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This Day in My History

2001:  No Tribble at All
2002:  They Might be Giants
2003:   Flying for Me
2004:  Clam Dip
A Taste of Freedom
2006:  Door to Door

"Importance of Being Earnest"

Books Read in 2007
(Updated 1/15
"Snow in April")

Currently Reading
"The Cat Who Could Read Backwards"
"Dog is My Co-Pilot"



Mefeedia Video Archive

My Favorite Video Blogs

Desert Nut

(for others, see Links page)

Look at these videos!
Andy Taylor & the Patriot Act
T.R.Knight responds to gay slur
Deal or No Deal Baby
24 Montage
Lion Hug

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Xmas Puppies

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Support liberty and justice for all

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2 February 2007

"We're going to have to do some cleaning around here on the weekend," she announced at breakfast. "I'll try to dust and you can vacuum."


You mean...more cleaning?

I've been rather proud of myself these past few days. The dishes are always loaded into the dishwasher at the end of the meal and the dishwasher unloaded in the morning. I remember to load the silverware basket of the dishwasher with only spoons in one section, only forks in another, and only knives in a third, because it's "neater" to unload. The sink is scrubbed and would make the Fly Lady proud.

I sleep on the couch at night and fold my Sheila blanket (which I brought with me) up in the morning and move my pillow back to the bed in the spare bedroom, so it won't clutter the living room.

I sweep crumbs off the kitchen floor and pick them off the carpet. I check to make sure that all cupboard and drawers are fully closed, since I tend to leave everything slightly ajar, in true Aquarian fashion and I know that drives her Virgo sensibilities crazy.

I make my mother's bed as soon as she gets out of it, whether from a night of sleep or a nap. I remember to pile the decorative pillows just right, the "sleeping pillows" on the bottom, then the flounce pillows, then the decorative pillows, big in back, little in front.

Her clothes are hung up immediately, each on its color-coded hanger (how could I hang the PINK shirt on the YELLOW hanger? ... I'm introducing her to Monk on Friday). My own clothes are tossed in a heap in the spare bedroom, where she can't see them from her wheelchair. It makes me feel more "at home."

The plants are watered and no longer droop. Leaves that are past their prime are picked off and thrown away. The plants seem to be surviving care by someone with a black thumb.

The newspaper, once read (and the crossword puzzle worked in ink) is reassembled into the section order in which it was delivered, and moved out to the laundry room to be taken down to recycling, once I have a reason to navigate the treacherous metal ramp (I've discovered Birkinstocks' rubber soles are a godsend).

A friend of hers from Hospice of Marin came to call yesterday and I was proud that the house looked mother's house. But now we have to schedule cleaning? I frantically thought of the caretaking schedule. Maybe my cousin Kathy would be here for her shift by then. She cleans. She could do a goood job. But no, she's not coming until Sunday. It will be just me and my mother ... cleaning.

And so I will face a new learning experience: cleaning a clean house. I hope that doesn't include windows. The only windows I'm familiar with come attached to a computer.

In spite of it all, I'm loving being here and even, temporarily, not minding the order of it all. We get up in the morning, I fix her coffee and get the paper for her, then make her breakfast. We sit at the table and read the paper and talk over the days events and what George has done to destroy the country today. It's a little strange not having the TV on all day, but that void has been filled by our noisy card games (I still say she cheats). We haven't had this much alone time...perhaps ever. We're remniscing about times past, discussing times present and laughing a lot. I'm loving having her all to myself.

I hope Walt doesn't feel that all this cleaning and neatness and stuff is going to spill over to our house when I get home. After a week of neatness, I intend to toss my un-packed suitcase on the nearest chair where it will sit for a few days, settle myself in behind a nice tall pile of papers and a couple of energetic dogs, and just vegetate until it's time to come back here in a few days to work with The Clean Queen again.

There's only just so much "neatness" that an Aquarian can handle.

New Developments: Compounding the inherent problems of a Virgo at the mercy of an Aquarian, no matter how well-meaning, there has developed the difficulty when the Aquarian in question is a klutz. Today alone: I put an egg shell in the garbage disposal and caused the sink to clog; natural bodily functions caused the guest bathroom toilet to clog and I'm not sure what I'm going to do at 4 a.m., since plunging hasn't helped; and I dropped a stack of dishes and discovered that Corelleware is not unbreakable; a glass of water with ice in it "sweat" outside so that when I picked it up, I dropped it and left tiny shards of glass all over the floor.

And there is a new complication: Kathy, my cousin who was going to relieve me on Sunday, is not well and doesn't think she is up to being here, so it looks like I'm here until next week, and who knows what the house will be like by the time I leave.





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