I am ecstatic! I have the Most Wonderful New House Cleaner In The World!

I told Isabel she didn’t have to wash windows. Today, she washed them.

I told her, ‘You don’t have to clean the cat box.’ Today, she cleaned and changed it!

She even cleared out my refrigerator!

She vacs the underside of the couch cushions. She cleans the baseboards and gets her body into the bathtub and attacks the grout.
And, she is reasonable with what she charges. Last week, I gave her double because I was so over-come with delight and delirium.

I’m almost in tears with house-happiness.

My house is spanking clean and bright. I am enraptured and enchanted by this woman. I have never, ever had such a marvelous cleaner to help me.
As you’ll recall, I do not have the house cleaning talent like several of my sisters have. It is a talent and I envy it, but most of us can’t do everything well.

“Yes!” I’m thinking. “It’s true. All the good deeds I have ever done are coming back to me now, in the body of Isabel!”

(See ‘Venus and The Dog Bones”, May 12th, 2008 for the horrifying story of when I last tried to clean my house.)
I know that many of you are concerned about me because my youngest brother Arthur erupted with a virulent leukemia several weeks ago. (See “My Brother’s Story” Aug. 2008)
Here’s what has happened, since.

Arthur is an amazing person, a deeply spiritual man with a huge heart and mighty courage. My respect for him and the way he is dealing with his ailment is large. Thanks to you and all your prayers, the saints, and all the stars and his strong will, he is doing well. He will be in the hospital for 5 weeks to 2 months but we are all hoping for a good remission or even cure. However, he is told that whatever happens, he will always need to deal with this disease the rest of his life.

He is using this extreme experience to think and brood in a productive way, over his past life and all the changes he is going to make. He plans to live differently then he has been living. He now sees life, and especially his life, in a new and positive way.
I’m at my mother’s house, intending to drive her down the mountain to see Arthur in the hospital. When I walk in the front door I look at her and my heart thumps hard.

“Oh no, Mother!” I choke out. “What’s wrong with your face!!?”

My mother’s face is bright red. Actually, she looks like the back end of a monkey’s butt, the kind of monkeys with the red rear ends.

My mom says, “Well…….. I don’t know. Skip says I don’t even look like the same woman.”
(Skip is Mom’s sort-of boyfriend. The Young One.)

“What is it?!” I gasp. “Does it hurt?”




“How long have you had this?”

“Well, Skip mentioned it, yesterday. He says I am ‘irritable.'”

I run into the back room and call my sister, Polly. She is Medical. As you may remember, all of us ‘kids’ have a different job with our mother. I am Entertainment; not Medical.

I say, “Polly, have you seen Mother’s face?! It’s alarming. Alarming.”

We both have congruent visions of Mother going down with some Horrid Disease, just like Arthur is down with a Horrid Disease.

Polly says she will be right over and slams down the phone.

When Polly arrives, I have an idea. I say to Mom,
“Mother, remember I gave you that big bottle of liquid soap the other day? Have you been using it on your face?”

She has, indeed, and she thought it was lotion! She has been slathering it on her face for two days now. And leaving it there.

Polly and I gasp and demand that she go and wash her face, right now.
Case, pretty much closed.
Mother is not collapsing with a Horrid Disease. She is collapsing with Hand Soap.

She now starts to itch and scratch. She itches and scratches madly for several days and becomes quite irritable.
A day later, I am at my computer in my Art Room. It’s really hot.

I think, “Ummm, no one is coming around today. No gardeners, no pool man, no workers of any kind. I believe I will just take my shirt and bra off.”

This room is at the back and side of my house, where no one can see me. There is a solid bank of oleander bushes which hides Odd Lee’s house.

Such relief. I am typing away, naked from the waist up. I glance to my left, toward the row of windows. The gas man is looking at me. The gas man is filling the tank under the oleanders and he is looking at me!! Why God? Why? He only comes once every several months or so…

The next day, I am in the back patio, the one off my Art Room. Once again, I am naked. Fully naked. Why? Because I’m a slow learner and I like the sun, that’s why!

I am dozing in a chair. Dozing and dreaming. Bob, my little brown dog, the one who is so allergic to bees that the next sting will kill him, is licking the patio stones beside me.
I open my eyes and glance at him. Oh my God! He’s going into anaphylactic shock! I know that look. I have seen it before. He must have licked up a bee.

I snatch him up and race naked into the house. In the refrigerator, I have a set of hypodermic needles filled with medicine, given to me by the Vet incase this happens, again. I also have a bottle of anti-histamine for Bob.

Through the months from his first sting and near death, I have wondered, ‘Can I do this if Bob gets stung, again? Can I jam the needles in the right places in his thighs? Can I miss the bone? Can I?’

I find out.

I hold Bob to the floor, grab up a needle and Bam! It goes into the meat of his left leg.
I grab the next hypo, and the needle flys out. I skimmy across the floor to grab it and put it back in it’s holder, and it’s Bam! into the other leg.

Next, the anti-histamine. I don’t have my glasses on, so I just suck up fluid in a tube and shoot it down his throat. Next, as I’ve been told, I have to run him to the Vet, immediately. This is well and good, but I am naked and unnerved.

Fortunately, I manage to get most of my clothes on, throw Bob in a cardboard box that is by the door, toss in the used needles so the vet will know what I have done, and we’re off.

Bottom line, I save Bob’s life. I am very pleased with myself and so grateful that Bob is alive and well.

There have been two terrible life threatening events in a week; my brother and now Bob. It’s a bit much for me.
He’s some more rather useless, but hopefully entertaining information:

The telephone repair man tells me today, “Elbert Bronson’s tractor…down the road from you…got loose last week and took out several telephone poles.”

My friend Connie says her sister’s husband is doing more and more unusal things. He’s now feeding the cat root beer. And a few days ago Donna found him putting root beer in the radiators of their truck and the car.
This may explain why Donna’s radiator blew up on the freeway.
I pick up my five year old granddaughter Lexi, from school. We are in her driveway and I am collecting my purse and some books when Lexi, from the back seat, says,
“My mommy’s not very smart, you know.”

This is an interesting observation and revelation. I’m dumbstruck. I think back to how her mother, my daughter Summer, was always in the gifted classes when she was a kid.

I look into the distance and say, “Oh? She isn’t very smart?”

“No,” Lexi says, “not everybody is, you know.”

I say, “Am I smart?”

Lexi says, “I don’t know. Are you?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “I’m very smart.”

Lexi ponders this then says, “….Then..my mommy must be smart?”

I can hardly wait to drop this information on Summer and I do so as soon as she gets home from work. Summer is not really pleased.

She thinks it over and then she says, “I think I know where this is coming from. Her dad is building her self esteem and he’s been saying things like, ‘You’re really smart, Lexi. You’re smarter then your Mom and Dad.”

Summer and I both look at each other and we say it at the same time, “I think he’d better can it!”
OFFER VALID THROUGH SEPT 18TH, 2008. After that, null and void.

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