The day was hot and sultry and we had invited our son's girlfriend's parents to our Bay cottage where we would have crabs by the water. We had never met them and the idea was hatched by our son who suggested we also invite our other son and his frisky daughters. Won't that be awkward, I asked, the girls demand so much attention. We won't really get to talk with the parents.. That's the point, said our son. Her father is a right wing crazy, spouting off at odd moments. But he's really a nice guy. Yeah. right.We've warned him to stay silent but I don't know if her can, said my son.
Great.
Honestly, the father was OK even if he didn't make eye contact when he spoke and seemed tense and not particularly interested in learning anything about us. I felt pleasant conversation was an effort for him. I am tired of people like that and I stopped trying to engage him in any conversation. It was a hot, humid day and I'm thinking, tell me, why am I hosting these people again? Hey, son, you owe me one.
It gets worse.
Our son's girlfriend (a sweet, sensible woman) brought her dog with them, a small rescued Norweigan Elkhound mix. The dog is docile but doesn't like other dogs. Poor Zoey is territorial and usually doesn't like other dogs, either. They were tied up apart from each other while we ate crabs because earlier in the day they got into a brief fight before they were pulled apart.. I wasn't looking but behind me a fierce dogfight erupted. The girlfriend tried to intervene and was bitten. A puncture wound which will be the way we will all remember this day.
The poor girlfriend made light of it but the next day she was in the ER for seven hours with streaks and a swollen arm. On IV antibiotics and internsive therapy for a week since she is allergic to some antibiotics.
Monday, July 27, 2015
Monday, July 20, 2015
retirement options
I keep thinking about that topic. Not so much retirement but "aging" which is not static, but an ongoing process of physical and mental decline. Sorry, but that is reality. We inevitably age and must face the accommodations that are necessary to make us safe and comfortable duing that process.
After her divorce, my sister moved back to our hometown where she still has high school friends and where she can walk to the main street that has shopping and restaurants. Her condo is pre-war and spacious. She put a lot of money into making it comfortable and modern. It's a perfect home for many reasons but it is on the second floor of her building. No elevator. What happens when she realizes she can no longer walk up those stairs? Will she have to face another move when the first one from her home was so difficult and traumatic?
Stairs, accessibility and location are basic elements of "aging in place"
and a stress free retirement. No stairs, period - unless you are renting and can move in a year. An open floor plan with universal design, a walk in shower, light switches at wheelchair level - everyone over 50 should consider those accommodations.
Location is a tricky one. A neighbor who has lived in our community for 24 years lost her husband about 8 years ago. She keeps saying she will move but cannot decide where. Her home is comfortable and she has moved her bedroom to the first floor. She is physically active, mentally adept. "I'll stay here for two more years and then I'm moving near one of my kids", she says. She has four sons and a daughter and they don't live near each other. So - which to choose to live near? And what if life circumstances change and the child moves? I think of neighbors in Florida who left Florida to be near their children, hated the place they moved to, hated the doctors and didn't see that much of the kids and grandkids, anyway. Now they are back in Florida, full time. She has a sister nearby in Florida. That will be her support system, not her kids. I've noticed more and more that siblings, cousins, etc live near each other when they retire to Florida. Nothing is guaranteed. Siblings can get ill or die, move away, too. It's a fluid stage of life and ironically couldn't come at a worse time when we are sometimes dealing with so much else.
After her divorce, my sister moved back to our hometown where she still has high school friends and where she can walk to the main street that has shopping and restaurants. Her condo is pre-war and spacious. She put a lot of money into making it comfortable and modern. It's a perfect home for many reasons but it is on the second floor of her building. No elevator. What happens when she realizes she can no longer walk up those stairs? Will she have to face another move when the first one from her home was so difficult and traumatic?
Stairs, accessibility and location are basic elements of "aging in place"
and a stress free retirement. No stairs, period - unless you are renting and can move in a year. An open floor plan with universal design, a walk in shower, light switches at wheelchair level - everyone over 50 should consider those accommodations.
