Oh, I didn't realize it's been an entire week since I've written! Everything here has been pretty calm with Tom. With Cynthia coming again a couple times a week, he's starting to confuse us. He asks questions like, "I know I've asked you this before, but how many kids do you have?" To this I always just stare wide-eyed at Carol until she starts laughing and tells him I'm not even thinking about having kids. He also asks me how "the ol' boy" is. I ask who this is and he asks, "aren't you married?" This question I can answer by myself, although not with much different of an answer. Then he asks me (while drinking those little treasured 7.5 fl oz Cokes I buy him) "So, how many people like us do you see?" "Grandpa," I say,"I'm your Granddaughter. Jeanne's daughter." He starts defensive back-treading, "Yea, I know that," he snaps. As far as the new depression medication he's on, I don't know yet. On Saturday I made lunch for him (Carol has been refusing meals lately, but not neglecting the candy/cookie drawer) he calmly said, "How long will you be staying with us?" I say my usual answer, "until you kick me out." "No," he says without a smile, "how long? A week?" I say that no, I was going to be here for another few months to a year. "That's not going to work out," he says. This strikes me as odd. Right as I'm starting to get a grip on him lashing out at me for challenging his control on the house, he decides to have the conversation out of the blue as he eats the tomato sandwich I made for him. Like we are discussing what to have for dinner, or where Tobey might have been hiding. "Why do you want me to leave? I do my share around the house. I buy groceries. Mostly all I do is read and watch TV in my room." "I don't really know. Who said you could stay?" These questions hover in the air as I try to grasp the logical answer to them, "You did." "Well, I must not have realized that was how long you were going to stay." I look perplexed as he adds more salt and pepper to the world's spiciest sandwich on white bread. "Where should I go if I must be out in a week," I want to know. "You're leaving this week?" He asks alarmed all of a sudden "You just said you wanted me to leave in a week and that I can't stay here for months." "No, you can stay as long as you want. That's not a problem. Who said you couldn't stay?" And suddenly I feel like the crazy one.
I know he still gets mad at Carol though. Two nights ago I was in the laundry room/hallway and I could hear him yelling at her. She went to the bathroom to cry when she saw me. I talked to her for about a half hour, while standing there with my folded clothes in my arm. I'm not sure where what I said to here came from, but it sounded more like what my mom has been coaching me. "You can't take it personally. If you need to get away for a while, you can do that." We talked about her going to visit Bill, "We can go, just us girls and go see William. Cynthia can make sure Grandpa is alright for a few days." Knowing that his was an option seemed to be reassuring. She's been having these panic attacks at night, like tonight with thinking she got the wrong year for the tabs and if she didn't figure it out at 9pm that Tom would find out and get mad at her. She's also hasn't been very good with her medicine. She'll do her patch alright, then wont take her pill, but still write that she did on the calendar. When I finally switch from say things like, I think you should take the pills (which usually works) to more recently just saying, "I am 100% sure you did not take your medicine, and I know you'll be happier if you take them now." The other day she practically stomped off to her room and came back in and said, "Do you see them, they're on my tongue." I almost laughed, she looked about 5 years old with her tongue stuck out as far as possible. "I'm not a doctor. I'm a concerned Granddaughter who loves you too much to let you be miserable tomorrow." She doesn't take long to forgive me for having to take the 23-year-old-knows-best approach.
That's about it. Most days I go to work before anyone wakes up. When I get home I make dinner and they claim to have already had a big dinner, but throughout the night they pick at what I made. I don't get into argument's with Grandpa. When he eats out of the ice cream container, I mark a big "T" on it, and move on. When he acts rude or ungrateful, I treat him the way I did with rude guests waitressing, over-the-top-kindness (very passive aggressive, I know). And, just about every night I play therapist by talking Carol through whatever problem she's worried about. i.e. "I just knew I bough coffee the other day but it's gone", or the old stand by, "I didn't take his license but he thinks I did!" Then the day ends and we start over.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
MONDAY, AUGUST 23, 2010
Today has been a little odd. When I got home Carol was in the kitchen and was a little defensive. I was quietly checking to see if there were new additions to Tom's medicine, when she asked me what I was doing. I just said I was checking to see if he took hid medicine and she told me in a very matter-of-fact tone that the calendar said he took them, so he took them. I asked her if she'd eaten and she informed me they had already eaten plenty. This doesn't sound like much, but considering she's usually over-the-top gracious when I get home, it's a little weird. I put out some food and go to the gym. When I get back I sit at the kitchen table reading and eating. Usually by this time Grandpa is long gone watching TV and Carol is in her pajamas, occasionally going into the kitchen to shut screens and eat ice cream. But, here they are in the kitchen with me. Then they are in the hallway arguing about the tiki hut (someone called earlier to say he would come by and fix it up because it looked like it needed it last time he was here... whenever that was? Tom and Carol seemed to know him). Carol says it needs to be done because it is "leaking like sieve," but Grandpa counters that he goes down there everyday and it's just fine. I don't say my opinion, which is that everything in there is so weather torn that as long as the structure is standing, I'm probably not hiding their in a hurricane anyway. Then Grandpa comes in looking for something to eat, "is this your aaacctiiiveeea?" "Yes," I say. "What is it?" "It's yogurt, like really creamy strawberry ice cream. Help yourself." I hold my tongue while he opens it by stabbing it with a fork repeatedly, then takes it to his room without any utensil at all. He comes back later, I presume for a spoon, but he opens the fridge, shuts it, looks at the picture of Jim on it and asks, "do you know my son?" I say yes, silently begging him not to ask me any more questions. This is enough for him. He nods and turns back to his room empty handed. I hear some arguing, but I don't know what about. Then Carol comes in and asks me what book I'm reading. She thinks this is wonderful. She turns around and walks away. A little while later I hear doors opening and shutting. Grandpa calls out on both porches for Carol. He comes in asking if I've seen her. I say I saw her about 15 minutes ago, and I thought she headed back to their room. He's not so sure. Something "stinks." He continues to look for her, and says he's going to call the police, after all, he says, "she never disappears. We didn't get into any augment. We NEVER argue. I don't know what this is all about." I help him look. but it doesn't take me long. She's in the office smoking a cigarette. I ask her if she's OK and she says she's not. I tell her that Tom is worried about her. She says she has to compose herself before going out. I somehow convince Grandpa that we should give it a full half-hour before alerting the authorities. She comes out about ten minutes later, and instead of being relieved, Grandpa is accusatory. "Where were you." "In the little bedroom." "No you were not." "Well, yes, I was." "Something stinks." He sits muttering swear words to himself under his breath. When it gets loud enough that I hear him say "bullshit" clearly, I ask if he's OK. "None of your god-damn business," of course. Alright, now he's ready to go to bed. Is Carol coming? No, she says she's not ready. This clearly does not please him but she's just fine eating ice cream in the kitchen. Very strange.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
SATURDAY, AUGUST 21, 2010
For those of you (my family) who read that comment that random girl wrote on my last blog, I don"t know. I'm trying to keep my family informed about what"s going on down here, but I guess people are angry and need an outlet by mocking people.
