked right by a white haired man without paying any attention to him. Dear Husband was the one who said “hey, isn’t that your dad?” Huh? Where? My dad? What would he be doing here? And then Dear Husband said “yes, it is your dad. Hi Dad!”

Well, he was right. It was my dad and I was standing right there near him, after having noticed his car in the parking lot and then dismissing it. But, as I said, we were stressed and people aren’t always thinking their best at such times. But for heaven’s sake, you’d think I’d recognize my own dad! This is the second time in about 6 months that I was a few feet away from a relative and didn’t recognize him. The other incidence was when the sonnies and I were at brunch back in August and we were seated at the next table from my brother and couldn’t decide if it was him or not.

I blogged about it. My brother so much resembles his two best friends (who, incidentally, are cousins of each other) that they look like triplets when seen together. I’m always mistaking them for my brother when I see them from a distance and vice versa. They all tend to have the same body language as well, which isn’t all that unusual when you consider that the 3 of them are contra dancers and Morris dancers… But now here I was not recognizing my dad. It’s weird how the males of my family don’t look like themselves at certain times, isn’t it? Well, as I said, I was stressed.

It turns out that Her Sweetness had chest pains which fit the profile for a heart attack, so they hightailed it down to the emergency room to be checked over and Dad was in the reception area tending to the myriad questions and details that they always want to know while Her Sweetness was ensconced within with a doctor and a bunch of machines. We passed right by her when we were on our way to another cubicle further on and waved feebly as we went by. Her eyes got got big when she recognized us and I hoped we didn’t add any ‘peaks’ to her EKG.

We whiled away several worrisome hours and I’ve decided that emergency rooms are where you go to sit on hard little stools only one third the size of your spreading buttocks and incur bad back pain and gain additional gray hair while your blood clots from hours of inactivity and you get a headache from worry and being ignored…

I’m happy to report that later we found out that Her Sweetness was checked out thoroughly and released with instructions and anti-inflammatories and got a diagnosis of ‘costochondritis,’ which is an inflammation between the ribs where they are attached to the sternum, and while painful, is not life threatening nor critical. I must remember to call her tomorrow. Our lives are now even busier and more stressful as we’ve added another daily trip back and forth to the hospital for awhile.

I’m thinking of adding my dad’s and my brother’s pictures to my wallet too. You know, just in case…

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