March 4th, 2008

20111112, Marilee

Chick'n Lick'n Not

Last night I made the Greek Salad and it tastes just right. I calculated that it cost me about half to make an equivalent amount here than to get it at Tony's, although they serve a croissant and a piece of cheesebread with it. I had Triscuits with it, which was fine.

Today, I've been off a little. I went out to get gas (3.16!) and realized as I got home that the little door for the gas tank was a bit open. I was hoping I hadn't forgotten to put the cap on and then shut the door, but the cap was there. I guess I just didn't shut the door well enough. Then I toasted some bread in the toaster oven and got a teeny little burn on my finger because I wasn't careful getting the toast out. I did two loads of laundry and the first load, towels and hankies, was meant to go on hot. I looked at the dial, thought "Hot, good" and put stuff in. When I went back to move it to the dryer and put the second load in on cold, I realized it'd been on cold all along.

I did the auction pages for next week's BFAC and I kept screwing up the template. I finally flipped it to read-only. I haven't had to do that before.

So I'm not cooking and prepping chicken thighs for the cats tonight. That takes a knife. At least I've gotten good enough to notice that I can't use a knife before I actually use one. I probably won't be up to it after the long drive to the nephrologist tomorrow, so I moved it to Thursday on my list. The package says to use it before 3/8, and that will count. If I'm still off tomorrow, I'll have to call the neurologist, but probably it's just something temporary. I'm a little sleepy, too.
20111112, Marilee

The Shadow of Death

My brother called me last night, saying Dad had pneumonia and is in the hospital and yesterday the Parkinson's made him unable to eat. He has a DNR and the plan was to move him to hospice for weeks, maybe months.

My stepmother just called and said she thinks he'll die tonight -- that he's having trouble breathing -- and that *his* father went into a coma today. It's not a stroke, but they don't know what. Dad's 74 and Gramps is 94 (also with a DNR). I emailed my cousins to find out more, since they're closer.

I haven't seen Gramps in years, but I'll be sad when he's gone. I'm feeling pretty conflicted about Dad. He hurt me physically and emotionally every day I lived with him and emotionally every time I saw him. He repeatedly told me how worthless I was, even up to the last time he called last year. (Girls are worthless -- I was also stupid, ugly, and nobody would ever love me. Women without husbands and babies are particularly worthless.) On the other hand, I've spent the last 21 years expecting to die before he did, so I never really thought about knowing he'd died. There are still some small good memories there, and I disagree with Patrick, even William F. Buckley's death decreases me, so my father's will, too. But I'm more angry right now than sad. I kept waiting for him to change, to think I was a worthwhile person and valuable, and now it looks like he won't.

I told Rick about Giorgio last night and cried about the cat in bed, so, come to think of it, that's probably why I'm off today. Maybe it'll be a few more days of off.