Grandpa just told me to pack my bags and be gone in the morning. Why? Because I tried to get him a bowl for the ice cream because he was eating out of the container that was half full. He said he bought it and he could do whatever he pleases. I told him that I bought the ice cream. He asked how much it was, and I said I didn't mind buying ice cream for the three of us, as long as I could have some also. He said it was his house, and I said that I was living here and can he please just use a bowl so that I could have some later. This is where he really started getting angry. This is aparently not my home and I need to mind my own business. I told him I was granddaughter and can he at least not yell at me. This just set him off. "I don't care," he says, "get out of my house." Please keep the imagery in mind of my 78 (79 tomorrow) year old grandfather yelling at me that he doesn't need me telling him what to do, while he's standing in the kitchen in his white boxers.
After two bites of ice cream, he puts the carton back in the freezer, puts the spoon in the sink, turns on the water and leaves without shutting it off. I go to my room so Carol doesn't see that I'm upset by him yelling at me. Two minutes later I hear him come back in the kitchen, tell Carol that he's hungry but doesn't know what he wants. He opens the freezer and I can hear Carol ask him to put it in a bowl so everyone else can have some. He says, "I bought it so I can eat however I want." Carol wisely doesn't push the subject. I should have known not to even say anything, because Carol has been avoiding him all night and last night, telling me that he's starting in on her with everything, and she doesn't really want to talk about it. He's going to the doctor on Monday.
Carol is doing really well with taking her medicine (actually), but the bottle of wine I bought on Tuesday is half gone, and I haven't had any. She hasn't been crying that I know of, we've all just been trying to tip-toe around him. Sometimes he comes and asks me where Carol is and neither of us know. For example, right now at 7pm at night she is walking around the yard pulling down dead tree branches. He gets concerned when she's not in the room watching TV with her.
There has been some good times in the last couple days, though. In the morning when he's around we are fine, but his grasp on what we've talked about isn't as good as at night. Last night he asked me what I had planned, and I said that me and him were gonna go do some shots of tequila, which he got a kick out of. Then I told him I was going to kick-boxing class and showed him some of my moves. He told me I would get knocked out if I went up against anyone, then smiled, shook his head and went into his room.
Grandpa just told me to pack my bags and be gone in the morning. Why? Because I tried to get him a bowl for the ice cream because he was eating out of the container that was half full. He said he bought it and he could do whatever he pleases. I told him that I bought the ice cream. He asked how much it was, and I said I didn't mind buying ice cream for the three of us, as long as I could have some also. He said it was his house, and I said that I was living here and can he please just use a bowl so that I could have some later. This is where he really started getting angry. This is aparently not my home and I need to mind my own business. I told him I was granddaughter and can he at least not yell at me. This just set him off. "I don't care," he says, "get out of my house." Please keep the imagery in mind of my 78 (79 tomorrow) year old grandfather yelling at me that he doesn't need me telling him what to do, while he's standing in the kitchen in his white boxers.
After two bites of ice cream, he puts the carton back in the freezer, puts the spoon in the sink, turns on the water and leaves without shutting it off. I go to my room so Carol doesn't see that I'm upset by him yelling at me. Two minutes later I hear him come back in the kitchen, tell Carol that he's hungry but doesn't know what he wants. He opens the freezer and I can hear Carol ask him to put it in a bowl so everyone else can have some. He says, "I bought it so I can eat however I want." Carol wisely doesn't push the subject. I should have known not to even say anything, because Carol has been avoiding him all night and last night, telling me that he's starting in on her with everything, and she doesn't really want to talk about it. He's going to the doctor on Monday.
Carol is doing really well with taking her medicine (actually), but the bottle of wine I bought on Tuesday is half gone, and I haven't had any. She hasn't been crying that I know of, we've all just been trying to tip-toe around him. Sometimes he comes and asks me where Carol is and neither of us know. For example, right now at 7pm at night she is walking around the yard pulling down dead tree branches. He gets concerned when she's not in the room watching TV with her.
There has been some good times in the last couple days, though. In the morning when he's around we are fine, but his grasp on what we've talked about isn't as good as at night. Last night he asked me what I had planned, and I said that me and him were gonna go do some shots of tequila, which he got a kick out of. Then I told him I was going to kick-boxing class and showed him some of my moves. He told me I would get knocked out if I went up against anyone, then smiled, shook his head and went into his room.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
TUESDAY, AUGUST 17, 2010
Tom's grievances against me today (in order):
-Talking too quietly
-Asking him if he wants some of the dinner I'm making, when he has already eaten (the only thing gone from the fridge appears to be doughnuts and the strawberries he was eating while I was making dinner)
-Telling him doughnuts don't count as dinner
-Asking him if he'd like me to cut his strawberries for him (he's "not a child")
-Still talking too quietly
-Offering him a beverage while I'm getting myself one
-Scooting my chair in too loudly
-Handing him his shot glass of medicine (per usual) instead of his preferred method tonight, dumping them in his hand
Tom's grievances against MauMau today (In order)
-Running away from him when he went to pet him
-Trying to get up on the counter to drink his milk
-Not coming to his chair and sitting in his lap when asked
-Getting into a fight with Toby
Tom's grievances against Carol today (the only one I witnessed)
-Not knowing where Toby was, and then when found...
-...letting him get into a fight with MauMau
-Talking too quietly
-Asking him if he wants some of the dinner I'm making, when he has already eaten (the only thing gone from the fridge appears to be doughnuts and the strawberries he was eating while I was making dinner)
-Telling him doughnuts don't count as dinner
-Asking him if he'd like me to cut his strawberries for him (he's "not a child")
-Still talking too quietly
-Offering him a beverage while I'm getting myself one
-Scooting my chair in too loudly
-Handing him his shot glass of medicine (per usual) instead of his preferred method tonight, dumping them in his hand
Tom's grievances against MauMau today (In order)
-Running away from him when he went to pet him
-Trying to get up on the counter to drink his milk
-Not coming to his chair and sitting in his lap when asked
-Getting into a fight with Toby
Tom's grievances against Carol today (the only one I witnessed)
-Not knowing where Toby was, and then when found...
