D Selby Designs

The funeral pre-planning went well, and Mom is so pleased to have it all sorted out. I told her that she’d be lying in her coffin at the funeral worrying about niggling details! I came by that trait honestly.

Work will start up again (if contractors are to be believed) on the studio next week, and Mom has insisted on making the next payment. Yes, we stopped life as we knew it to take up her care, and no, we have not expected her to contribute to housekeeping on Crown Court, but it still seems unseemly for us to take money from her. She says it will make her feel less like a guest (or maybe she actually used the word, ‘burden’; that would be more in her lexicon) and a more rightful part of this home. Greg didn’t hesitate to accept her offer, but I do have two siblings to consider.

I heard that, Carey.

Bear with me for a bit while I post images of past Purse Perfects. It seems the easiest way to beam them to someone who’s interested, since I no longer have that web site.

For those of you keeping up with my social calendar, tomorrow is hearing aid check up day for Mom. She’s had a couple of mentally sharp days, so Greg and I may try and see a movie. We also need to get in touch with a dear friend whom we’ve left along the wayside in all the Mom Drama. Do you ever do that? Love someone dearly, but life is too busy for you to take the time to say so? Well, a sermon I heard lately was based on “Unexpressed gratitude will be interpreted as lack of gratitude.”

Act on your good thoughts!

Well, she is homeless in that she no longer owns her home, but is with us until the bitter or blessed end, or until we lose our home–whichever comes first. The closing went without a hitch and we celebrated with dinner out, afterwards. For which Zach paid. Seemed appropriate, though my mother was more than willing to throw around some of her new cash.

I paid all of her bills last night, and today made an appointment for pre-planning her funeral. I know. It’s macabre, but it’s been her main topic of conversation since she’s been with us. Tomorrow at 11 AM, Milward’s on Southland Drive. Today, we had to look at all the little stubs from ten years ago, when she and Dad paid off their burial plots. And you think I have no social life! Ha!
Here’s the thing: if God breathed life into a lump of dirt to create us humans (and I believe He did), then why would He need my bones to give me a spiritual body for eternity? My kids know that my heart goes to Louisville Jewish so medical students can see how well the patch held up, and the rest of me can be sent to Crabtree and Evelyn for rendering into soap. I’m partial to the Jojoba.

We have one freakin’ big storm blowing through. Nearly 60 degrees F today, and tomorrow, the high is to be 22. Maybe it will put Mom in the mind of cryogenics.

At least, that’s what the mortgage broker tells us. After months of waiting for all planets to be correctly aligned, Zach is buying Mom’s house. She has gone from elation to “somebody stole my house,” so we’ll see what happens after the signing today.

Zach is already in habitation, and has stripped wallpaper and torn out nasty carpet. Isn’t it amazing that the crud we live with looks so unsavory when someone else takes over? Carey came up from Atlanta last week and helped out. It was her intent to do some decorative painting, but believe me, that canvas ain’t quite ready!

That house has been in the family for over forty years, and now will continue to be so. It was my high school home, my weekends-home-from-college refuge, and a place where all 4 of Mom’s grandkids played on the swing hanging from the big black cherry tree. Dad puttered around in the garage for hours every day before leaving for work, which helped him stay married until death did them part.

Yes, I’m glad Zach is taking over. It may not be for long, but it’s still ‘home’ in the best sense.

And a child shall lead us.

My daughter encouraged me to blog again, and my response was that I like to have something to say, first. My life is a one-trick pony these days. She vehemently disagreed, so with her urging I will take a shot once more.

Greg and I had lunch with some long-term (not ‘old’!) friends after church today. Most of you who read this blog (all three of you) know that we go to a very large church, and it’s easy to get lost in the crowd. We ran into Pam and Scott months ago and tried to get together, but with kids, parents, and illnesses there never seemed to be a good time–so we gave up. After running into them again last week, and blocking the flow of pedestrian traffic at church (islands in the stream?) we decided to shoot for today. I’ve been nursing an aching back for days, and was determined not to miss this, so drugged up and ready, we did indeed have lunch. At Ramsey’s. The omelet was delicious.
What a blessing! Pam’s ninety-something mother is going through the same craziness as Mom, but in a local nursing facility. Pam’s story: her mother lost the ‘0′ on the telephone. It was there. She just couldn’t find it. My story: this morning, Mom was searching for something in her bedclothes as I came in with her morning cup of tea. I assumed it was one of her hearing aids (or ‘ear rings’, as she calls them) but saw that both ‘ear rings’ were in place. She said, “No, there’s that other thing. There are 3 of them,’ and kept looking. I thought about it for a second, and had my suspicions confirmed. She had not yet put her teeth in, and instead of checking the cup in the bathroom, she was looking amongst the sheets. We both had a good laugh, which beats crying any day.

Last night, Greg came into the den so pleased with himself. He had shown Mom how to run the channels with her TV remote, like this was something I’m too butt-stupid to have shown her. I hope he’ll be just as pleased with himself after the 47th time of showing her, as it’s something I’ve demonstrated at least five times a week since her arrival in August. That’s the hardest part: repetition. Answering the same blasted question for the 100th time without raising my voice, or being disrespectful and rolling my eyes so hard that they ‘get stuck that way’, as Mom promised could happen when I was a teenager.

I am becoming a more patient person. No, really. I am. I can’t remember who said, “Nothing that is necessary is unendurable,” but I read the quote recently, and I like it. It’s my new mantra.

The posted image is of a Versailles living room with drapes by De. I’m not doing much painting these days, as I’m still waiting for my studio. It’s coming along.