Actually it was closer to 1:00 AM when I hear the vibrations from my cell phone on the dresser--and leap for it to quick take it into the bathroom and shut the door so I don't keep DK awake, because it can only be YOU KNOW WHO. And sure enough, it is.
"I've been trying to call you for six hours!"
"What's wrong?"
"You're phone doesn't work, I've been trying for SIX HOURS! Six!"
"My phone is fine, Mother, I've been using it all day. So what's wrong?"
"They've been here today outside, out by the road, fixing the lines--"
"Verizon. Yes, I knew that. Bonnie told me. Mama, it was YOUR phone most likely that didn't work. And do they all work now? And the internet?"
"What's your phone number--let me get a pencil--"
"It's the same one I always have, that you just called, that you call me on all the time! Mother if you need me you know can always ring the house phone, yes? Or Denis', or Alex's. You have all their numbers."
"I don't have any other numbers."
"Yes. You do. Who's there with you now? Dominick?" I can hear him in the background reading off phone numbers to her.
"Yes. Do you want to talk to him?"
"No! You called me! Anyhow what is it? What's wrong? Why'd you call? It's freezing in here."
"I couldn't reach you. I tried all day!"
"Well you have now and it's quarter to one in the morning and we were asleep so I will call you tomorrow if that's okay. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
"How's your mother?" Den says, from his side as I crawl back into bed.
"Same."
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
HELP WANTED
So Terri's son, who is in Alabama getting his doctorate in physics but has anxiety issues, is ready to jump off a cliff because he ran out of meds and his apartment is infested with cockroaches and about twelve other things he can't deal with--so Terri has to go down there, after she gets her car fixed over in Springfield. Which means there is no one to do Peg overnights for two weeks.
Plus Terri says Peg wants Terri to leave Heidi, her 11 year old beagle there, which Terri doesn't want to do, because sometimes there are accidents, and there is no guarantee Peg will even remember to let Heidi out. Or back in.
I'm getting all this from Terri on the upstairs phone. And seems Dominick is over there today, Peg called him last night in a panic saying "WHERE ARE YOU??" so he had to suddenly drive over, late, and spend the night. This is after Peg assuring me that she is FINE, perfectly happy being alone the odd night or two, that I am not to worry about her...
I ask Terri to have Peg call me. She rings about 5 minutes later on my cell. Furious that Terri has spoken to me first, SHE likes to be the one with the news. So I have maybe landed Terri in it inadvertantly. I am sorry about that. Peg then handed the phone to Dominick. We discusssed the problem. He's going to see what nights he can do ($50 per night )and will call gay friends Trevor and also John to see if they can possibly stay over once or twice (free). This is where brothers and sisters would be handy.
Peg-Sitters still cheaper than me flying over there. Or so I tell myself. Besides which, I don't fancy flying until the bronchitis subsides, whenever that may be. But may have to.
I am rapidly tiring of the Peg Problem, however bad that sounds to say. Latest is she's going to live to 110, she says.
Hope she finds somewhere nice to live.
Plus Terri says Peg wants Terri to leave Heidi, her 11 year old beagle there, which Terri doesn't want to do, because sometimes there are accidents, and there is no guarantee Peg will even remember to let Heidi out. Or back in.
I'm getting all this from Terri on the upstairs phone. And seems Dominick is over there today, Peg called him last night in a panic saying "WHERE ARE YOU??" so he had to suddenly drive over, late, and spend the night. This is after Peg assuring me that she is FINE, perfectly happy being alone the odd night or two, that I am not to worry about her...
I ask Terri to have Peg call me. She rings about 5 minutes later on my cell. Furious that Terri has spoken to me first, SHE likes to be the one with the news. So I have maybe landed Terri in it inadvertantly. I am sorry about that. Peg then handed the phone to Dominick. We discusssed the problem. He's going to see what nights he can do ($50 per night )and will call gay friends Trevor and also John to see if they can possibly stay over once or twice (free). This is where brothers and sisters would be handy.
Peg-Sitters still cheaper than me flying over there. Or so I tell myself. Besides which, I don't fancy flying until the bronchitis subsides, whenever that may be. But may have to.
I am rapidly tiring of the Peg Problem, however bad that sounds to say. Latest is she's going to live to 110, she says.