-...letting him get into a fight with MauMau
Monday, August 16, 2010
SUNDAY UPDATE/SATURDAY, AUGUST 16, 2010
I posted my blog too early yesterday. So, here's what happened, in case you haven't heard. If we remember that yesterday both I and Grandpa went grocery shopping. I had gone when it was raining out, so my car was parked with the trunk closest to the garage. Grandpa came in to my room (without knocking or asking of course) and wanted me to move my car because he had to go to the grocery store... I told him I was on the phone, but I'd be out soon. He must not have believed me or remembered I said I'd be done soon, because he came in two more times in 5 minutes. I finally obliged and came out. Part one of the argument: he's mad at me for parking how I did, I'm asking him what he's going to the grocery store for because between the two of us we probably already got it today. Part two of the argument: He's telling me it's non of my "god-damn business what he's getting" and I'm asking him to stop swearing at me. That I'm trying to save him a trip if he's going to get something we already have (I don't think he even remembered what he was going to get). Part three of the argument: He's got his face a foot away from mine and is sticking his keys in my face yelling and swearing at me to move my car. I tell him I don't want to move my car if he's going to treat me that way and tell him to come inside when he's figured out a way to talk to me without swearing at me. Part four? I go inside and hear him start his car engine. I come out to see him moving my car with his car. I smack the side of his car to get him to stop. I go to move my car and when I get out I hit the side of his car again to get him to stop his car. He rolls down his driver's side window so I go around the front of his car to talk to him, but he puts it in drive and starts driving AT ME looking more angry then I've ever seen ANYONE...Until I storm inside the house and realize I'm screaming, no screeching. I hear myself, but it sounds like someone completely different. I actually catch myself thinking, "who is that woman continuously screeching 'HE TRIED TO RUN ME OVER!!!! HE TRIED TO RUN ME OVER!!! MY GRANDPA JUST AIMED HIS CAR AT ME WITH THE INTENTION OF HITTING ME!!'?" I call my Mom, but he's decided against the store and is following me around asking me what my problem is and asking to speak to her. When he gets on the phone with her he is laughing saying I've gone nuts and can she please come pick me up. I'm crying, beyond frustrated. He doesn't remember what he did, and he's LAUGHING to my mom AT ME. I take the phone in my room and he wont let me shut the door. I tell him to leave, but it's apparently his house and I can get the hell out. I try to leave my room then, but he's blocking it. Telling me I'm an idiot. Telling me to leave. Finally I get the door shut and locked and Bill calls him on their phone to lure him away from yelling at me from outside my door. Within fifteen minutes he is in his room watching TV.
I go to talk to the police to file a report, but it isn't very satisfying. He says he could take my Grandpa to jail, but neither of us wants that. He says filing a report is useless, unless I want to submit it to car insurance for the almost non existent scratches on my rear bumper. He wants to know why my grandpa even has a car and keys. Why would I put people in danger by giving him these resources. He says it's a civil dispute, and since he doesn't know if I was just saying all this to take advantage of my grandfather, he can't do much. He says since my grandpa didn't put his hands on me or Carol, that any action would probably by unnecessary. I'm just supposed to keep a record of it for lawyers to use as evidence that he isn't able to make rational decisions later. Then the police officer tells me a lovely story about how they finally decided his grandma should go to an assisted living community after she pulled a knife on his aunt. Oh, and do I know if my grandpa has access to any weapons? I sleep with my bedroom door locked and barely sleep, every time Carol comes to the kitchen for a late night snack, I'm sure it's Grandpa getting a knife. I know this is irrational.
When I went to work this morning Carol is up, but not Grandpa. When I get home from work they are just putting out left over chicken from last night. I go to my room to change and I can hear Carol telling Grandpa that I'm home from work, "whoopee," he says. My hands are shaking despite myself when I come into the kitchen to make some vegetables to go with the chicken they are eating. Since Grandpa was asking me the normal questions he asks about every afternoon, "Where did you go? Is your Ma/Bill coming down?", I decide it's OK to sit at the place setting Carol has set for me. He doesn't seem to remember at all. Besides only talking to politely respond to questions, I'm silent. After dinner I hand him his medicine where he is sitting with 2 cigarettes un-lit in his lap one lit in his mouth. He sets it to the side and I go to my room. When I come out in an hour I can't find the shot glass we put his medicine in. Me and Carol look everywhere, and finally it's found inside the pack his cigarette packs come in (does this make sense?). "He hid his medicine," I say to Carol, "No," she defends, "he just didn't know where it went." I want to believe in her sweetness, but I doubt he accidental shoved his un-taken pills in the back of a cigarette carton. I don't want to risk him yelling at me, so I ask Carol to bring him water and his medicine. I wait quietly at the door to their room as she has him take it. She comes back to the door to hand me the empty shot glass, and he notices me. "Now, what the hell is going on." I wasn't expecting this response, so I run away as I hear Carol explaining that I wanted to make sure my Grandpa was healthy so I...
I go to talk to the police to file a report, but it isn't very satisfying. He says he could take my Grandpa to jail, but neither of us wants that. He says filing a report is useless, unless I want to submit it to car insurance for the almost non existent scratches on my rear bumper. He wants to know why my grandpa even has a car and keys. Why would I put people in danger by giving him these resources. He says it's a civil dispute, and since he doesn't know if I was just saying all this to take advantage of my grandfather, he can't do much. He says since my grandpa didn't put his hands on me or Carol, that any action would probably by unnecessary. I'm just supposed to keep a record of it for lawyers to use as evidence that he isn't able to make rational decisions later. Then the police officer tells me a lovely story about how they finally decided his grandma should go to an assisted living community after she pulled a knife on his aunt. Oh, and do I know if my grandpa has access to any weapons? I sleep with my bedroom door locked and barely sleep, every time Carol comes to the kitchen for a late night snack, I'm sure it's Grandpa getting a knife. I know this is irrational.
When I went to work this morning Carol is up, but not Grandpa. When I get home from work they are just putting out left over chicken from last night. I go to my room to change and I can hear Carol telling Grandpa that I'm home from work, "whoopee," he says. My hands are shaking despite myself when I come into the kitchen to make some vegetables to go with the chicken they are eating. Since Grandpa was asking me the normal questions he asks about every afternoon, "Where did you go? Is your Ma/Bill coming down?", I decide it's OK to sit at the place setting Carol has set for me. He doesn't seem to remember at all. Besides only talking to politely respond to questions, I'm silent. After dinner I hand him his medicine where he is sitting with 2 cigarettes un-lit in his lap one lit in his mouth. He sets it to the side and I go to my room. When I come out in an hour I can't find the shot glass we put his medicine in. Me and Carol look everywhere, and finally it's found inside the pack his cigarette packs come in (does this make sense?). "He hid his medicine," I say to Carol, "No," she defends, "he just didn't know where it went." I want to believe in her sweetness, but I doubt he accidental shoved his un-taken pills in the back of a cigarette carton. I don't want to risk him yelling at me, so I ask Carol to bring him water and his medicine. I wait quietly at the door to their room as she has him take it. She comes back to the door to hand me the empty shot glass, and he notices me. "Now, what the hell is going on." I wasn't expecting this response, so I run away as I hear Carol explaining that I wanted to make sure my Grandpa was healthy so I...