Location is a tricky one. A neighbor who has lived in our community for 24 years lost her husband about 8 years ago. She keeps saying she will move but cannot decide where. Her home is comfortable and she has moved her bedroom to the first floor. She is physically active, mentally adept. "I'll stay here for two more years and then I'm moving near one of my kids", she says. She has four sons and a daughter and they don't live near each other. So - which to choose to live near? And what if life circumstances change and the child moves? I think of neighbors in Florida who left Florida to be near their children, hated the place they moved to, hated the doctors and didn't see that much of the kids and grandkids, anyway. Now they are back in Florida, full time. She has a sister nearby in Florida. That will be her support system, not her kids. I've noticed more and more that siblings, cousins, etc live near each other when they retire to Florida. Nothing is guaranteed. Siblings can get ill or die, move away, too. It's a fluid stage of life and ironically couldn't come at a worse time when we are sometimes dealing with so much else.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Sleepless in Seattle
We are visiting our daughter in Seattle and it has taken some adaptation. The mornings and evenings are freezing but the days are hot. The sun comes up at 4 a.m. No one has ac and lots of people, including our daughter, don't have TV's . Drives my husband crazy.
The neighbors have chickens in their backyards and hang out their wash. One neighbor with an extra lot is building and organic "farm" He spent close to 700K for the house and land to get what he wanted. Typically, the yards are so small that you can look down into each other's windows. This is the CITY, not a rural outpost. Composting of food waste is required or you get a fine.
Our daughter's home is a slow work in progress. It will be beautiful when it is done but there are rough edges. Like an unfinished bathroom on the second floor where we slept. Like a garden that needs rejuvenation. THAT was fun and our son, who was also visiting, organized a work party to weed and plant the front yard. We used flowers we can't grow back east, such as delphinium and some familiar ones such as Glowing Embers hydrangea (gorgeous) and Ladys Mantle (an old favorite of mine). Put in bags and bags of compost but haven't finished.
There are benefits to a Seattle lifestyle. A walkable in city neighborhood with great restaurants and shops and a real life pharmacy, not a CVS. Few chains. A great place for millenials.
No income tax. But small government comes with stingy services. Our daughter's water main broke at the street last fall and she had to pay to replace it (several thousand dollars) ll the way to the curb
The neighbors have chickens in their backyards and hang out their wash. One neighbor with an extra lot is building and organic "farm" He spent close to 700K for the house and land to get what he wanted. Typically, the yards are so small that you can look down into each other's windows. This is the CITY, not a rural outpost. Composting of food waste is required or you get a fine.
Our daughter's home is a slow work in progress. It will be beautiful when it is done but there are rough edges. Like an unfinished bathroom on the second floor where we slept. Like a garden that needs rejuvenation. THAT was fun and our son, who was also visiting, organized a work party to weed and plant the front yard. We used flowers we can't grow back east, such as delphinium and some familiar ones such as Glowing Embers hydrangea (gorgeous) and Ladys Mantle (an old favorite of mine). Put in bags and bags of compost but haven't finished.
There are benefits to a Seattle lifestyle. A walkable in city neighborhood with great restaurants and shops and a real life pharmacy, not a CVS. Few chains. A great place for millenials.
No income tax. But small government comes with stingy services. Our daughter's water main broke at the street last fall and she had to pay to replace it (several thousand dollars) ll the way to the curb
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
What you don't know about people
A neighbor who falls in that in between zone between friend and acquaintance ran into my husband while they were both out dog walking recently. Oh, we'll have to get together she said, what are you doing this weekend? My husband said she should call me, the designated social planner (although he didn't put it that way). Which she did.
We met at a neighborhood restaurant we both like. They were a bit late in arriving and I noticed immediately she was different. Very "up', very gregarious. Did she have a drink or two before coming? Was it possible she was already a bit drunk?
It got worse. She had maybe a glass or two of wine during dinner and became very uninhibited. She dislikes mutual neighbors, something I long suspected. Frankly, my husband and I feel the same way about these neighbors but for different reasons.
Now, imagine our neighbor, sitting beside me, across from our husbands. She is sophisticated and well dressed. Her neighborhood "walking the dog" outfits tend toward Ralph Lauren polo with soft Italian leather loafers. She had a fabulous dress on that that night, maybe designer but I'd never know.. The restaurant is a sedate white table cloth French place, catering to an older crowd. The French abhor noisy loud Americans - I learned that from a few visits there years ago.
My friend/neighbor would attract attention solely by her appearance. On this evening, looking fabulous and glamorous, she was loud. She dominated the conversation at our table, getting louder and louder. At some point she became quasi-incoherent. I couldn't understand what she was saying. It was not slurring, just that the words didn't go together coherently, like a psychotic stream-of-consciousness. She was loud. Guess I already said that.
