Monday, December 6, 2004
I'm guessing ahead of time...
...that this will be a relatively (to my natural loquaciousness) short post. Good time to find out if I'm right.
Yesterday was a surprising day. My mother remained up from the time she awoke until after midnight. She had a plan, hatched the evening before when she noticed that the Discovery Channel would be airing a program on Rameses at 2200. She's a sucker for everything Egyptian and anticipated the program all day. I asked her a couple of times if she wanted to take a nap and she gave me that "I know you're related to me but you didn't get your insanity from me" look.
This development was especially surprising because I was equally caught up in a marathon sprint (I know that's an oxymoron, but it's a perfect description of what I did, yesterday) through a particular section of my project. Yes, I am thrilled to report that I am continuing with my project with proper due-to-my-mother diligence. It helps, of course, that she is pleased to see me obsessed with a personal project. This is the way I've lived my life since I was very young and I think she feels more comfortable around me when I'm thus involved.
As we (I put aside my project to enjoy her reaction) watched the program last night, which was overly dramatic but still informative, depending on how much one already knows about Egyptology, I internally recalled her love affair with Egypt. I remember, after a summer's visit to an Egyptology museum in California (I think it was 1963) when we were on vacation in the states, she spent the balance of the afternoon musing about her interest in Ancient Egypt. "I just can't explain it," she repeated while trying to explain it. I remember thinking as she talked that it sounded like she was just this side of copping to the idea that she thought she was a reincarnated ancient Egyptian. Scarabs transfix her, although she's never been known as a beetle buff. She is also a dedicated sunshine person (although not a dedicated tanner) and desert/plane person. Visible horizons, sparse, prickly flora and reptilian fauna hold much more of a fascination for her than rolling wooded areas.
You may be wondering why, then, we're in Prescott. Aside from the fact that we needed to get rid of one of our "properties" (in quotes because a mobile home is a vehicle, not a piece of real estate and we didn't own the land on which it sat) and it made no financial sense to keep a constantly depreciating vehicle on a constantly appreciating piece of rental property over a piece of real estate, I don't know why she bought a summer home in the Prescott National Forest. I even tried to talk her out of the area, knowing that she has an emotional block toward it which goes back to her parents having lived here. Her decision, though, was implacable and had something to do with this house and its positioning relative to the sun. When she entered it the first time she recognized it as hers. Her decision, though, has nothing to do with the house being in the town of Prescott. It helps her, I think, that I have come to love the area, at least the fact that it isn't the desert, since it appears that we are bound to be here in Arizona until her death. The seasons here, too, are mild, but recognizable as seasons. Mom does prefer a hint of season to the unseasonal sameness of lower latitudes and elevations. The hyperkinetic ambiance of the area in which we lived in the Phoenix metroplex was also beginning to scare her. She no longer enjoyed riding in the car with me even short distances, as she was convinced that we'd never return home. Traffic all over the Valley is fast and impolite. The air there was keeping her in a constant state of allergic reaction, as well. She has two short, seasonal environmental allergy periods, here, and that's it.
Since I'm recovering from yesterday's marathon project sprint it's a laid back day, the last of this period's snow days: Alternately sunny and snowy as the blanket recedes and the dead weed stalks spring back. When Mom arises from her nap we'll probably polish off the second season of Northern Exposure and I'll definitely make beef pot pies. We were going to have them yesterday but she couldn't release the delectability of the bean soup I made on Saturday and insisted we have it again last night.
Later.
Yesterday was a surprising day. My mother remained up from the time she awoke until after midnight. She had a plan, hatched the evening before when she noticed that the Discovery Channel would be airing a program on Rameses at 2200. She's a sucker for everything Egyptian and anticipated the program all day. I asked her a couple of times if she wanted to take a nap and she gave me that "I know you're related to me but you didn't get your insanity from me" look.
This development was especially surprising because I was equally caught up in a marathon sprint (I know that's an oxymoron, but it's a perfect description of what I did, yesterday) through a particular section of my project. Yes, I am thrilled to report that I am continuing with my project with proper due-to-my-mother diligence. It helps, of course, that she is pleased to see me obsessed with a personal project. This is the way I've lived my life since I was very young and I think she feels more comfortable around me when I'm thus involved.
As we (I put aside my project to enjoy her reaction) watched the program last night, which was overly dramatic but still informative, depending on how much one already knows about Egyptology, I internally recalled her love affair with Egypt. I remember, after a summer's visit to an Egyptology museum in California (I think it was 1963) when we were on vacation in the states, she spent the balance of the afternoon musing about her interest in Ancient Egypt. "I just can't explain it," she repeated while trying to explain it. I remember thinking as she talked that it sounded like she was just this side of copping to the idea that she thought she was a reincarnated ancient Egyptian. Scarabs transfix her, although she's never been known as a beetle buff. She is also a dedicated sunshine person (although not a dedicated tanner) and desert/plane person. Visible horizons, sparse, prickly flora and reptilian fauna hold much more of a fascination for her than rolling wooded areas.
You may be wondering why, then, we're in Prescott. Aside from the fact that we needed to get rid of one of our "properties" (in quotes because a mobile home is a vehicle, not a piece of real estate and we didn't own the land on which it sat) and it made no financial sense to keep a constantly depreciating vehicle on a constantly appreciating piece of rental property over a piece of real estate, I don't know why she bought a summer home in the Prescott National Forest. I even tried to talk her out of the area, knowing that she has an emotional block toward it which goes back to her parents having lived here. Her decision, though, was implacable and had something to do with this house and its positioning relative to the sun. When she entered it the first time she recognized it as hers. Her decision, though, has nothing to do with the house being in the town of Prescott. It helps her, I think, that I have come to love the area, at least the fact that it isn't the desert, since it appears that we are bound to be here in Arizona until her death. The seasons here, too, are mild, but recognizable as seasons. Mom does prefer a hint of season to the unseasonal sameness of lower latitudes and elevations. The hyperkinetic ambiance of the area in which we lived in the Phoenix metroplex was also beginning to scare her. She no longer enjoyed riding in the car with me even short distances, as she was convinced that we'd never return home. Traffic all over the Valley is fast and impolite. The air there was keeping her in a constant state of allergic reaction, as well. She has two short, seasonal environmental allergy periods, here, and that's it.
Since I'm recovering from yesterday's marathon project sprint it's a laid back day, the last of this period's snow days: Alternately sunny and snowy as the blanket recedes and the dead weed stalks spring back. When Mom arises from her nap we'll probably polish off the second season of Northern Exposure and I'll definitely make beef pot pies. We were going to have them yesterday but she couldn't release the delectability of the bean soup I made on Saturday and insisted we have it again last night.
Later.