Sunday, August 15, 2010
SATURDAY/SUNDAY, AUGUST 14/15, 2010
Grandpa has taught me my new favorite phrase, "writing on the wall." We've been having these ten minute long conversations about how homesick I am and how my friends/boyfriend are doing stuff that makes me feel like a ghost. This is when Grandpa smiles and offers his only wisdom that may stick with me, "writing on the wall". For those who don't have interest in the melodrama of a socialite turned homebody, this is a record of how lucid Grandpa can be at the end of the day by having a semi-real conversation with him. The mornings are much worse because it's still, "What is your plan? How long are you staying? Did you know we built/planted everything on this lot? Is my daughter/Bill coming down, do you know? Jeez, someone needs to trim those trees." Then the conversation starts all over again. I'm not saying he doesn't act like a jerk 80% of the time anymore. Just today I went to get groceries after volunteering, and a monsoon started while I was in Publix. It was the type of rain that you have to pull over your car because your windshield wipers can't keep up when your going 15 miles per hour when they're at top speed. When I got home and was bringing the last bit in, completely sopping from head to toe, Grandpa was sitting in the kitchen glaring at me--not lifting a finger to help--just glaring. "What's wrong?" I ask. "What is this?" "Groceries... for us to eat..." "ooookkk." I tell him that the proper response is "thank you," thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm stupidly trying to get him to realize that snapping at someone isn't a proper response to thoughtful actions from others, we are working on this, although usually Carol makes up for it. He spends the entire time I'm putting away groceries asking me if I left any food there, talking about how wonderful the storm is. "Have you been out today?" (I'm still sopping wet) and asking me to hand him things as I take them out. Yesterday I was beginning to think that Grandpa was doing loads better, but then he put a dirty pan away in the oven (mad/embarrassed/flustered: "I thought you might need it again soon.") and when I left at 10pm last night, the garage was open, the lights were on, and he was in there in JUST HIS BOXERS looking for his keys. I asked, "you usually keep them in your pants, did you leave them in a pair of pants?" "I checked!" he snaps. "OK, well I can help you look for them tomorrow, but it's late at night, and you don't need them right now." He seemed satisfied with this answer, and today he obviously had his keys because they went to get groceries, yea, while I was volunteering and before I got groceries they got some. I swear.
As far as Carol goes, she is on top of her game. Hasn't come crying to me, but I've been gone a lot, and taking her medicine by herself. In fact, she's great at documenting it too. She'll leave the empty package with the old patch stuck to it with the date and time, so I can see that she did. I'm completely shocked.
Sorry I haven't been writing a lot lately. I've found if I'm forced to be in front of a computer for 8 hours a day, you tend to want a break.
As far as Carol goes, she is on top of her game. Hasn't come crying to me, but I've been gone a lot, and taking her medicine by herself. In fact, she's great at documenting it too. She'll leave the empty package with the old patch stuck to it with the date and time, so I can see that she did. I'm completely shocked.
Sorry I haven't been writing a lot lately. I've found if I'm forced to be in front of a computer for 8 hours a day, you tend to want a break.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
TUESDAY/WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 10/11, 2010
Yesterday when I got home from work Grandpa and Carol had already eaten a dinner of breakfast sausages and grapes (presumably) and Carol had not only took her medicine, but gave Grandpa his medicine. Which, was good because I was a little strung out. I ordered a credit card to be sent to here, and have been living on checks for most the time I've been here. I had forgot to bring lunch to work, had no gas to get home and only about 5 dollars in change in my car. This lead to me working though lunch and only fueling myself on water. I don't know how I do this to myself. Apparently they sent the credit card I ordered to my old place in Minneapolis even though they had me jump through hoops to send it here. I'm not going to get into my never-ending battle with US Bank, let's just say I was happy that the grandparents had everything under control, sort of. When I expressed my financial concern to Carol she started asking if I thought maybe the people who had been stealing her mail out of the mailbox stole mine. They she started going on how it shouldn't have been held with her mail at the post office, but if I had time to go to the post office the next day we could check. I explained to her the situation, which was kind of heartbreaking because you hate to correct someone who is trying to help. Then Grandpa started going on about how he was going to see Bob tomorrow (his doctor). Carol asked if he had an appointment because nothing was on the calendar. He said he was just going to drive to his house. I asked him what was wrong that he wanted to go see the doctor. I knew the answer he was going to give me was, "well, it's none of your business, is it?," but I thought it was worth asking.
He didn't go today according to them. I guess it was too hot to go outside at all. There were pork chops thawing next to the sink when I got home, and for this i was truly thankful. I set to work making them, but soon Grandpa came in asking me to move my car. It was parked behind Carol so I asked why. "I want to move Carol's car out of the garage." I'm torn between wanting to continue to make dinner, spend time relaxing and the desperate need to know if he really did find Carol's keys. I get my keys out to move my car, when Grandpa goes, "Now, wait, where did they go." Carol looks at the contents of his pockets in his hand and says that they are right there, but it's another pair of Grandpa's keys. False alarm. Grandpa asks if I can move it anyway, and my exasperation with him got the better of me-"I'm in the middle of making dinner, and I just got home from work-do you think it could possibly wait?" Carol didn't help Grandpa with his medicine today, but she was once again on top of her pills.
He didn't go today according to them. I guess it was too hot to go outside at all. There were pork chops thawing next to the sink when I got home, and for this i was truly thankful. I set to work making them, but soon Grandpa came in asking me to move my car. It was parked behind Carol so I asked why. "I want to move Carol's car out of the garage." I'm torn between wanting to continue to make dinner, spend time relaxing and the desperate need to know if he really did find Carol's keys. I get my keys out to move my car, when Grandpa goes, "Now, wait, where did they go." Carol looks at the contents of his pockets in his hand and says that they are right there, but it's another pair of Grandpa's keys. False alarm. Grandpa asks if I can move it anyway, and my exasperation with him got the better of me-"I'm in the middle of making dinner, and I just got home from work-do you think it could possibly wait?" Carol didn't help Grandpa with his medicine today, but she was once again on top of her pills.
Monday, August 9, 2010
MONDAY, AUGUST 9, 2010
Today I woke up at 7:25 (5 minutes) before my alarm goes off (my alarm being my father calling me). I eat some breakfast, chat with Carol and get ready. When I leave for work at 8:30, I'm almost mad at Grandpa for being asleep when he's constantly giving me crap for not waking up at 7 every morning like him.
I'm afraid at work that I will be found out for what I might be. Like, I wore my glasses to the interview, what if now that I don't have glasses they will suddenly realize I'm a fake. Could I possibly be their new SEM Marketing Specialists? Side note, this technically makes me a Search Engine Marketing Marketing Specialist, which seems redundant, but would look beautiful in stationary.
I spend the morning with the head of marketing learning the ropes and taking the tour. Then, for lunch I was taken out by some CEO's. I don't think I breathed the whole meal. What made it worse was that I ordered Cesare salad that was the fishiest salad I'd ever eaten, and if you know me, you know how awesome this is. I play off eating only half the salad (mostly the chicken while choking down the fishy lettuce) by proclaiming that living with my grandparents has made it impossible to eat a full meal. So, I was hungry when I started my first project, but someone had left me peanut m&m's-everyone here is REALLY nice. Is this southern hospitality?
I spent the end of my day re-designing their Comcast specials website, which we will launch and track with all these special tools. How should I decorate my cubicle.
When I got home Carol said they had already eaten so I set to work putting all the new pills in Grandpa's container to make sure he got them before he went to bed. He watches me suspiciously. "Are those mine?" "Yes." "Did you pay for them?" "No." "Who did?" "My mom." Oh, and is this a big deal. HE doesn't need hand outs. HE has been doing just fine without ANYONE's help. Then he goes to the fridge to take out the plate of dinner Carol put aside for him--pineapple and a Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich in the plastic wrapping. He then proceeds to the microwave to put the whole thing (plastic and un-microwavable plate and all) in to heat up. I wanted to let it go after the don't-help-me speech, but I couldn't let it happen.
I need to go to bed.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 8 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: My first day at work
Daily lesson: I can pass as an adult?
