Posts Tagged ‘ dog ’

My Mother’s Friend

Wednesday, May 8th, 2013

My Mother’s Friend, Martha

My mother’s friend Martha is 90 years old. She is mainly blind from birth, and now her hearing is drifting off. I imagine words coming towards her and curling into a gentle, blue puffy cloud.

Martha lives alone with her dog friend, Gretel.

Martha considers my mother her best friend. But, my mother is dead… and hence so is Martha’s best friend.

Martha calls me on the phone one day, wanting to return a book to me. She must have borrowed it from my mother.

I say, “Keep it or give it away, whatever you want.”

There is a silence.

“Oh. Do you want me to come and get it?” I ask.

Yes. She does.

She’s lonely. She wants to see me. I haven’t seen Martha since my mother died 2 1/2 years ago.

The next day when I arrive at her gate, I park my car, get out and wait for her to push her way down the drive with her walker. She unlocks the heavy wire gate and I step through the opening.

She reaches toward me, takes my face in her hands and peers closely up into my face.

“Oh. You look just like your mother. It’s like having your mother here with me, again.”

I am going to be my mother for an hour or two as I spend some time with Martha.

We inch our way up the long drive. Martha tells me she has to use the walker because her dog, in her great thrill with life and running, ran over her one day when they were outside. Greta knocked Martha to the ground and Martha broke her leg.

“But, I’m fine now,” Martha tells me once we are settled in the house at her table. “I only bring the walker outside with me so Greta can’t take me down when she’s chasing rabbits and squirrels.

Martha has a nice old house. It’s not fancy. It’s plain. The kitchen where we are sitting has old coffee cans dotting the sink, mismatched dishes and cracked drinking glasses. It looks like my mother’s kitchen.

Martha’s husband died 25 years ago. I remember him. A tall man with a great, big dark moustache that ran up at the ends into a wide smile.

They raised chickens. Looking out the kitchen window I notice the long old chicken houses, rusted with age and neglect.

Martha has been alone for a long, long time.

Her children live in places like China and Nepal. One lives across a wide field near Martha but she is gone for ten and more hours a day.

I look around and silently wonder, ‘How do you live alone when you are old and nearly blind and can hardly hear?’

“How do you do it?” I ask her.  ”How do you feel about living alone?”

Martha says she is healthy. That even her knees are good. She thinks a minute. “About living and being alone for so many years? I just do it.”

She says it used to be easier when a bus came by and took her uptown but that it’s been years since that bus came by. Once a week, a friend takes her for a senior lunch at the Centre. The daughter that lives across the big field, takes her grocery shopping and they have lunch every Sunday.

I hear the ticking of an old wooden clock on the kitchen wall. We sit quietly and I listen to the tick. Martha has been listening to that clock tick her days away for at least 25 years.

“I have to go now,” I say, reluctantly. “I have to be somewhere else.”

“Oh. It’s been so nice having you here for awhile,” she says. She is disappointed that I have to go.

“In a couple, of weeks,” I say, “I’m going to call you and come and get you and take you to my house for lunch and tea. Would you like that?”

She would!

Now, we both have something to look forward, too.

Martha sees my mother in me…and I see my mother in Martha.

My mother’s old friend is now my new friend.

My mother’s friend is now my friend, too.

Suddenly, I feel all sweet and warm inside.

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Posted in Family, Good Energy, Odd People I Meet, Relationships, Stories about Mother, Words from Venus | 7 Comments »

Blessings Of An Unusual Kind

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

My mother, who is 87, has been talking lately about the tea kettles.

“The tea kettles are doing this, the tea kettles are doing that.”

It took me awhile to understand that she is talking about the recent American political group, The Tea Party! I had been thinking, ‘Why? Why are tea kettles out doing things?’

My mother and I are sitting on her deck, watching the cars go by on the road on the other side of her wide field. My mother smiles broadly and her white hair glistens in the sun. She’s wearing her little red, dog-hair decorated sweater over her blue, green and purple top with the coffee stains on the front, with hot pink sweat pants and high rider tennis shoes.

“You look good, Mom,” I say. ”I’m glad you stopped that cancer medicine. You don’t look terminal to me.”

