I finally got a new monitor. My old monitor was getting darker and darker. My wallpaper is a picture of Stonehenge and I’d thought for a long time it was a picture taken at dusk–the stones in shadow, the grass a dark puddle under a indigo sky, all very romantic. Nope. It’s full daylight, light blue sky, clouds, green grass. I just checked all the pictures I’ve posted lately and sure enough, they are all too light. Photoshop isn’t working at the moment so I can’t fix them just yet, but I will as soon as I diagnose the problem–it starts up, then during the splash screen it just goes away. Don’t know why. Anyway, this “new” monitor is used and has a huge scrape right across the front so I can’t look in the middle of the screen, I have to look around the edges. Kind of annoying but I guess it was only $20 (for a 17").
I had a good day yesterday at the ASC New Age Fair. I made some money, did eleven reflexology sessions and two Mayan Oracle readings. That, combined with the left-over money from going to the gem show on Friday and Saturday gives me enough money to buy the sand for my Circle and have some left over in the bank for my business.
My father’s birthday was Tuesday. Sixty-four years old. People aren’t surprised when I say my dad has Alzheimer’s but they are when I say how old he is. Funny that yesterday several people found their way into my reflexology chair who had parents with Alzheimer’s. Or not, the universe has a way of sending people what they need. Sigh. I have to work more on the art of graceful acceptance–I told enough people about it yesterday, now I need to practice what I preach.
So we all went out to eat: me, hubby, dad, mom. We went to Applebee’s (which apparently they DO go to, so I was wrong when I said they didn’t). My father looked at the menu and asked what he likes there. My mother told him, but he wanted to order something else (some shrimp dish) which she said he’s ordered and not liked. He could not believe that he would dislike shrimp but he finally chose the other thing (some kind of pasta with broiled chicken). I got my extra-yummy fajita roll-up with chips and salsa. (why would anyone serve a fajita with french fries? I always substitute.) My father, who has always eaten kind of slow, spent a lot of time cutting “fat” off his chicken–it was broiled strips of breast with absolutely no fat on it. His meat should be served with a scalpel, that’s how much he dissects it (and you all wondered where I got my picky eating from). He was cutting off the char marks and saying they were fat, for instance. The waiters sang to him and gave him a free dessert--apple pie with ice cream and caramel and a candle in it.
When we got back to my house, the package with his gift was on the front porch so we just opened the box and gave it to him. He wasn’t as excited as I had hoped. I know once I give a gift I have no control or attachment to it, if the person chooses to throw it out or misuse it, that’s that person’s issue not mine. But it makes me sad to see it sitting still in the plastic wrapper when it was so expensive and I thought it would bring him joy.
My mom’s having some problems with the bank. I guess when our old bank, Dime Savings, got bought out, they screwed up the transfer of money from one bank to another and only left my dad’s name on all the money, not both. Lawyers from her current bank are looking into proving her name used to be on the money so she can access it. The bank doesn’t want to let my father touch it (he probably told them he has Alzheimer’s, he’s very open about it) and my mom’s name isn’t on it. So that’s a royal fuckup, and nothing I can do about it. I thought she had gotten power of attorney but maybe that’s not how it works? I’m a law-ignoramus.
Thursday night the four of us went shopping at BJ’s. Usually it’s just me and my mom, but my dad wanted to come and Will wasn’t working at night, since he doesn’t have to go to college for a couple of weeks. We lost my father only once, and Will fetched him back. My mother drove and my father dictated and yelled instructions “watch out! You’re too close! Watch for that white car!” Then when my mother got frustrated at some guy who wouldn’t allow enough room for her to get out of the parking space (the guy wanted to pull in) my father told HER to calm down. Very funny, actually.
The worse thing about it was having to be in my parents’ car.My mother and I use these canvas bags for groceries which my grandmother made. They have handles and are very sturdy. A few weeks ago, my mom somehow left a bag in the car which had meat in it. For SIX DAYS. In the summer. In the heat. She said the car was filled with flies. (Ugh.) She finally figured it out, and had to throw the meat away (imagine that). Lest you think my mom is ditzy, she isn’t, not at all. But she is distracted by this whole thing with my dad, obviously. So the car and the bags were reeking of that horrible rotten death-stench. My mom used a lot of that Febreeze stuff and gave me all the bags and a blanket to wash in the Febreeze laundry additive (which is awesome, but I hate the spray stuff, which stinks worse than the smells you might try to cover up). The bags smelled better, but I could still smell it in the car. That’ll kill your appetite.
This weekend was the big gem show at the Big E that we all wait for all year. It’s three days in the Better Living Building, and I have a tax ID for my business so I can get into the wholesale room and buy things at half-price for resale. This year everything I bought was for resale except a sarong to use as a table drape at New Age Fairs (so that counts as a business expense, at least). I went up on Friday and Saturday. I had $194 to spend (the fee from a Shamballa-Reiki class minus Paypal’s greedy fingers) and I ended up with $55 left over after buying 25 crystal merkabas and the drape. Then I made over $200 at the New Age Fair so my business bank balance is going to be back over $100 after I buy sand today. Isn’t that sad? The bank must laugh at me.
So Friday I got home a little after 2 p.m. My leg was really bothering me and I wanted to lounge on the couch with my foot up to ease the swelling. But it wasn’t meant to be. I found a frantic message from Dad on the machine: “I’m in big trouble. You have to help me. I can’t find my keys.” It was from 9:30 in the morning.I called him to see if he’d found the keys yet. He hadn’t. I asked him some questions about the keys, you know, questions you’d ask anyone who lost something: where did you see them last? What keys are on the ring? Where have you been with them? “I don’t know.” Very frustrating. So I get back in the car and drive over there to help find the keys. My mom was just getting home from work and she had to take the fatherbiter cat to the vet. We looked for a while but with no real idea where they could be. My mom said he left them in the door and she’d put them on the counter on Wednesday. He didn’t drive on Thursday night and didn’t know if he’d taken them with him. He claimed the paperboy stole them out of the door. I gave up looking and went home when my mom left with Jasper the fatherbiter to go to the vet. But before I left I gave my father my cell phone number, and Will’s, and my mom’s (all of which he should have already had).Saturday morning I’ve just arrived at the gem show and my cell phone rings. Caller ID says it’s my parents house. It’s Dad. He found his keys.In his bathrobe pocket.
My friends and I had a good laugh over it (not in a mean way). I know it’s only going to get worse.On Saturday the Safe Return bracelet came. It’s nice enough, I guess. It makes me sad. My father was wearing it last night at Grandma’s. He thanked me so earnestly for buying it for him, I think even more than he thanked me for his birthday gift. I wish I hadn’t had to buy it for him, that there was no possibility that in the future he will get lost and need to use it.Today Dad and I are going to go get the sand to finish the Circle. Pictures will be posted as soon as I get Photoshop working again. (1602)