A Gold Star

So far today I've gone to church, baked Dad a pie, and mowed the grass.  "Where should we post your star?" Dad asked when I listed my accomplishments.  "I don't know, but I've definitely earned one," I replied.  "More like two or three," he agreed.  He does say the right thing sometimes.

Squash

Two weeks ago, a neighbor who gardens gifted me with a grocery bag full of yellow squash and zucchini.  The vegetable bin in my refrigerator was already full of produce, so I had to put it on a shelf.  I've been shifting that bag from one place to another in the refrigerator ever since because I keep running out of room. 

Squash are not Dad's favorite vegetable.  I've made squash casserole and squash pie, but still have squash left.  I'm tired of moving those stupid squash around.   Yesterday I cut up the remaining yellow squash and boiled them along with some onion in chicken broth.  When I put the pot on the table, I told Dad I was trying to get rid of them so I'd have some room in the refrigerator.

"I've noticed there's plenty of room in the trashcan," he said helpfully.  "Don't you think that would be wasting food?" I asked.  "I'm not sure I consider squash food," he replied.

Getting planted

Dad planted two honeysuckle bushes along the fence yesterday.  I really thought his planting days were about over.  Digging holes in our yard involves using a pick-axe, an axe, and a shovel.  The ground is hard and full of tree roots. It takes more strength than I have.  I try and keep an eye on Dad when he starts on projects like that.  I looked out yesterday and a couple of times he had dropped the tools and was holding on to the fence, looking down.  I always hope he's just examining the hole, not trying to hold himself up. 

A couple of weeks ago, Dad suddenly started telling me where he kept his insurance policies and his investment documents and his will.  I already had a general idea of where to look.  I know it's important that I know these things, but frankly, by the time he finished, I was really upset.  It was like he thought the end was near.  Physically he's getting more unsteady on his feet, but he continues to keep on keeping on as my Uncle Bud likes to say.

The next day, Dad went out to dig holes to plant 2 azaleas.  "Now I know why you were so eager to make me aware of what to do when you die.  You think that by the time you finish digging the holes to plant those azaleas, you'll be ready to be planted alongside them," I told him.  "It may surprise you to know that I'm not in any hurry to put you in the ground, so don't overdo it," I instructed.

He told me that he thought one of the honeysuckle plants was dead when he put it in the ground.  "Well, if it doesn't show any signs of life in a week or so, you can pull it up and plant something else in that hole you worked so hard to dig."  He agreed. 

I thought it was funny that he wanted more honeysuckle.  He spent years telling me that vines like that weren't good for the fence.  Last year he butchered my honeysuckle when he cut it back.  Now, he's suddenly decided that he likes it enough that he wants more planted where he can see it.  I can't keep up with how his mind works.

Stay tuned

Dad informed me a week or so ago that he wanted to add Sports View to our cable package.  He had it several years ago and gave it up because he said he didn't watch it.  Now that he's slowing down physically, he figures he won't be doing as much yard work so he needs something to watch on tv.

Adding Sports View meant adding a cable box and that meant a trip to the cable office.  I put it off for about a week, but finally went on Thursday.  I was surprised to see that they'd removed the plexiglass barrier between the customer service reps and the public.  Now I could actually get my hands around the neck of the rep if he irritated me too much. 

The young man was surprisingly pleasant.  He even told me that I was on their old pricing structure and that he'd switch me to their new pricing structure which would mean that even after adding the box and Sports View, I'd be paying less.  I found that confusing, but could never pin him down as to why their old pricing structure was more than their new pricing structure.  I did confirm that I was not committing to continuing the service for a specified period of time.  I've been with them for years, but I occasionally toy with the idea of switching to satellite.

Dad would love to switch to satellite, but I've resisted so far.  I know how cable works.  I have no desire to make television viewing a confusing experience, which is what will happen if I have to learn how to work a new remote.

I didn't hook up the cable box that night.  I was tired and that's a project best undertaken when I'm fresh and my brain and patience are still functioning at their top levels.  Dad assured me that there was no sporting event on that night that he couldn't live without seeing.  In fact, he said it would be okay if it took me a couple of days to get around to hooking up the box. 

I left the cable box sitting on the couch in the den.  Dad did request a new copy of the tv line-up, which I gave him.  Friday night he came into my study, tv line-up in hand and demanded to know, "How does this thing work?"  "How does what thing work?" I asked, confused.  "Well I've been trying to get all these channels and there's nothing there," he said with disgust.

"That's probably because the cable box is still sitting on the couch.  I haven't connected it yet," I told him.  "You said it was okay to wait a couple of days and it's on my list of things to do tomorrow."  He got a sheepish look on his face.  "I guess I'm getting a little senile in my old age.  Just forget I said anything."  Okay.

When I got ready to hook everything up, I discovered that I needed a power strip with at least an 8-ft. cord.  That required a trip to Lowes.  After I hooked everything up, I had to call the cable company's 800 number so that could send a signal to the box. 

First I had to go through an extended conversation with a woman who sounded like she was in India.  The box would only get 3 channels.  She wanted to reprogram the remote.  I pointed out that if I could only get 3 channesl whether I tried to tune the tv via the remote or the box, then obviously the problem wasn't with the remote.  She finally sent the signal to reset the box and everything was good.

That left me the job of explaining how everything worked to Dad.  He'll have to use the tv remote to turn the tv on and off and adjust the volume.  The cable remote will turn the channels.  If he accidentally tries to turn the channels with the tv remote, he'll wind up getting nothing.  The tv has to be set on channel 3.  If he hits any buttons other than the power button and the channel selection buttons on the remote, and there are many other buttons, I have no idea what will happen, but I'm sure it won't be anything good and will probably involve me having another extended conversation with someone else in India.