Hope she finds somewhere nice to live.
Monday, January 19, 2015
SYNAPSES SHORTCIRCUITING
More so than usual, I fear. It's only bound to get worse, too. Conversations are becoming almost impossible since she jumps around so from one subject to another. I can follow, just about, being used to it by now, but when she tells a story (am basing this on when I was last over there) there's always a point I notice where listeners suddenly sit up and become uber-attentive, and you can see them desperately trying to concentrate, to make a connection, however tenuous, between, say, Peg's insistence that Walter, her producer, was "murdered" years ago by an anti-Jewish faction and his tapes made by Holocaust survivors "stolen"--and, oh, the subject of French toast at the Holiday Inn at Newark Airport, which has been segued into with no warning.
Take yesterday's phone call. Or, Why I Like To Be Around When Peg's Giving Interviews:
"Hi. It's me. Well, we watched two new movies. One about that man who can't talk or walk." [Peg's an Academy member, so gets sent all the Oscar nominations every year]
"'The Theory of Everything'. About Stephen Hawking. Did you like it?"
"Not bad. Sort of sad. And the other one, about the Enigma machine."
"The Imitation Game."
"Was it? Kind of silly. I used to listen to your father talk with Vivi and--what's his name?"
"Ditmar."
"Ditmar--all about the Enigma. About all the homosexuals."
"How would they know, they were in Norway."
"Oh, they talked about it all the time. In Norwegian of course, so I didn't understand ALL of it [NOTE: Peg speaks no Norwegian except perhaps 'Thank you for dinner'] but oh, they'd go on and on about it."
"Right. So-- when do the Kourys arrive? They're due today, right?"
"I wanted baked beans. Just felt like some, you know? Real ones, not just opening a can, so we made some but I don't think I cooked them long enough, they're hard as rocks."
"Really old ones will never soften. Were they old?"
"No, we just got them. Dominick was quite handsome when he was younger, you know, he showed me a photo. Very dark hair. Lots of it, and curly.
"Mother, did the Kourys arrive? And did Bonnie make up the beds?"
"They're bringing a leg of lamb."
"I know. You said."
"Vivi used to get quite heated about it all. They all did."
_______________________
Anyway the Kourys did not come, according to Bonnie, seems they started out from New Jersey at 6:00 AM but the roads were so lethal they had to turn back, then Paul slipped trying to get Jackie out of the car (she had a massive stroke at 40) and did something to his back--anyway it was decided to wait until the better weather arrives, whenever that may be. 2096.
Here's something weird. Every single time I sit down to do a post, almost without fail, all I have to do is type "Peg" or "Mother" and my phone rings. It's like she KNOWS. (God forbid)
Take yesterday's phone call. Or, Why I Like To Be Around When Peg's Giving Interviews:
"Hi. It's me. Well, we watched two new movies. One about that man who can't talk or walk." [Peg's an Academy member, so gets sent all the Oscar nominations every year]
"'The Theory of Everything'. About Stephen Hawking. Did you like it?"
"Not bad. Sort of sad. And the other one, about the Enigma machine."
"The Imitation Game."
"Was it? Kind of silly. I used to listen to your father talk with Vivi and--what's his name?"
"Ditmar."
"Ditmar--all about the Enigma. About all the homosexuals."
"How would they know, they were in Norway."
"Oh, they talked about it all the time. In Norwegian of course, so I didn't understand ALL of it [NOTE: Peg speaks no Norwegian except perhaps 'Thank you for dinner'] but oh, they'd go on and on about it."
"Right. So-- when do the Kourys arrive? They're due today, right?"
"I wanted baked beans. Just felt like some, you know? Real ones, not just opening a can, so we made some but I don't think I cooked them long enough, they're hard as rocks."
"Really old ones will never soften. Were they old?"
"No, we just got them. Dominick was quite handsome when he was younger, you know, he showed me a photo. Very dark hair. Lots of it, and curly.
"Mother, did the Kourys arrive? And did Bonnie make up the beds?"
"They're bringing a leg of lamb."
"I know. You said."
"Vivi used to get quite heated about it all. They all did."