I'm afraid at work that I will be found out for what I might be. Like, I wore my glasses to the interview, what if now that I don't have glasses they will suddenly realize I'm a fake. Could I possibly be their new SEM Marketing Specialists? Side note, this technically makes me a Search Engine Marketing Marketing Specialist, which seems redundant, but would look beautiful in stationary.
I spend the morning with the head of marketing learning the ropes and taking the tour. Then, for lunch I was taken out by some CEO's. I don't think I breathed the whole meal. What made it worse was that I ordered Cesare salad that was the fishiest salad I'd ever eaten, and if you know me, you know how awesome this is. I play off eating only half the salad (mostly the chicken while choking down the fishy lettuce) by proclaiming that living with my grandparents has made it impossible to eat a full meal. So, I was hungry when I started my first project, but someone had left me peanut m&m's-everyone here is REALLY nice. Is this southern hospitality?
I spent the end of my day re-designing their Comcast specials website, which we will launch and track with all these special tools. How should I decorate my cubicle.
When I got home Carol said they had already eaten so I set to work putting all the new pills in Grandpa's container to make sure he got them before he went to bed. He watches me suspiciously. "Are those mine?" "Yes." "Did you pay for them?" "No." "Who did?" "My mom." Oh, and is this a big deal. HE doesn't need hand outs. HE has been doing just fine without ANYONE's help. Then he goes to the fridge to take out the plate of dinner Carol put aside for him--pineapple and a Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich in the plastic wrapping. He then proceeds to the microwave to put the whole thing (plastic and un-microwavable plate and all) in to heat up. I wanted to let it go after the don't-help-me speech, but I couldn't let it happen.
I need to go to bed.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 8 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: My first day at work
Daily lesson: I can pass as an adult?
Sunday, August 8, 2010
SATURDAY/SUNDAY, AUGUST 7/8, 2010
Harriet the Spy here, sorry I didn't write last night. I'll start with yesterday. After my usual morning interrogation, I was off to Petco to volunteer for the Humane Society. About an hour before I leave there I get a message from Bill saying Grandpa called asking when he was coming down and that Carol wasn't OK, but wouldn't say why. When I get home I ask them separately if they're OK. Carol says she is fine except she can't find her keys. She says this in a very matter-of-fact tone. I ask Grandpa how everything is and he gives me his ol' "I've lived here for 15 years and everything has always been great so don't worry about us." He doesn't ever say this in a tone you would associate with a "T.V. Grandpa," like, "for your sake granddaughter, don't worry. I appreciate your concern, but you must go live your life." No, the tone is more like, "I'm pretty sure you are a spy and I don't need you or anyone so will you mind your own business and get out of my face." I back off, but for some god-awful reason I just have to make sure. "I was just asking because you called Bill about an hour ago saying that something is wrong." "Bill said something was wrong?" "No, you told him something was wrong." "When" "About an hour ago." "Well, I can't think of anything wrong. You told Bill something was wrong?" "No, you told him something was wrong." "No, we've been living here for fifteen years...." "OK, so nothing is wrong, fine." [pause] "So, Bill is coming down?"
Me and Carol go to Walmart to get their medicine, which is difficult because 1. They only filled Carol's prescription, 2. Despite being able to use my mother's credit card for Carol's medicine, they wont for Grandpa's 3. Carol almost starts crying b/c one of Grandpa's medicine is over $100 and 4. I have no idea what Grandpa's 5th pill is (found out it is baby Aspirin.)
We get home and when I come out later to make dinner, Grandpa is sitting in the kitchen in his boxers. "IT"S FINE," he says to my adverse reaction. I march back into my room, grab my purse and go out to buy tennis shoes.
This morning I made Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches for everyone which is a BIG HIT. I'm also psyched because when Grandpa inevitably asks me what my plan for today is I have an answer. When he asks if I'm going to get a job I say, I've been offered one and I start tomorrow. When he asks if I'm going to move to Vero Beach I say, "and leave you? No, I couldn't possibly." He smiles, shakes his head and goes to his room to watch T.V. I'm rushing out the door when Carol asks me to help her with her patch and medicine. I notice despite insisting she took her medicine yesterday, she didn't. She explains that it's the wrong Saturday that I'm looking at, but no, once again, there are roughly no more days of pills left and she most definitely did not take her medicine yesterday. We get her set up for today, but I remind her that she might be on edge today.
When I get back from volunteering, I'm still on a fluffy kitten infused high. We have burgers and snap peas and they have a surprisingly matter of fact conversation about her keys. Grandpa says he has his keys but couldn't find the ones to the "little Ford." Carol corrects him that hers is a Crystler and that it's not worth worrying about her keys-"They'll show up." "Alright." I sit watching them in awe. Grandpa announces that the TV has been down because of the storm all day. Despite not turning on my T.V. all day, I lie because I'm 99% sure this isn't true-"Mine has been working all day, do you mind if I take a look." Here's the problem that plagues Grandpa about 4 times a week. Somehow the input is changed from T.V. 4 and he gives up on it. I write a little post it on the T.V. saying this and go tell Grandpa. The mistake is approaching it like this, "Hey, Grandpa I got it figured out, you accidentally changed the T.V. Input, but it's just fine now!" Response? "I haven't TOUCHED the damn thing." "OK.... SOMEONE changed the input." "Alright, fine." I stand there looking at him. "What," he says. "Normally when you do a favor for someone they show gratitude, or at least don't snap at them about it." He looks at Carol confused and she tells him to say "Thank you." He does grudgingly.
To sum up--
Weekend sanity level of house: 8 (out of 10)
Erika's weekend activity away from house: Volunteering for the Humane Society and shopping.
Weekend lesson: Stay positive, and make breakfast sandwiches
Me and Carol go to Walmart to get their medicine, which is difficult because 1. They only filled Carol's prescription, 2. Despite being able to use my mother's credit card for Carol's medicine, they wont for Grandpa's 3. Carol almost starts crying b/c one of Grandpa's medicine is over $100 and 4. I have no idea what Grandpa's 5th pill is (found out it is baby Aspirin.)
We get home and when I come out later to make dinner, Grandpa is sitting in the kitchen in his boxers. "IT"S FINE," he says to my adverse reaction. I march back into my room, grab my purse and go out to buy tennis shoes.
This morning I made Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches for everyone which is a BIG HIT. I'm also psyched because when Grandpa inevitably asks me what my plan for today is I have an answer. When he asks if I'm going to get a job I say, I've been offered one and I start tomorrow. When he asks if I'm going to move to Vero Beach I say, "and leave you? No, I couldn't possibly." He smiles, shakes his head and goes to his room to watch T.V. I'm rushing out the door when Carol asks me to help her with her patch and medicine. I notice despite insisting she took her medicine yesterday, she didn't. She explains that it's the wrong Saturday that I'm looking at, but no, once again, there are roughly no more days of pills left and she most definitely did not take her medicine yesterday. We get her set up for today, but I remind her that she might be on edge today.