At one point my friend/neighbor said. What's that woman looking at me for, I'd like to punch her lights out. I didn't dare look, but I knew the table she was talking about. Two large and dowdy women were having a special occasion dinner with their husbands. Surely, they disapproved since my friend was saying f*****g this and that. And she was gorgeous to boot.
Then, I had to laugh. About the neighbors she hates she said loudly , "She's a f*****g Republican and he's a spy." I wondered what the dowdy table thought of that bon mot. Actually, I was more concerned about our very French waitress who seemed chagrined.
In the parking lot my neighbor walked me to the car and said, I've suffered with depression my whole life but this new medicine is terrible. I've gotta call my psychiatrist tomorrow and change my prescription.
On the way home, perplexed and intrigued, I asked my husband, Do you think he's really a spy? CIA? Naw, said my husband.
An evening or two later, as I was weeding our front garden in the dimming light, the husband of our loud neighbor walked by with their dog. I almost never see him. This was an intentional bump-into thing on his part. He stopped, we chatted about everything...upcoming vacations, recent storms in our neighborhood, our dogs, even the delicious meal we had at the French restaurant. The elephant in the living room was his wife's behavior at dinner. We never discussed that. He lingered too long and I was waiting for an entre but it never came. Surely, I couldn't bring anything up. As I write this, it strikes me, I should call her. She is in some kind of distress. But I hesitate.
Then, before this blog post was finished, she called me. Apologized. No need to say that, I said, we had fun and we have all have had those experiences. Maybe it was drug interaction or dehydration said she. Amen. Smart that she called.
We met at a neighborhood restaurant we both like. They were a bit late in arriving and I noticed immediately she was different. Very "up', very gregarious. Did she have a drink or two before coming? Was it possible she was already a bit drunk?
It got worse. She had maybe a glass or two of wine during dinner and became very uninhibited. She dislikes mutual neighbors, something I long suspected. Frankly, my husband and I feel the same way about these neighbors but for different reasons.
Now, imagine our neighbor, sitting beside me, across from our husbands. She is sophisticated and well dressed. Her neighborhood "walking the dog" outfits tend toward Ralph Lauren polo with soft Italian leather loafers. She had a fabulous dress on that that night, maybe designer but I'd never know.. The restaurant is a sedate white table cloth French place, catering to an older crowd. The French abhor noisy loud Americans - I learned that from a few visits there years ago.
My friend/neighbor would attract attention solely by her appearance. On this evening, looking fabulous and glamorous, she was loud. She dominated the conversation at our table, getting louder and louder. At some point she became quasi-incoherent. I couldn't understand what she was saying. It was not slurring, just that the words didn't go together coherently, like a psychotic stream-of-consciousness. She was loud. Guess I already said that.
At one point my friend/neighbor said. What's that woman looking at me for, I'd like to punch her lights out. I didn't dare look, but I knew the table she was talking about. Two large and dowdy women were having a special occasion dinner with their husbands. Surely, they disapproved since my friend was saying f*****g this and that. And she was gorgeous to boot.
Then, I had to laugh. About the neighbors she hates she said loudly , "She's a f*****g Republican and he's a spy." I wondered what the dowdy table thought of that bon mot. Actually, I was more concerned about our very French waitress who seemed chagrined.
In the parking lot my neighbor walked me to the car and said, I've suffered with depression my whole life but this new medicine is terrible. I've gotta call my psychiatrist tomorrow and change my prescription.
On the way home, perplexed and intrigued, I asked my husband, Do you think he's really a spy? CIA? Naw, said my husband.
An evening or two later, as I was weeding our front garden in the dimming light, the husband of our loud neighbor walked by with their dog. I almost never see him. This was an intentional bump-into thing on his part. He stopped, we chatted about everything...upcoming vacations, recent storms in our neighborhood, our dogs, even the delicious meal we had at the French restaurant. The elephant in the living room was his wife's behavior at dinner. We never discussed that. He lingered too long and I was waiting for an entre but it never came. Surely, I couldn't bring anything up. As I write this, it strikes me, I should call her. She is in some kind of distress. But I hesitate.
Then, before this blog post was finished, she called me. Apologized. No need to say that, I said, we had fun and we have all have had those experiences. Maybe it was drug interaction or dehydration said she. Amen. Smart that she called.
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