like pink lemonade

 

Yesterday didn't feel like a chai tea latte morning.  Instead, I brought in pink lemonade to M, "Good morning, Sunshine," and stroked her hair.  "Do you want some lemonade?"  She reached for the glass and started drinking.  "It's pink lemonade, from Trader Joe's."  Still drinking.  "Do you like it?"  STILL drinking, her eyes nodding up and down, ha.  I guess she does like it.  It WAS pretty refreshing, a nice blend of sweet and sour.

 

Golden retriever Megan's human has altered the walking schedule some due to the daytime heat, but pug Jack's human said he's just staying watching for signs of overheating.  Jack's younger, smaller, has less hair.  Daisy gets hot but loved visiting her friends.  

 

M went from sweet to sour when it was time to leave; she'd wanted more time to review for a Spanish retest and read her long dry pages for humanities.  I hadn't woken her up early enough (she had asked, I spaced).  We talked about all of this crankiness in the car, fine again by dropoff.   Ends up, she got a 90 on the retest (82 on the original final she'd really studied for, best in the class, many had definitely failing grades).   I'm proud of her for her grade, and glad that language 'clicks" for her so readily.

 

I checked Dad's bank balance online, hopeful to see a credit appear.  I'd been putting off requesting a loan enough to cover some of his bigger, more urgent needs, and some other things.  At first, the number didn't seem correct.  Oh, the credit appeared, a day later than anticipated argh, and also a large automatic deposit.  The money from the house, Dad's house.  He has money now.  Such relief, really.  I don't have to worry; I can get him groceries now (without charging them on my credit cards), we can call in the various people to do yard work and house repairs now.   Whatever he's needing now should be okay.   Burden lifted.  

 

At lunchtime, I felt in need of a shower just being outside.   I try to have Daisy outside longer in the earlier and later hours, shorter walks in the hotter hours.  She asks for extra water which we give her.  I water the heirloom variety tomato plants M helped grow in school, the two she brought home for Grandma.  One worker pauses in the shade from mowing the fast-growing grass, wiping his face with his sleeve.  I thought of bringing him out something really cold to drink, but decide he might think I was trying to make advances on him.   I'm paid back for my inaction with a hot oven, baking Funfetti cupcakes for celebrating L's birthday at class last night.  

 

Dad didn't tell me when the settlement was going through; Doug did.  He called about a week or so ago, "Robin, did you know Dad has settlement tonight at 7:00?"  Actually, I didn't.  I'd talked with Dad a few times that day, visited the day or two previously, and no mention even the enxt day.  Doug talked for a while, the guy from the reverse mortgage company had let Doug know of the final settlement date and time, it'd been at 5:00 p.m. but got postponed.  We count down the time.  Doug mentioned the various options he'd gone through in his head as to how else to best care for our father.  This isn't a new conversation, except for one piece he'd not mentioned to me before.  It wasn't truly workable once Doug thought it through.  We both know without needing to explain to each other how it would not work for Dad to live with either of us, sadly.  I told Doug that I end up just telling people how very tiny M/my place is, and how there isn't even room for Dad, and that is true.  It's just not "the rest of the story," either.  What'd be nice to offer isn't reality; I don't have the resources never mind everything else.  We both list other options, discussed before, and we've both had notice this was coming and yeah could have stopped it last week, but then what?  Predatory mortgage company going from $400-500/month to over $1200./month, and then if late, charging over $900./month in late fees, for someone who has sole income as social security?  Their version of working with Dad was to not charge $1600./month in mortgage payments.  Riiiigghhttt.  So, it happened. 

 

I caught the mail carrier in time to pay something of dad's, relief I can do so.

 

M texted me, "please bring extra underwear ..... swimming with horses."   She rode Blue yesterday down to the creek where the horses swam about and M and her riding friends got soaked, and cooled off.  I brought her a full change of clothes, and more to drink The cupcakes frosting appeared melted as moist as the air, the sprinkles hanging on.

 

I thought of the things Dad can have done now.  Doug called me while M's in dance class, M interrupting me to ask for her "new" hard shoes.  Seems two others wanted their "new" hard shoes broken in, also.  M was excited to tell me that Ma had hugged M, congratulated M on winning 1st place in Treble Reel, "So, did you do Gaelic 2 or Chitty Bang?"  M explained to me how Gaelic 2 has easier steps but the technique has to be perfect showing me what drums are, a step used in Gaelic 2 (M had danced Ma's choreographed Treble Reel called Chitty Bang).  Life is moving on. 

 

Outside the dance class, Doug and I talked of next steps for Dad and housework, and how Doug went over to readjust the volume on Dad's cell phone.  Those daggone volume buttons are right along the side and so way too easy for Dad to hit.  Meals on Wheels had called me earlier yesterday, nice woman, relaying to me that Dad's phone wasn't working again.  Maybe M would be okay visiting Dad again, I've been cutting his hair and trimming his beard, washing his clothes, the place is picked up but needs work.  Doug and I are concerned that this isn't enough money, we know it is several thousand less than it should have could have been, will it really get the house fixed, Dad's other needs met, if he's careful?

 

I almost forgot to give out the Funfetti cupcakes with sprinkles and L's special bigger cake.  I remembered after I watched the last moments of M and L in their private with Ma.  Ma has been creating a 2-hand figures dance for them, that is really looking lovely. 

 

M and I stop for a quick dinner enroute home.  I'm still in the mood for lemonade.  "Are you sure you want this much?"  I did order a medium, a medium that's gargantuan but artificial sweetener so my blood sugar won't soar unhealthily.  "I guess so."  It wasn't as good as the pink lemonade.  Even between the two of us, we didn't finish it.  The moon is full again, M commented that it was fuzzy; I noticed that it was a yellowish pink. 

 

I had a stomachache this morning.  Too much lemonade?  The cold version of chai tea latte (liquid chai tea mix combined with non-sour vanilla soy shake soy milk), and my stomach started feeling better, as if coated again.  M wanted to be up early, finish figuring out what clothes and things for her class beach trip next week as she was to go to her dad's tonight (I did wake her early, with a cup of warm chai tea latte not that she wanted to get up early after all). 

 

Not QUITE as muggy outside, Daisy all excited as Colt and Pashma (cotton candy in Farsi??) were both outside our windows.   I look at the lawns and bushes and tomato plants, and think of Dad's house.  That's not Dad's house now.  It's been his house for approximately 40 years, and now it's just as if he's a renter in a way, biding his time until he dies (or moves to a nursing facility).

 

A really nice woman from Meals on Wheels just called me, relaying to me that Dad can't work his phone again today.  We chatted for a bit, her husband in the background.  Bless these people.  I reached Dad, though, on his phone that cut off once but then was okay.  I don't know if it's the phone itself, or the carrier.  Clearer, he can't find one of his bills he's eager to pay, we go over some other things, but then he can't hear me and then it cuts off again.  

 

It'll be okay.  Sweet and sour.

Tags: reverse mortgage, eldercare