This is the medicine that cost $4400.00 (!) a month and caused Mom’s nose to swell to the size of a small potato.

I had come over to visit her after she had been on the medicine for a few days. I kept looking at her face. Something wasn’t right, but what was it? She didn’t look like my Mother. I had studied her, carefully.

“I think your lipstick is wrong,” I said. “It’s going up over your top lip somehow and it seems odd.” (more…)

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Posted in Art and Beauty, Family, Looking Good, Photos, Relationships, Stories about Mother, Wierd Stuff, Words from Venus | 6 Comments »

MOTHER HAS A PLAN

Saturday, July 11th, 2009

Polly calls.

“We have to do something! Mother got up this morning and there was a big rat swimming around and around in her toilet bowl and she couldn’t get him out and then she did get him out with the toilet brush and then her dog grabbed him and ate him and Mom says that somehow the toilet seat got dismantled and torn up and she feels really bad about the rat getting eaten, he was trying so hard to survive.”

Polly sucks air and goes on. “She has lost her blood pressure pills for three days now and that’s very dangerous and you can’t find anything in that place it’s such a mess and there are vast dangling cobwebs on her windows, have you seen them, her housekeeper is no good but Mom won’t fire her because she likes her and Becky has ripped up all the rugs digging for squirrels under the house and we need to replace the floors with vinyl, Mom agrees and Mom just keeps eating that same crock pot soup that cooks all the time and she never dumps it and starts over and you have to do something and right now, Venus.”

I say, “I’m not coming over there and clean that house. I am not cleaning up all the blood and guts from all the dismembered field creatures that her cat brings in. I am not. ”

I know my abilities and housecleaning is not one of them.

Polly jags off onto another topic about how she, Polly, fired her website person and she is now doing the site herself and how she was talking to so and so this famous person and her grandkids are always over at her place and she can’t get anything done and she keeps jigging and jagging from topic to topic and I can’t stand it. Trying to follow her mind makes me feel crazy and I finally  yell, “Shut up! Shut up!”

“Arrgh?” she says.

“What’s wrong with you, are you ADD?!!  You never stay with one line of thought. I can’t stand it,” I say and I am not kind about it.

And later that day the results from the CAT scan our mother had a week or so, come in. (more…)

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Posted in Family, Mysteries in Life, Relationships, Stories about Mother, Things I'm Not Good At, Wierd Stuff, Words from Venus | 12 Comments »

Life Is A Round Egg

Thursday, May 14th, 2009

My ex-husband Ken, has given me total permission to say anything I want about him on this blog. Is he crazy? Or, was he drinking when he said it? I can’t remember, so that’s good enough for me, I will just imagine that he said, ‘yes’ while he was in his right and usual mind.

Ken is Summer’s dad. He is also known as Bumpa to our grand kids, Lexi and Loch.

Ken is going to build me a chicken coop. I have it in my mind that I want three red laying hens: Stella, Lolly and maybe Louise.

Ken asks me how soon do I want this coop. I say, “Right now. Immediately. I have already met my new chicken friends at the Diamond D Feed Store.”

We work out the perfect spot on my property. It’s almost under a giant scrub oak tree.

Ken paces out the size, raises one of his arms in the air and says, “The nesting boxes are just past my armpit.”

Then, he goes home.

He emails me several days later. “When I drive by in a few days on my way to my house in the desert, I’ll pick you up and take you to the desert hot springs.”

I email back and say, “No. I have a better idea. When you come by let’s go up to Ransom Brothers hardware store and get all the materials to build the chicken coop. Then we will come back to my house and build it. My chickens are waiting.”

Mother’s Day comes around and Ken is here at my house, babysitting our grand kids while my mother, my daughter Summer and four sisters and a woman friend, lunch and party.

Bumpa takes babysitting seriously. He sits on a chair near the end of the patio and watches the kids make mud pies, just beyond the metal gate. For hours. He watches the kids like an interested guard dog.

Meanwhile, a few drinks into the outdoor brunch, my daughter Summer mentions that another scrub oak’s arms are too far into part of my patio.

