Tuesday, December 7, 2004
Sometime yesterday...
...a moon mood hit me and I'm continuing to labor under its influence. Perhaps its the brightening of the weather, maybe there's a temporary somatic cause, I don't know. I decided yesterday afternoon to make pot pies (small ones; "individual servings" if you will, even though Mom and I typically can't finish a whole individual pot pie). I assembled everything for the crusts. My mother excitedly positioned herself to my left at the dinette table so she could kibbitz while I cooked. She hates to cook but loves to attend to others' efforts. I measured the floor, dropped my hands, looked at my mother and said, "I don't know, Mom, today's not the day. I don't know." I dumped the flour back in the bag, put everything away, returned to the table and we played Sorry for awhile. Didn't help, didn't hurt.
Mom was lively yesterday, which helps me when moods descend. She napped briefly and claimed she hadn't slept, although I checked on her a couple of times. When I'm up and she's sleeping I check on her at least once every half hour, usually more during her naps. At one point she was snoring. I'm amused when she tells me she hasn't sleep but I know she has. This means to me that she was dreaming so vividly and appreciatively that she felt like she was awake and thinking or experiencing or both. She stayed up until a little past midnight. We talked, mostly, nothing earth shattering, she watched some Animal Planet while I computed...
...last night I noticed, when I went to Carl's Jr. to get Mom a burger and onion rings, I seem to be immune at the moment to holiday lights. Normally, even in the worst of moods, holiday lights have a salutary effect on me. I take it for granted. Didn't even think about it until I noticed, driving home, that instead of opening up and letting the maze of lights along the way glitter through my soul I critiqued the arrangements of color and sparkle. When I returned home I noticed through the back of the carport that our neighbors on the cliff above and behind us have added this year to their typical light glut and extended it to the fence that touches the northwestern edge of our property. Instead of internally reveling in their grandiosity I closed my eyes and turned away as though the soul of early Scrooge had found a friend in me.
I checked in on Mom at 1000 this morning. Her eyes were open and I started rising preparations. She shook her head and asked for "another hour or two." It was easy to give it to her. I figure I'll check with her at noon when she'll be working on her 12th hour. She should be ready to rise by then.
I'm hoping her "uppity" antics will pull me out of myself.
Later.
Mom was lively yesterday, which helps me when moods descend. She napped briefly and claimed she hadn't slept, although I checked on her a couple of times. When I'm up and she's sleeping I check on her at least once every half hour, usually more during her naps. At one point she was snoring. I'm amused when she tells me she hasn't sleep but I know she has. This means to me that she was dreaming so vividly and appreciatively that she felt like she was awake and thinking or experiencing or both. She stayed up until a little past midnight. We talked, mostly, nothing earth shattering, she watched some Animal Planet while I computed...
...last night I noticed, when I went to Carl's Jr. to get Mom a burger and onion rings, I seem to be immune at the moment to holiday lights. Normally, even in the worst of moods, holiday lights have a salutary effect on me. I take it for granted. Didn't even think about it until I noticed, driving home, that instead of opening up and letting the maze of lights along the way glitter through my soul I critiqued the arrangements of color and sparkle. When I returned home I noticed through the back of the carport that our neighbors on the cliff above and behind us have added this year to their typical light glut and extended it to the fence that touches the northwestern edge of our property. Instead of internally reveling in their grandiosity I closed my eyes and turned away as though the soul of early Scrooge had found a friend in me.
I checked in on Mom at 1000 this morning. Her eyes were open and I started rising preparations. She shook her head and asked for "another hour or two." It was easy to give it to her. I figure I'll check with her at noon when she'll be working on her 12th hour. She should be ready to rise by then.
I'm hoping her "uppity" antics will pull me out of myself.
Later.