When I get back from volunteering, I'm still on a fluffy kitten infused high. We have burgers and snap peas and they have a surprisingly matter of fact conversation about her keys. Grandpa says he has his keys but couldn't find the ones to the "little Ford." Carol corrects him that hers is a Crystler and that it's not worth worrying about her keys-"They'll show up." "Alright." I sit watching them in awe. Grandpa announces that the TV has been down because of the storm all day. Despite not turning on my T.V. all day, I lie because I'm 99% sure this isn't true-"Mine has been working all day, do you mind if I take a look." Here's the problem that plagues Grandpa about 4 times a week. Somehow the input is changed from T.V. 4 and he gives up on it. I write a little post it on the T.V. saying this and go tell Grandpa. The mistake is approaching it like this, "Hey, Grandpa I got it figured out, you accidentally changed the T.V. Input, but it's just fine now!" Response? "I haven't TOUCHED the damn thing." "OK.... SOMEONE changed the input." "Alright, fine." I stand there looking at him. "What," he says. "Normally when you do a favor for someone they show gratitude, or at least don't snap at them about it." He looks at Carol confused and she tells him to say "Thank you." He does grudgingly.
To sum up--
Weekend sanity level of house: 8 (out of 10)
Erika's weekend activity away from house: Volunteering for the Humane Society and shopping.
Weekend lesson: Stay positive, and make breakfast sandwiches
Friday, August 6, 2010
FRIDAY, AUGUST 6, 2010
I was unsure how this morning would go, but it went fine. I asked grandpa if he wanted breakfast, he said he was hungry, but when I said I was going to maybe make eggs, he said no. Oatmeal? No. Sausage? Toast? Cereal? Fruit? No. So Carol and I went to the grocery store. When we get back (and successfully bought every kind of cookie and doughnut) We had sandwiches. "Not much for me," Grandpa says. I can't see what he could have possibly eaten while we were gone, so I made him a full sandwich anyway. Carol wrote on the calendar that she put her patch on and took her medicine, but there wasn't a patch on her back. I told her this and she went away, and came back with a patch on her back. "See, it's here sweetie." My grandparents are pulling fast ones on me. Just to make sure I am not insane I go to see her medicine case and today's medicine was still there. I point it out to her, but she says that I was on the wrong Friday, but we are down to our last 4 days until refill, so I know this isn't true, right? Well, I hope so, because she followed my suggestion to take her medicine.
Before dinner Carol comes in to ask if I can help her with something, then I see she's crying. "What's wrong?" A flood spills out of her, "I know I had them yesterday, but he's yelling at me, I don't know where they are, I'm so sorry. This is just AWFUL."..."No," I say firmly. "There is no need for us to spend another day getting upset over keys to a car we don't ever use." I calm her down, but then Grandpa follows in. "Well they're not in the garage." "Grandpa, I know this is your house, but may I suggest that we not go crazy over this issue everyday?" The argument ensues until Carol has gone to look for them, I've started to make dinner, and Grandpa is calming down having a few hundred cigarettes. Occasionally he starts in sputtering things like, "bill shit," and "every fucking time." When he does, I stop and say things like, "Please do not swear so much around me," (Apparently that's "just the way [he] talks) and "I am not going to discuss it any further, they will show up." I get the burgers all done, only a half for grandpa and a half for Carol ("thank you"), before he announced he wasn't hungry AT ALL. What? I insist that since he watched me make dinner and that it is rude (especially since the whole time the cook had you swearing at her back) to refuse food that is made specifically for you.
At dinner we settle into a comfortable conversation, but unfortunately I'm having trouble trying to hold my tongue when he does things like passes his plate to me to clean (like every meal) without offering to help. I spend the rest of the night in my room.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 4 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: I know going to Walmart with Carol shouldn't count but I'm hoping I'll make up for it next week.
Daily lesson: If I find those keys again I am putting it on a key chain with bells and 3 feet of length and the most jarring color possible.
Before dinner Carol comes in to ask if I can help her with something, then I see she's crying. "What's wrong?" A flood spills out of her, "I know I had them yesterday, but he's yelling at me, I don't know where they are, I'm so sorry. This is just AWFUL."..."No," I say firmly. "There is no need for us to spend another day getting upset over keys to a car we don't ever use." I calm her down, but then Grandpa follows in. "Well they're not in the garage." "Grandpa, I know this is your house, but may I suggest that we not go crazy over this issue everyday?" The argument ensues until Carol has gone to look for them, I've started to make dinner, and Grandpa is calming down having a few hundred cigarettes. Occasionally he starts in sputtering things like, "bill shit," and "every fucking time." When he does, I stop and say things like, "Please do not swear so much around me," (Apparently that's "just the way [he] talks) and "I am not going to discuss it any further, they will show up." I get the burgers all done, only a half for grandpa and a half for Carol ("thank you"), before he announced he wasn't hungry AT ALL. What? I insist that since he watched me make dinner and that it is rude (especially since the whole time the cook had you swearing at her back) to refuse food that is made specifically for you.
At dinner we settle into a comfortable conversation, but unfortunately I'm having trouble trying to hold my tongue when he does things like passes his plate to me to clean (like every meal) without offering to help. I spend the rest of the night in my room.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 4 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: I know going to Walmart with Carol shouldn't count but I'm hoping I'll make up for it next week.
Daily lesson: If I find those keys again I am putting it on a key chain with bells and 3 feet of length and the most jarring color possible.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
THURSDAY, AUGUST 5, 2010
Today was going smoothly until dinner. Carol came in to the kitchen to say that she can't find her keys. I am so cool. I walk over to the container we put it in yesterday (Remember with the note that had the word "EMERGENCY" in all caps) and proudly lift up the cover to find... nothing. It's gone. We get to work tearing up the place. Grandpa comes around asking what we are doing. I don't want him yelling at her about it because he does EVERY DAY. So, I say, "please don't worry about it. We will be in the kitchen soon." He says, "No, tell me what you're looking for." Carol says through breathless sobs "MY KEYS!" So, Grandpa starts in, "Oh, Jesus. You know she does this all the time. She did this with MY keys." I am utterly exasperated, "Don't worry about it. Can you go back into the kitchen?" And, him, "This is MY house. You can get the hell out of it. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" I am seething too much to say anything else. Carol and I continue looking for a couple minutes more until I convince her it's not worth looking for when we are so frustrated. "This is just AWFUL," she says, "I'm so SORRY." "Not having your keys is not the end of the world. We should just go eat dinner." I put dinner on the table and go to find Grandpa. He is in the garage, standing up balancing on two chairs. "Dinner is ready," and then when it occurs to me that I should be concerned that a 78 year old man who has had knee surgery is standing half-hazerdly I add, "what are you doing?" "I'm trying to find those GOD DAMN KEYS, is what I'm doing." Great. They sit down to a dinner of two as I am writing a note. Carol, "Are you eating dinner?" "No, I'm not hungry." Grandpa asks if I'm leaving (yes), for good he wonders (no), but to this Carol starts crying again. Grandpa puts his hand on hers to comfort her and I have a moment of defensiveness towards her. Isn't he the reason having her keys is such a big deal? Wasn't I only trying to help her? I hand over the note that I had written for him, "Don't tell your granddaughter to leave because when you yell at her it hurts her feelings 8.5.10". I know logically this is a dumb thing to write, but I want to make my feeling more physical. I leave and promise Carol I'll be back tonight.