“Mom, no one can walk through here. We need to cut those branches out.” (more…)

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Posted in Family, Parties and Fun, Pets, Relationships, Stories about Mother, Things I'm Not Good At, Wierd Stuff, Words from Venus | 10 Comments »

CUPCAKES, CANDY AND RAT MAN.

Friday, February 20th, 2009

Mother and I are having a glass of wine. We’re sitting inside her home at the ratty round table in her dining area. I have just swept off a pile of really old papers, used napkins, envelopes, pencils, dead flowers and dry cat food. Mother removes her dog Becky’s box of dog cookies, “Which she won’t eat,” my mother says. “She just likes to carry the cookies around the house.”

Mom tells me how her fluffy black cat Josie, the one I found abandoned while out walking, is bringing dead field rabbits into her bedroom almost every day and she and Becky the Dog tear them apart and eat them, just outside Mom’s clothes closet.

This is nothing to be concerned about.

I mention that I have just finished baby sitting my six year old granddaughter Lexi for five days.

“We went to Jimbo’s one day; you know the organic grocery store where everything is so high class and so expensive. Lexi saw some cupcakes in the bakery case and desperately wanted one.”

Mom smiles and nods.

“Well, you know her mom doesn’t let her eat sweets, so it’s a special deal when she gets something like that. Lexi keeps pressing her face to the glass case and gazing at those chocolate cupcakes. And begging me to relent and get one for her.”

Mother says, “Oh, I like chocolate.”

“Yes, and so does Lexi. And these cupcakes are swirled and piled really high with bright pink frosting. Lexi’s beside herself with desire, so finally I say, ‘OK, you can have one.’ She then immediately starts twrilling in the isle and spinning with delight. ‘Oh thank you Baba! Oh thank you Baba!’”

Mom nods again and smiles.

“Well, the nice lady behind the counter pulls out the plate of cupcakes and lets Lexi choose the biggest, most gigantic one with the most frosting. The lady puts it in a special see-through plastic box with a shiny red bow tie. Lexi wants to eat the cupcake right away but I insist we pay for it first!”

“So, it takes about twenty minutes to finish shopping and get to the car and the whole time Lexi is gazing fondly at that cake, smiling and laughing and is so excited she’s practically mad with wanting it.”

Mom is still smiling and nodding. She knows there must be some reason why I am drawing out this really mundane, boring story about a cupcake.

“We get in the car and I tell Lexi, ‘OK, you can eat it now,’ and I turn the car onto the freeway. Next thing I know, Lexi lets loose this outraged screech! I am so startled I almost jack the car over the center line. 

“‘What’s wrong, Lexi?!”

Lexi howls. And howls. And howls. She sounds like a wild cat.

“Lexi, I can’t help you, I’m driving! What is it?”

Lexi is choking with sobs. “The frosting tastes bad, Baba! I hate it. I hate it. It’s bad, Baba.”

She shoves the cupcake over my shoulder. I lean down and take a bite.

Oh my gosh. It’s cream cheese frosting. It’s not that wonderful swirled pile of sugar that Lexi thought she was getting. That mound of sugar that she had begged for, the sugar that she rarely gets. She had been so delighted with her good fortune and now this…this imposter!

My mother is sympathetic as I continue the story. 

“Lexi just keeps sobbing. She can’t get over being deceived by that cupcake.

I tell her things like, ‘Well, you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.’ Which makes no sense to her, so I try and explain, but that’s futile.

And I say ‘Well this is a lesson that everything that looks good or like gold, isn’t always’. And, ‘There are many disappointments in life.’

Lexi isn’t open to Life Lessons right now. None of this preachy talk has any effect on her emotional disappointment and her wrenching sobs so you know what I have to do. I have to eat that damn cupcake because you can’t waste food, especially anything chocolate. And, Lexi sobs loudly for most of the drive home.”

“Did you give her some chocolate ice cream when you got home?” my mother asks.

“No. I gave her a popsicle. An all natural lime popsicle with no sugar.”

Now, my mother looks disappointed.

Then, she brightens up. “You know,” she says, “I had a big bag of peanut candies and I ate a bunch the other day and I got really, really sick. I’ve had diarrhea before but this was different. It was bad. I was terribly ill.”

