Sunday with Dad

Just after 10 AM I pulled up to the adult family home to pick up Dad for church. He was all dressed with an outfit laid out by the lead caregiver; his best white shirt, a red tone striped tie and brown trousers. Dad enjoys getting out for a church service; we try to make it once a month. We missed out on July altogether because of my on-call schedule, our annual summer BBQ, and my spur of the moment trip to Spokane last weekend.  When my sister and brother are in town, they take Dad to church. My last outing of this type was months ago. My turn.

As I helped Dad maneuver into the car, I heard a crow cawing loudly from a tall tree behind us. I listen more intently for crows of late; my Mom adored crows. I suddenly feel her presence when I see or hear from one or more of these mysterious creatures. So also does my Dad apparently. Today he shared that he looks for crows out his bedroom window and enjoys watching their antics. "Your mother loved  crows", he reminded me. Yes, I know; how well I know.

Dad studies the program

Sharing the printed hymn

When all is said and done, the experience is truly my pleasure. I may not be enthused when I leave home on Sunday morning to begin the four hour investment of my time but I finish the experience basking in good feelings. He's appreciative and most definitely made to feel a part of the mainstream. Life in the adult family home is quiet and probably very boring for him.

Although Dad's hearing aids are typically on the fritz and he misses most of the sermon, he enjoys the talents of the organist and the choir. Three very special people came over to greet him and I could tell Dad was pleased he remembered all their names even though I doubt he heard much of what they said.

I'm proud to stand with him, to hear his frail, once powerful voice in song, to share communion, and put simply, to partake in the moment with him. It may not have been church-like to use my I phone to take pictures during the service but....I did and I'm glad.

Till next time, Dad. Till next time.

DQ Tops Krispy Kreme's Stab at Soft Serve

DQ in Ellensburg, WA

I love soft serve ice cream; vanilla flavored on top of a vanilla cone. The craving gnaws at me whenever I spy a Dairy Queen franchise. The problem is (or perhaps the blessing): Seattle has no DQ outlets other than one in West Seattle (waaaaaay too far away). You've got to drive north, south, or east out of the city to find a DQ.  Find them I do whenever on the road, headed out of town. A soft serve cone is a grand treat on the road.

Last weekend there were two opportunities to satisfy my craving; on the way to Spokane Friday afternoon and again, driving home on Monday. Yum.

So white. So creamy. Just the right amount of sweetness. Ahhhh.

End of the story? Not yet. I spied Krispy Kreme's latest summer treat (Kool Kreme) advertised at the south Seattle outlet. These KK franchises are easier to find in our fine city. I thought a good stand-in for the DQ vanilla cone would be mine. Alas, no. Kool Kreme soft serve tasted gritty, flavorless, and sported a weird shade of off white. 

DQ: you've still got my vote

She Sells Mary Kay

Yesterday Ms. Laura had a Mary Kay introductory sales event at the local MK center in Spokane with her mentor in attendance. She recently signed on as a sales associate and this event was the kickoff of her retail experience. Although there were dozens of invitations sent out, there were few takers; something about the time of year and travels, I'm sure.  But, a trusty few showed up and we had a good time; treated to a pedicure and facial Mary Kay style and a viewing of all the products. Very nice.

  

I bought entirely too much product. I suppose it won't go to waste though; it's very nice "stuff". I figure I'm supporting my daughter in her new venture. 

Any other interested parties?  There are men's products too; did you hear that Denny?

She Has Guinea Pigs

My college roommate and I reasoned that a pair of guinea pigs would be a good idea the fall of our freshman year. I remember their names, burned into memory forever: "Rosetta" and " Sebastian". We kept them in the large bottom drawer of a desk (opened of course). I guess we were too cheap to purchase a proper cage. We had them for less than a month. Sebastian escaped from his makeshift "cage", found and ate an entire powdered donut, and died right before the Thanksgiving holiday. Ms. B flew home for Thanksgiving and took Rosetta with her (I know not how; probably in her large satchel purse) and left her  in the care of her younger sisters.  I was glad.

My daughter adores guinea pigs; so much that she now has four. This one above is not even a week old. The mama guinea, a belly growing and moving with waving legs, gave birth to but one offspring last Sunday. Huge baby. How could she ever birth a litter?