When I get back after reading an entire book in Borders and going to a movie, Carol comes out. she wants me to know she found her keys, but I tell her I was never mad about her keys. That I was never mad at her. She says she has to go to bed, but she wanted to make sure I got home OK. Great, she stayed up for me (she says it's the mother in her). I give her a hug and thank her for being worried.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 3 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: Borders and a movie
Daily lesson: breathe in breathe out
When I get back after reading an entire book in Borders and going to a movie, Carol comes out. she wants me to know she found her keys, but I tell her I was never mad about her keys. That I was never mad at her. She says she has to go to bed, but she wanted to make sure I got home OK. Great, she stayed up for me (she says it's the mother in her). I give her a hug and thank her for being worried.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 3 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: Borders and a movie
Daily lesson: breathe in breathe out
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 4, 2010
This morning I woke up with a sore throat. I tried to sleep in, partly dreading coming out into the kitchen and having Grandpa ask me what my agenda for the day was ("You're looking at it"), and just how long I'm planning on staying here ("Until you kick me out"). The best I could make it to was 10. I spent the day reading Eat Pray Love and introducing Grandpa to the wonderfully easy world of quesidillas ("Like grilled cheese, only with salsa instead of tomato soup"). I gave him his pills and he said that he "forgot" about these things. He told me how he rarely takes them and is thinking about stopping. Mmmmhm. Carol is weird about her medicine too. She checked off that she did her medicine and her patch before I woke up, but her patch was where it was yesterday. When I showed her that I marked on the calendar where we put it yesterday, she very carefully explained that the patch was a twenty four hour patch so we didn't need to change it yet. I have no idea how she was processing this information, but I told her I knew for a fact that we switched her patch at the same time yesterday and it's in the same spot. We switch it, and later I see that she wrote the time we switched it on the calendar as well as filled in what side of her back it should be (switching off from left to right) for each day of the next week.
A little later I get a text from Ginny informing me that Grandpa and Carol are trying to call Bill's cell phone which he left at home. I come out into the kitchen as Carol is saying to Grandpa (phone in hand), "Maybe if we can find Ginny's number she can tell us." "What are you trying to get ahold of Bill for?" I ask, "He left his cell phone at home. Can I help you with anything." I cringe as I say this because I know the response before he even says it, "STAY OUT OF IT." Calmly, "I just talked to him yesterday, so maybe I can clear whatever you need to know up. Otherwise, I'm sure he will call back when he's home from work." "Where is he?" "At work. Is this about Carol's keys." "NO, I'm trying to find out when he's going to be here." "He isn't coming down for awhile." Then, I (with more patience then I knew I had) explained that he had been confused about Bill coming down. Then I go grab a piece of paper and write the simple note "BILL HAS NO CURRENT PLANS TO COME DOWN- 8.4.10." The rest of the day he keeps pulling it out of his pocket, reading it and putting it back in his pocket while rolling his eyes.
Speaking of Bill, he sends me a text saying I should have received Carol's keys today. I look by the door, I look in the mailbox, I ask Carol. No sign of a package. Finally I locate in between the side of my bedroom door and the bookcase. Carol had written the day and time that the package was received this morning. I showed her the package and it was like she hadn't seen it yet. We opened in like it was Christmas, "Let me open it,' "Can I hold it?" "Do you wanna go try it?" Luckily the engine started! We attached a note on it saying it was for "FOR EMERGENCY USE," then stuck it in the box on the table near the door. PLEASE remember this.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 7 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: It rained this morning and by noon it was only 80 degrees. I went for a walk.
Daily lesson: Notes. Reminders. Notes.
A little later I get a text from Ginny informing me that Grandpa and Carol are trying to call Bill's cell phone which he left at home. I come out into the kitchen as Carol is saying to Grandpa (phone in hand), "Maybe if we can find Ginny's number she can tell us." "What are you trying to get ahold of Bill for?" I ask, "He left his cell phone at home. Can I help you with anything." I cringe as I say this because I know the response before he even says it, "STAY OUT OF IT." Calmly, "I just talked to him yesterday, so maybe I can clear whatever you need to know up. Otherwise, I'm sure he will call back when he's home from work." "Where is he?" "At work. Is this about Carol's keys." "NO, I'm trying to find out when he's going to be here." "He isn't coming down for awhile." Then, I (with more patience then I knew I had) explained that he had been confused about Bill coming down. Then I go grab a piece of paper and write the simple note "BILL HAS NO CURRENT PLANS TO COME DOWN- 8.4.10." The rest of the day he keeps pulling it out of his pocket, reading it and putting it back in his pocket while rolling his eyes.
Speaking of Bill, he sends me a text saying I should have received Carol's keys today. I look by the door, I look in the mailbox, I ask Carol. No sign of a package. Finally I locate in between the side of my bedroom door and the bookcase. Carol had written the day and time that the package was received this morning. I showed her the package and it was like she hadn't seen it yet. We opened in like it was Christmas, "Let me open it,' "Can I hold it?" "Do you wanna go try it?" Luckily the engine started! We attached a note on it saying it was for "FOR EMERGENCY USE," then stuck it in the box on the table near the door. PLEASE remember this.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 7 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: It rained this morning and by noon it was only 80 degrees. I went for a walk.
Daily lesson: Notes. Reminders. Notes.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
TUESDAY, AUGUST 3, 2010
Carol sometimes assures me that she can handle her medicine herself. I insist on helping her with her patch, now, but usually when I check her medicine she takes it fine (as long as I remind her to take it). So, today was one of those days she marched her medicine back to her room. A little while longer I heard her say, "Stop worrying about it," and a few other phrases that made it clear that he was yelling at her about something. I heard the garage door slam but patiently sat eating my heated up lasagna. I know at this point that Carol will come in at any minute with her purse, and like predicted there she is, looking sad as ever, hoping I will help her find her credit card and maybe her driver's license too. "We've looked in your purse a couple dozed times this week, Carol, and you have your driver's license. Did you need to go somewhere? Is Grandpa going somewhere?" No, he's actually looking for his driver's license. "I didn't take it," she keeps saying, "He keeps saying I took it, and i can't find my keys. The engine hasn't ran for awhile so it'll probably be dead and that would be just HORRIBLE!". I tell her that it's always hard for me to find something when I am frantic and upset; that worrying about everything at once is a bad idea and we need to give ourselves time to find the credit card. "But, we need to get medicine." I know for a fact they have another week and that I wrote on the calendar that we are going on Saturday. "Carol, sometimes when you get frantic like this, it means you didn't take your medicine yesterday. Can we go look?" So we find out that today and yesterday she took the cream colored pill but not the white one. I can't tell if this is because the thing she keeps them in is white and sort of blends in. I have her take the missing pill and everything is smoothed over for her. Now I go find Grandpa. "What are you looking for?" "My keys!" He snaps. "Ok, did you look in your pockets." He pulls out his keys. "Aren't those them?" "No, these are for the Ford." Well, Bill is sending the ones for her car. "When is he coming down?" So i go over the arrangement we have with Bill and the keys again. Then I go to my room to get away from the same 4 frantic questions asked everyday. Within a half hour Carol knocks on my door to announce she found her credit card in the laundry basket.
