It was a saddish sort of moment for me, realizing that I might be using the last large picture of George W. Bush to line the bottom of Pudgie's cage. Cage cleaning is boring, so I've amused myself for several years by trying to line up pictures of the Former pResident with the bird's potty spot. Pudge is potty trained, as any "shoulder bird" must be. I trained him by catching his pre-poop body movements, and returning him to the cage, with the command "Go potty." It only took a couple of days, because parrots are smart, but the side benefit was that he always moves to that same spot on his perch to poop. At first I cheated and "forced" the photos into the right spot, but it was more of a challenge to see if I could do it fairly. I have to find another way to amuse myself now. It wasn't a huge political statement, but it was satisfying.
Just to be clear, Obama pictures are sacred. They don't go into the cages at all.
My dad died 4 months ago yesterday, at home. It was a shock, in spite of his age. He was 86, but strong and healthy, with only the usual old-age infirmities, as far as we knew. Mom has dementia. She must have spent several hours with him before coming out of their apartment to tell my sister Joanna "I think my husband is dead." I had about 10 minutes alone with dad before the police took over. He was on his side, curved around a pillow, as though he'd been sleeping on the floor. His beautiful, translucent hand was arced over his cheek, about 3 inches above it, and his face was peaceful and serene. I said the Benediction, holding his hand, with my other hand on his forehead. I didn't know I remembered that benediction. He was a minister, so it shouldn't have surprised me that I'd remember those words. What should have been surprising was that I'd think to say them.
I tried to get all outraged about the idea that Our Government Was Spying On All US Citizens. It's outrageous, but exactly what I'd come to expect. Republican President = Erosion of Civil Rights. eom
Wouldn't it have been affirming if President Obama had been able to talk about having Muslim relatives, and having lived in a Muslim country, on American television? I'm not (mis)underestimating the importance, the profound importance, of Americans choosing a black President, but am still saddened that the bigots and the phobic are able to make his heritage and his history a deficit rather than a virtue.
I also tried to get outraged about the Republican rejection of Obama's bipartisan overtures. I can't. I'm tickled that they're playing their parts so very well. After decades of avoiding political news (it's bad for my heart, all that rage), I'm like a crack addict waiting for the next fix, searching for clues about our President's next move. This is great theatre.
Some ideas about what to do next? I'm encouraging my sister Carole to run for school board next election cycle. Texas has so many creationists and other destructors in these critical positions! We need change. I'd run myself, but my history would be a feast for the buzzards of the moralistic majority. It's a pity I don't live in an age where "interesting" women are admirable. Wait - was there such an age? I mean since the Goddess religions were destroyed, of course.
We're a three-generation household, all female now that dad has left us. My sisters and I are the 3 in the middle, their daughters (born 6 months apart) fill the youngest generation role, and mom is the matriarch, age 84. Sami and Nicole are delightful, in spite of being 14 and with all that entails.
Mom's dementia is advanced, but Aricept seems to be bringing her back to us a bit.
Her apartment door has to be left open. It isn't safe to leave her alone, and she gets scared if she can't see or hear us. It's a huge job managing a parent with dementia, like having a toddler underfoot, but a toddler who can't play with toys or be distracted with activities. She can still wash dishes, but can't figure out where they go after they're dry. We've convinced her not to use the washer and dryer, finally, and the oven in her apartment is disabled. I forgot about that at Christmas. The green bean casserole never made it to the dinner table, but we ate it the next day.
It's hard to have a mom who looks right, but isn't your mom, not really.
I'm bi-polar. My meds cost $700+ a month. I've spent the last 45 years without health insurance, and so without medication much of the time. It's not likely I'll ever have a job with health insurance - uncontrolled bi-polar disorder tends to lead to job loss, and no references. I'm the poster child for a new way of delivering health care in a lot of ways. Sometimes I wonder what I might have accomplished, what I'd have been able to offer if I hadn't been battling my demons. Then I remember that I'm alive, and that's a miracle. And I'm not alone.