_______________________
Anyway the Kourys did not come, according to Bonnie, seems they started out from New Jersey at 6:00 AM but the roads were so lethal they had to turn back, then Paul slipped trying to get Jackie out of the car (she had a massive stroke at 40) and did something to his back--anyway it was decided to wait until the better weather arrives, whenever that may be. 2096.
Here's something weird. Every single time I sit down to do a post, almost without fail, all I have to do is type "Peg" or "Mother" and my phone rings. It's like she KNOWS. (God forbid)
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
EVEN KEEL
The Famous Boundary Agreement was yesterday signed sealed and delivered (pending an OK from Berkshire Bank, and we don't see a problem there, famous last words). Mike Sanders and his lawyer went over to Peg's and we had a FaceTime conference call while they went over the quit claims, read them all out, and Peg signed on the dotted line. Or not, as it happened, since she signed her name wrong and there was a bit of a palaver as a copy of that particular page had to be brought up on the computer then get the printer to recognize the laptop and---so on. While waiting for all this, and I hung on making small talk about the weather, Peg tried to introduce the Lack of Collie Puppies In Her Life but I nixed that sharpishly, as did Bonnie, even from the other room, changing the subject to short ribs. Anyhow it's all finally done. Sanders said he also had "some ideas" if I wanted to discuss the Leland Road acreage at some point. I do indeed. This is where the frontage is on the Becket property that COULD be parceled off as building plots. In a pinch.
Other than that, it's been quiet. When I don't hear from Peg I have to assume she is happy (ish), which pleases me, since my having to dash over there then seems less urgent. So I have put travel plans on hold. Besides which I'm not feeling 100% yet. Thinner, though, which is nice, having had no alcohol in two weeks and have cut out sugar, having lost the taste for it. The idea of a cookie makes me gag. (Hopefully this will right itself in time.)
So am busying myself working through The List over here, taking advantage of the lull before the storm--because there is SURE one to be brewing. So:
- Typed up an interview I'd done with my dad five years ago about his time in Falstad Prison in Norway during the war. Had promised a copy to the head archivist there (it's now a museum) but hadn't got round to it.
- Had a slew of head shots taken of DK yesterday. The last decent pics of him are about 20 years old and we need some for PR for his upcoming memoirs launch.
- Pruned the roses and cleared dead stuff from two beds and would have raked pine cones but Mabel became annoying trying to eat the rake.
- Got a video ready of an old Ethel and Albert for Comic Relief, Red Nose day in March.
- Found someone to help me turn DK's memoirs into epub and other digital formats. Am sure I can do this myself now, at least for next time.
- Found a landscape designer to re-think this garden/driveway to incorporate New Peg Hutte. The New Peg Hutte she now doesn't want to move into.
- Watched a run-thru of this year's village panto, A Christmas Carol, and gave them my notes, for what they're worth. And again managed to say "no" when it came to getting involved in the running crew. I think I'm prouder of that than anything I've mananged to accomplish ever in Becket. In fact, am going to say "no" all the time I've decided, to everything, now that I've discovered how good I am at it.
And--that's about it. Will continue writing a novel about an incident in Peg's life which has kinda taken my fancy. And hope that Peg meanwhile stays focused on Minnesota because that is keeping her going, as are her pills, which she is now letting Terri oversee at nights. I see on her online banking that she has bought a silver Claddagh ring for Dominick. Not that I wanted one, or indeed any gift, I have far too much crap in my life. Still. I didn't notice any Christmas gifts winging their way over here.
Friday, January 9, 2015
WHAT TO WEAR TO MINNESOTA
…being the all-consuming question. Having finally decided on The Coat (black and white wool plaid) we have moved on to The Hat, despite assurances that she is unikely to need a hat in Minnesota in June, where temperatures can sometimes hit the 100s.
"No, a dressy hat! I always wear a hat. You know me."
"Mother, you haven't worn a hat in forty years. More."
I think in her mind she still sees herself in a "travel outfit', a nice suit with a big picture hat. It must be looking at all the Blue Book photos of herself from Eras Gone By. Next thing is she'll be asking me to get her little white gloves.
One minute she assures me Steve can take her on his own--Steve the Florida fan who looked after his ageing mother for 20 years--but the next minute she's begging me to go too because she wants to "show me off" to this 100 year old friend of hers who probably won't know her from Adam, let alone me.