Sigh. There are males and females here. I'm worried about that.

On the Road to Spokane

 

The 290 mile drive from Seattle to Spokane breaks down into 3 pieces. Seattle to Ellensburg involves an uphill drive to the Snoqualmie Summit and downhill into the valley beyond. I love Ellensburg because the Dairy Queen makes for a perfect first stop. Gotta love those soft serve cones. 

Top that little treat off with one of these to fuel the remainder of the journey and I'm set for the next 200 miles through parts 2 and 3 of the trip.

I

The next 100 miles winds up-hill through dry scrub and sandstone cliffs, bluffs, and wide open views. Then, a downhill descent to the Columbia River follows with another uphill past the Gorge and the miniscule town of George, WA. 

The final stretch is flat, flat, flat through fields, the townships of Moses Lake and Ritzville, and on into Spokane. The first Ponderosa pine tree tells me I'm getting onto the home stretch.  Love those evergreens.

Arrival in Spokane; trip accomplished. Time to enjoy the weekend with my daughter.

Annual Haircut

For weeks I've been asking my Dad if Mr. Buffy, the alpha male cat who shares the adult family home with several other subservient felines, submitted to his annual, summer shave.

"Not that I've seen....", he'd respond.

Until, tonight....Dad, who rarely calls me, picked up the phone to announce that "the cat had his haircut today".  Thanks for letting me know, Dad....I visited a couple of days later and found Sir Buffy camped out on his usual chair.

Why do I care?  Because Buffy looks really cute and makes me laugh. Although he may not appreciate his new look, I'm sure it's more comfortable in the summer.  His fur, a renewable resource, will be back to the long, shaggy look by October.

What I love is the feel of his warm body. A normal body temperature for a cat is 101.5 F. You'd never know this when an abundance of fur shields the full effect.

I know Buffy doesn't look too happy here. But, he never does. That's just him.

Visiting Dad

I try to visit my Dad at his adult family home every day that I'm not at work. Depending on the week it could be as few as two days a week or as many as four. This past week it was three; Sunday, Monday and Saturday. The round trip from my house to his is 18 miles. Traffic can be a real pain on weekends with everyone hitting the stores at Northgate Mall, the hot spot a mile from Dad's place.

Dad knows the days I'm scheduled to work and the days I'm off. He keeps a calendar in his walker and periodically asks me to write in my work schedule so he'll know when I'll return.  Sometimes when we go four or five days without a visit, he gets very teary on the phone and asks, "When can I expect to see you again?" Talking on the phone is a poor substitute for a visit. When we do connect by telephone, the brevity of the conversation strikes me as sad. Whereas Mom and I would prattle on for ten or fifteen minutes, I'm on the line with Dad for less than two. His hearing is so marginal that I end up shouting into the line and half the time I know he hasn't understood a word. He hears better in person; maybe he's reading lips too! 

I try to bring him something, anything, when I arrive. There was a time when candy, cashews, and cookies were welcome treats. He can no longer enjoy these snacks, sticking to  his chocolate Ensure shakes which he has stashed in his closet by the case. I bring fresh flowers, old photo albums, and recent pictures of the family instead. He expects nothing; he only wants to see me, to sit with me in his bedroom, and to share the news of our lives, however mundane. Many times there are awkward silences when neither of us has anything to say. I'll stand up, straighten the bank of photographs on his wall above the bed or grab his 5 pound weights and do a mini-workout which always amuses him.

Today I brought him a large photo album (see above). I brought  myself a totally tangled up mess of a wind chime that begged to be untangled. I told Dad I'd sit with him and work on the wind chime. He asked for the album. Both of us concentrated intently on the tasks at hand and suddenly 30 minutes passed. After a few updates from him on the antics of his 5 roommates, my news, and a brief review of the remainder of the week, I was ready to head home for dinner.

Dad so appreciates the company even though our visits are brief. The smile on his face, the brightness in his eyes when he looks up to recognize me walking through the doorway feels priceless. I'm reminded of the utter joy on the faces of my young children when I'd walk through the front door after my long day at work and their long day with the nanny or at school. The big difference is that life is all ahead for children and almost finished for my Dad. I think about that every time I see him and especially when I kiss him goodbye.

He's a very, very good man and I'm proud to be his daughter.