I suck air. “You ate peanut candy!? Mom, don’t you know that all these people have been getting salmonella from peanut products because of that filthy plant that had to shut down recently? People are dying from peanut products Mother, old people, especially 86 year old people  and you’re eating peanut candy?”

“Yes,” Mom says. “And, the next day I ate some more.  And I got really, really sick again, so than I threw the bag away.”

I put my head down on the table top. I spend a lot of time putting my head down on table tops because of  my family.

“And, how is Rat Man,” I ask, just to change the subject.

Rat Man is what mother calls the pest control man who was hired to rid her house of ants and spiders and other crawlies. (Dead rabbits and squirrels in the house are OK.)

The last time he was here, I was visiting Mom. She casually mentioned to me that she had had no heat or hot water and the gas stove hadn’t worked either, for more than 24 hours!

“Gads! Mother,” I remember whining, “why don’t you mention these things?”

I run outside and get Rat Man.

“Can you help us, please?” I say. “Would you look at Mom’s water heater and see if the pilot light blew out?”

Rat Man is a young guy and quite amiable about helping old ladies, it turns out.

“Sure,” he says. “Where is it?”

I grab Mother and we waffle and whiffle down the porch steps together in a very strong wind.

The water heater, it turns out, is screwed in behind a metal door on the outside of her metal trailer!

Rat Man looks at the door. There must be fifteen tiny screws in that metal door, screwed tight into that metal trailer.

Eeeh gads. Is this a job for Rat Man? He only kills vermin. But, he has his ego and his honor to think of.

He finds a screw driver in his car and begins to turn the screws. It takes a very long time and did I mention that big, icy cold, stiff, raging wind we three are standing in?

Finally, the door is off and oh my gosh, the webs and spiders. Rat Man will need to add some extra squirts of pestie paste in here.

He leans down and into the mess, looking for the pilot light. It’s a hard find. Mother and I are hanging over his shoulders, one on each side.

Rat Mans find the pilot. Rat Man takes a match out of his poket…did I mention that Raging Wind? And valiantly tries to light the son-of-a-b….

He tries and tries. He finds more matches and strikes more matches. He’s getting red in the neck.

Mom has a question for him. She leans even farther over his shoulder and says to me, “Is this the same man that tried to light my pilot light on the stove last year and got blown clear across the kitchen?”

Eeeegh gads! 

“Mother,” I say, “this is not the time…”

Rat Man sounds like he is whimpering.

“Are you the same man,” my mother persists, “that had the gas explode while he was lighting the stove pilot and it blew him across the kitchen and the lady that was with him started screaming and screaming so loud that I could hear her in my bedroom and I’m profoundly deaf, you know.”

I’m dyin.’ I’m laughing so hard I fall to my knees.

Rat Man jumps straight up and steps on me. “I got it lit!” he says. 

Thank you God.

The question is:

Why do I often wobble home from my Mother’s??

 The answer:

Sometimes it’s the wine we drink or the peanut candy we eat and sometimes it’s the things that happen over there.

…………………………………………………..

GOOD NEWS! My brother, Arthur, is in complete remission from acute leukemia. He will be on chemo pills for two more years. But, no more talk of bone marrow transplants and stem cells and all of that. We are all elated. Thank you for all your prayers and good wishes. X Venus

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Posted in Family, Relationships, Screaming Hysterics, Stories about Mother, Wierd Stuff, Words from Venus | 15 Comments »

A Family Gathering

Monday, December 22nd, 2008
Venus with Bob in my sitting room

Venus with Bob in our sitting room

Bob the DogHi, I thought you might like to see some of my family. Sparkle the cat is here, too. She doesn’t seem to like the camera.

Every night, Sparkle comes and nuzzles under the bed covers with me. Her feet are usually cold and she likes to prop them up on whatever bare skin she can find. She also likes to sleep with her cheek right against mine, on the pillow, which means I can’t wear any greasy night cream to bed. If I do, I get a furry cat hair face that itches me all night.

Sparkle (afraid of the camera)

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Posted in Family, Parties and Fun, Pets, Photos | 12 Comments »