And, of course, I will have to go, won't I. First of all I cannot dump the sole responsibility of getting a 98 year old to Minneapolis on this Steve. Much as it appeals. And who would be doing it for nothing because he adores her and because it would be "fun", is I believe the word that is being bandied about. At which I pause for a moment, wishing I were the kind of easy going devoted daughter for whom an expedition taking one's old mama back to her roots would indeed be a joy and a blessing, and thereafter feel vaguely disposed to the idea for about twelve seconds before I remember that on the scale of Things That Might Be Considered Fun, I would rather stick pins in my eyes.
Secondly, I will end up going, because there IS a part of me that understands her need to "be home" again. She wants to see the Mayo Clinic in Rochester where she worked and her mother worked. She wants to see the house in Kasson where she grew up. Her grandad's blacksmith shop. And the cemetery where her parents are buried.
"I just worry you'll be disappointed, Mama. That the memories are better than what you'll find."
"I won't be disappointed. Grandad's shop is now an apartment building. The house has been beautifully kept up, looks much better than it used to. They've painted it blue. Nice lawn. Tidy. And the cemetery overlooks a trailer camp. Bud and Wim have kept me posted on everything. I know what to expect."
Okay. Fine. So no big surprises in store then. (Except perhaps that little hole I've dug between her parents and covered with twigs.)
Anyway this has all been going on non stop for a week, a week during which both DK and I have been laid low by the vilest flu known to man and only today have begun to feel vaguely human again. To her credit, Peg HAS asked after our health every day and often even gets as much as "I'm so worried about you!" out or "How are you feeling?" before I get to hear again about how Steve took his mother everywhere by train and it was no problem or how she, Peg, has been told to drink a glass of water every hour if she starts sounding hoarse.
Still. At least we've got the coat business sorted.
"No, a dressy hat! I always wear a hat. You know me."
"Mother, you haven't worn a hat in forty years. More."
I think in her mind she still sees herself in a "travel outfit', a nice suit with a big picture hat. It must be looking at all the Blue Book photos of herself from Eras Gone By. Next thing is she'll be asking me to get her little white gloves.
One minute she assures me Steve can take her on his own--Steve the Florida fan who looked after his ageing mother for 20 years--but the next minute she's begging me to go too because she wants to "show me off" to this 100 year old friend of hers who probably won't know her from Adam, let alone me.
And, of course, I will have to go, won't I. First of all I cannot dump the sole responsibility of getting a 98 year old to Minneapolis on this Steve. Much as it appeals. And who would be doing it for nothing because he adores her and because it would be "fun", is I believe the word that is being bandied about. At which I pause for a moment, wishing I were the kind of easy going devoted daughter for whom an expedition taking one's old mama back to her roots would indeed be a joy and a blessing, and thereafter feel vaguely disposed to the idea for about twelve seconds before I remember that on the scale of Things That Might Be Considered Fun, I would rather stick pins in my eyes.
Secondly, I will end up going, because there IS a part of me that understands her need to "be home" again. She wants to see the Mayo Clinic in Rochester where she worked and her mother worked. She wants to see the house in Kasson where she grew up. Her grandad's blacksmith shop. And the cemetery where her parents are buried.
"I just worry you'll be disappointed, Mama. That the memories are better than what you'll find."
"I won't be disappointed. Grandad's shop is now an apartment building. The house has been beautifully kept up, looks much better than it used to. They've painted it blue. Nice lawn. Tidy. And the cemetery overlooks a trailer camp. Bud and Wim have kept me posted on everything. I know what to expect."
Okay. Fine. So no big surprises in store then. (Except perhaps that little hole I've dug between her parents and covered with twigs.)
Anyway this has all been going on non stop for a week, a week during which both DK and I have been laid low by the vilest flu known to man and only today have begun to feel vaguely human again. To her credit, Peg HAS asked after our health every day and often even gets as much as "I'm so worried about you!" out or "How are you feeling?" before I get to hear again about how Steve took his mother everywhere by train and it was no problem or how she, Peg, has been told to drink a glass of water every hour if she starts sounding hoarse.