Later Grandpa finds me in the tiki hut reading and says he was making sure I was ok (?!?!). We talk about how he built everything on this property, we talk about his neighbor and his barracuda (a nickname he finds hilarious, but I don't even get when repeated for the fifth time), we talk about fishing off his deck and boats and Miami and snorkeling and his grand kids, and we also talk about me. In a strangely cinematic moment with my Grandpa, he tells me I'll figure everything out down here. Then I heat up leftover lasagna and he tells me "whatever this pile is looks good, kid."
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 6 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: Watching the Twins vs Rays game at a nearby bar but ending up talking about German expressionism with the bartender, mostly.
Daily lesson: Maybe I need a night job since all of the drama is during the day
Later Grandpa finds me in the tiki hut reading and says he was making sure I was ok (?!?!). We talk about how he built everything on this property, we talk about his neighbor and his barracuda (a nickname he finds hilarious, but I don't even get when repeated for the fifth time), we talk about fishing off his deck and boats and Miami and snorkeling and his grand kids, and we also talk about me. In a strangely cinematic moment with my Grandpa, he tells me I'll figure everything out down here. Then I heat up leftover lasagna and he tells me "whatever this pile is looks good, kid."
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 6 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: Watching the Twins vs Rays game at a nearby bar but ending up talking about German expressionism with the bartender, mostly.
Daily lesson: Maybe I need a night job since all of the drama is during the day
Monday, August 2, 2010
MONDAY, AUGUST 2, 2010
I mostly kept to myself today because MauMau didn't let me sleep more than half-hours at a time last night. After a breakfast of the grandparents fawning over my cat and me glaring at him, I decided to go to Walmart. Grandpa needed light bulbs, I wanted to read Eat Pray Love before it came out, and get a pillow top cover for my mattress which is becoming too hard to sleep on weeks in a row. There is also the matter of the sweets we bought on Saturday: the two types of cookies, the doughnuts, the KitKats, the ice cream AND the sorbet are all gone. Someone had to in intervene or we wouldn't make it through the day.
Since I was going to the grocery store anyway and I'm making dinner so much anyway, I also decided to make real recipes. This desire was spawned when I wanted french toast, but didn't really know how to make it (does the egg go at the bottom of the pan, I feel like my dad adds some other ingredient, etc.). I've been working in restaurants for so many years, I don't really know how to cook. I mean, I know how to follow a recipe and make an awesome cake (remember the eclair cake I made for Christmas last year?) but, despite Grandpa's love of Hamburger Helper, mostly I'm sad in the kitchen.
So, I made lasagna tonight, which was a huge hit except I forgot how little we eat here and made to much. I ended up having to foil up 2/3 of the pan only to find out they saved most of their stomach's for the new set of cookies. Oh, well.
There was also a nice little text conversation with Ross today where I told him my very real worry that working on cadavers will at best make him jaded about life, and worse turn him into a murderer (I've been watching a lot of History Channel). "Your views on life make my day," was his reply.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 9 (out of 10) Everyone took their medicine without question. Everyone was very kind...? Suspect.
Erika's daily activity away from house: Going to Walmart (Jesus, is that sad?)
Daily lesson: You soak the toast in the eggs and VANILLA, BEFORE cooking.
Since I was going to the grocery store anyway and I'm making dinner so much anyway, I also decided to make real recipes. This desire was spawned when I wanted french toast, but didn't really know how to make it (does the egg go at the bottom of the pan, I feel like my dad adds some other ingredient, etc.). I've been working in restaurants for so many years, I don't really know how to cook. I mean, I know how to follow a recipe and make an awesome cake (remember the eclair cake I made for Christmas last year?) but, despite Grandpa's love of Hamburger Helper, mostly I'm sad in the kitchen.
So, I made lasagna tonight, which was a huge hit except I forgot how little we eat here and made to much. I ended up having to foil up 2/3 of the pan only to find out they saved most of their stomach's for the new set of cookies. Oh, well.
There was also a nice little text conversation with Ross today where I told him my very real worry that working on cadavers will at best make him jaded about life, and worse turn him into a murderer (I've been watching a lot of History Channel). "Your views on life make my day," was his reply.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 9 (out of 10) Everyone took their medicine without question. Everyone was very kind...? Suspect.
Erika's daily activity away from house: Going to Walmart (Jesus, is that sad?)
Daily lesson: You soak the toast in the eggs and VANILLA, BEFORE cooking.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 1, 2010
Oops, I forgot yesterday. Mostly I was the insane one yesterday. The morning started off with Grandpa asking about my boyfriend and asking if he was going to come to visit. Usually I say, "I don't think he has enough money to," and he says "well send him money to come down," but, I made the mistake of saying, "Yes I think he might come this month if we can find a plane ticket cheap enough!" "Well, we don't have a lot of space around here since you moved in." "Well... you've had more than one person stay here before." "You know we have been living here for about 15 years." "I'm not sure that has anything to do with what we are talking about." "Yes, it does" [silence]. Carol walks into the room and Grandpa says, "Did you know Punky's boyfriend is coming down? How do you feel about that?" "Oh, wonderful," she says. Then I have to remind them that nothing is definite yet... and my name isn't "Punky." It was clear afterwards that he didn't realize the part where he was INSISTING I accommodate Logan to come down and instead just remembered that conversation which made it seem like I hadn't even asked. Understanding didn't make me feel any better about it.
The whole Punky thing is really getting to me because he keeps asking me who sent me. When I tell him I had asked to stay with him when I accepted a job down here, he looks a little confused. Sometimes I think he forgets I'm is granddaughter and just thinks I'm another Cynthia.
I did my laundry and didn't get to put it in the dryer in time, so Carol did. This was fine and I thanked her, but when I went to get my clothes out, a specific part of my laundry was gone. I asked Carol where it was and was directed to the porch where all my underwear was hanging for Grandpa, lawn guys and anyone who just stops by to see. I tried to explain to her that I feel really uncomfortable when even my own mother folds my laundry with underwear in it, much less this. By the end of the conversation I get the feeling that I need to be on medicine.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 8 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: Help kittens and puppies get adopted at Petco
Daily lesson: Tread lightly on subjects that may look like I'm an overbearing intruder
The whole Punky thing is really getting to me because he keeps asking me who sent me. When I tell him I had asked to stay with him when I accepted a job down here, he looks a little confused. Sometimes I think he forgets I'm is granddaughter and just thinks I'm another Cynthia.
I did my laundry and didn't get to put it in the dryer in time, so Carol did. This was fine and I thanked her, but when I went to get my clothes out, a specific part of my laundry was gone. I asked Carol where it was and was directed to the porch where all my underwear was hanging for Grandpa, lawn guys and anyone who just stops by to see. I tried to explain to her that I feel really uncomfortable when even my own mother folds my laundry with underwear in it, much less this. By the end of the conversation I get the feeling that I need to be on medicine.
To sum up--
Daily sanity level of house: 8 (out of 10)
Erika's daily activity away from house: Help kittens and puppies get adopted at Petco
Daily lesson: Tread lightly on subjects that may look like I'm an overbearing intruder
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