I explained all of this to Dad and left him to it.  Shortly thereafter, he appeared in my study.  "This remote won't work," he informed me.  "What do you mean it won't work?" I asked.  "You said I was supposed to use this remote to adjust the volume and turn the tv on and off, but it won't do that."  I went out to his room, pointed the remote at the tv, and adjusted the volume.  "It wouldn't do it for me," he said grumpily.  "Well where were you when you tried to use it?" I asked. 

He sat down in his chair, held the remote in his lap, and attempted to adjust the volume.  Nothing happened.  "You have to point the remote at the tv," I instructed.  "You can't just wave it in the general direction."  Apparently when I was hooking up the tv, I must not have positioned it back at exactly the same angle, so his aim was off.  I told him it would be good exercise to lift his arm and point the remote at the tv.  He didn't go for that idea, so I moved the tv a bit and that seemed to get things working again.

He came  into my room again later that evening.  I braced myself for the next operational error.  "I just wanted to let you know that I remembered everything you said and I was able to watch what I wanted," he informed me.  "Good.  I wondered if I needed to write it down," I answered. 

Last time we had a cable box, he had a habit of trying to use the tv remote to turn the channel and having to come and get me because he couldn't get anything after he turned the tv away from channel 3.  I'm waiting.  It's bound to happen again.  Which is precisely why I don't get satellite.  No point in both of us being incapable of operating the tv.

The donkey

This morning at church we had a special musical program.   It was the Easter version of Lessons and Carols.   The handbell choir didn't perform any solo numbers, but some of us accompanied the choir on a couple of pieces. We were in the choir loft where space is limited.  So to avoid mass confusion and potential disruption of the service, Jane decided only one person should be responsible for setting up the bells for each piece.  I'm not sure how she decided that one person should be me. 

I had a list of what was supposed to go where, but not where it was coming from.   I was terrified of screwing up and being responsible for someone playing the wrong note or not having a bell.  Jane assured me that I'd have plenty of time to move things into place while the choir was singing other hymns.  I told the choir members to be prepared to just ignore me when I panicked.  They thought I was kidding. 

I was furiously making notes right before the service.  Jane looked over in concern and asked if I was going to be okay.  I assured her that by the time I was finished diagramming everything, I'd be fine.   Apparently the other ringers felt sorry for me, or were afraid to leave their bells in my hands, so a couple of them organized their own bells.  Which made all my notes and diagramming worthless. 

Fortunately, all of the bells did get to the right places at the right time.  I didn't manage to ring mine at all of the right times, but everything worked out fine.  I even got listed in the bulletin as an assistant not just a ringer.   Which was especially generous of Jane since I skipped practice last Sunday in favor of watching  Carolina lose the Championship game in the ACC Tournament. 

I'm not sure if there was a lesson there or not.  After I told Jane that being in the vocal choir would interfere with watching my ice hockey in the winter, the NHL lockout happened and there was no ice hockey for half a season.  I'm beginning to think someone's trying to tell me I need to reorder my priorities.

At least I'm in church often enough that the preacher knows my name.  Dad still claims he can't hear and only goes when we're doing a full handbell concert.  He's been known to skip those if there's a game on tv that he wants to see.  Oh God, I'm becoming my father.

An apple a day....

Dad has started eating an apple every day for lunch.  Not a sandwich and an apple, just an apple.  He uses the new paring knife he bought to replace the one that he threw away disappeared and carefully cuts it into sections.  He and Dillon seem to enjoy it.  Dad always shares the scraps with Dillon and Dillon loves apples. 

I'm glad they're happy.  I'd prefer that Dad go back to eating sandwiches at lunch.  Sandwiches don't have pricing labels stuck on them like apples do.  When Dad is preparing his apple, he removes the label and sticks it to the kitchen sink.  Where he leaves it, forever. 

At first, I thought he'd simply forgotten that he'd left the label sticking to the sink.  So instead of getting mad every time I had to throw it away, I reminded him that he should throw the label away instead of just leaving it there for me to clean up.  He told me that it would be too bad if I didn't have something to complain about.  I assured him there was no danger of that happening.  Especially since he keeps leaving the apple label stuck to the sink.

It drives me crazy.  It's in the way of my wiping down the sink after I do the dishes.  And I'm not the maid.  I tried just leaving it there hoping he'd go back and throw it away after he finished eating.  When that didn't work, I just left it there when I cleaned up after lunch.  It was still there at supper and again I ignored it. 

It was still there the following morning, so when I put up the clean dishes, I put away everything.  I normally leave out a bowl since I know he's going to use one and the knife that he likes to use to cut his banana and a spoon for his cereal.  This time I put everything away.  First, because payback is hell.  Second, I hoped if the area was clear, he'd notice that stupid label and throw it away.

It didn't disappear before breakfast, but it was gone by lunch.  Of course, the next day there was another label stuck to the sink when I came home for lunch.  If he keeps it up, the old adage about an apple a day keeping the doctor away is definitely going to be put to the test because I'm liable to do him bodily harm.

Forks on the left, spoons on the right

Dad has a bad habit of keeping the serving spoon or fork when he fixes his plate of food.  When I go to dip my serving, there's no utensil with the dish because he's got it on his plate.  I pointed this out to him yet again the other day.  He told me he was sure there are worse sins in the world.  I thought a minute and informed him that he was probably guilty of those as well.