Still. At least we've got the coat business sorted.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
NOT SO HAPPY 2015 MELTDOWN
I rang to say Happy New Year to Peg at 2:00 AM my time and the first thing she does is scream "All the puppies are gone! She sold them all!"
She had had Carol Ann the collie breeder on the phone earlier and subjected Carol Ann to tears and hysterics, which Carol Ann doesn't much care for but feels badly about.
"Mother. Wait. Listen. Please. Just for a second. Of course the puppies have been sold, that's the whole idea. And you get the proceeds from one! $1500!"
"I DON'T WANT MONEY I WANT A PUPPY GODDAMMIT!"
How many times, have we had this conversation.
Too many, is the answer.
Nevertheless, because I am a patient sort of daughter, at least for about ten seconds into any conversation with my mother, I explained THE DOG CONTRACT again to her, and then again. And again.
The conversation ended with her in floods of tears yelling "How could you be so CRUEL!!!!" and hanging up on me. I knew she was there alone, three gay boys bearing food had just left, she'd told me, plus she had inadvertantly fired Dominick it turns out, after saying "DON'T BOTHER TO COME HERE ANYMORE!" which he took to mean he'd been eighty-sixed but really she only meant that night, that she wanted to spend the night alone in the house (except of course for Daddy, passing her by on the way to the downstairs loo..). So I rang her back.
This second conversation of 2015 again culminated with her saying "How could you be so CRUEL!!!!" and then hanging up on me.
So at 3:00 in the morning I'm writing Bonnie and Carol Ann and Trevor (one of the boys bearing food) and Dominick and now
THIS JUST IN: a frantic call from Bonnie, racing to Becket to take Peg to the ER. Seems she is in great pain, bladder spasms. This has happened now 4 or 5 times, and it is because she neglects to take her oxybutin meds, which is FOR bladder spasms. And, as you might remember, she won't let any of us monitor The Taking Of Pills because SHE wants to be in CHARGE of them.
Meaning she forgets to take them. And then bad stuff happens.
She is at this moment home alone, the phone line is busy, I have no idea if it's off the hook or she chatting to her hundred-year-old friend in Minnesota or or or….the upshot being I get to sit here being unable to DO anything except wonder if my mother's last words to me are going to be
"How could you be so CRUEL!!!!"
She had had Carol Ann the collie breeder on the phone earlier and subjected Carol Ann to tears and hysterics, which Carol Ann doesn't much care for but feels badly about.
"Mother. Wait. Listen. Please. Just for a second. Of course the puppies have been sold, that's the whole idea. And you get the proceeds from one! $1500!"
"I DON'T WANT MONEY I WANT A PUPPY GODDAMMIT!"
How many times, have we had this conversation.
Too many, is the answer.
Nevertheless, because I am a patient sort of daughter, at least for about ten seconds into any conversation with my mother, I explained THE DOG CONTRACT again to her, and then again. And again.
The conversation ended with her in floods of tears yelling "How could you be so CRUEL!!!!" and hanging up on me. I knew she was there alone, three gay boys bearing food had just left, she'd told me, plus she had inadvertantly fired Dominick it turns out, after saying "DON'T BOTHER TO COME HERE ANYMORE!" which he took to mean he'd been eighty-sixed but really she only meant that night, that she wanted to spend the night alone in the house (except of course for Daddy, passing her by on the way to the downstairs loo..). So I rang her back.
This second conversation of 2015 again culminated with her saying "How could you be so CRUEL!!!!" and then hanging up on me.
So at 3:00 in the morning I'm writing Bonnie and Carol Ann and Trevor (one of the boys bearing food) and Dominick and now
THIS JUST IN: a frantic call from Bonnie, racing to Becket to take Peg to the ER. Seems she is in great pain, bladder spasms. This has happened now 4 or 5 times, and it is because she neglects to take her oxybutin meds, which is FOR bladder spasms. And, as you might remember, she won't let any of us monitor The Taking Of Pills because SHE wants to be in CHARGE of them.
Meaning she forgets to take them. And then bad stuff happens.
She is at this moment home alone, the phone line is busy, I have no idea if it's off the hook or she chatting to her hundred-year-old friend in Minnesota or or or….the upshot being I get to sit here being unable to DO anything except wonder if my mother's last words to me are going to be
"How could you be so CRUEL!!!!"
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