Chez Rozarie

Wow, it's been a busy, crazy summer, hasn't it?  But here we are, now in Fall.  One of my favorite times of year.  The weather is more accomodating to my hot flashes, and I can garden again.  It has always been a time of reflection for me - taking stock of my life.  It almost feels like my year runs from Fall to Summer, rather than January to December.  Well, I can do that, can't I? Remember when you were young (like a teenager young) and you were caught between fitting in and acting out?  I have to say, I think I should have acted out a bit more.  I feel like I do that way more often now than I ever did.  Fitting in is so much less important.  So I wear my tie-dye dresses, and got some ink in visible places (almost ready for a new piece).  I had apple pie with ice cream for breakfast at the diner last week...and others looked at me funny and I said, "You had a choice - you too could have chosen this!". It was busy this summer, ...

We've had some busy weeks lately.  Back in June, I was told I needed a hysterectomy.  The sooner the better was my response, and so it was scheduled for July.  In the meantime, I had things to do, things to settle, and prepare. Dad was good about it all, at first, but thought we would need a nurse at home, like Mom did, back in 1974.  Mom had the big cut, in hospital for a week, "with drains and stuff.  I couldn't even see her", Dad said.  Then she came home and he hired a nurse!  Some of you may know how cheap Dad is, and be like, "a NURSE"?  But he couldn't bear (still can't) the sight of stitches, or bandages, or blood and didn't even want to be around Mom so he worked lots of shifts at the phone company and at Pop's (the local gin joint) to pay for the nurse (Mrs. O'Leary, who just lost her son in a work accident). Of course, I tried to explain that a robot was doing my surgery - called DaVinci, and I would go in on a Friday, go h...

This afternoon, I was waiting for my husband and finally said, "Come on, let's go"...and heard my mother's voice saying those words.  I then said immediately, "Oh my God, I sound just like my mother."  I smiled, cause it wasn't such a bad sound. It's been a while since I recognized that, probably because she wasn't very coherent before she passed, or maybe because the words she did use weren't words I used. Mom used to say that when she got tired, no matter where she was.  If she was here at our house, she said it, even when going home meant going upstairs.  If she was at the diner, she said it, at my sister's she said it.  Then when Mom and Dad moved to Senior Housing, she said it all the time to my Dad, or to me when I sat with her. At the hospital she said it, then at the nursing home in Southport.  When she stopped saying it, I knew she was gone to us. Those four words were her trademark - Dad would try to weasel around the wo...

Mom was a noninventive cook.  She didn’t try new things – stayed with tried and true.  Once she got a recipe down pat, you knew you would be eating it regularly.  She came of age in the 1950’s, so we had lots of 50’s style foods – meat, potatoes and canned veggies were the go to items most of the time, especially in the winter.  But come summer time, that would all change.  Dad did like to grill, fortunately for us, and he loved those gas grills with the instant on factor.  Mom would only be responsible for an add on or 2.  Salads were a down pat item for her.   In the 50’s, salads could be just about anything – jello was a favorite ingredient, and so was canned fruit.  There was no such thing as bagged greens for salads.  Mom learned a few regular salads from her mother (also not the best cook).  None of them included vegetables. Mom’s favorite was a green concoction that we all called “green slime”.  I didn’t mu...

I am having a rough time with this Mother's Day this year.  First time without her physical presence, you know?  Some of you have passed this way already, and I've read your posts and seen the memes you have shared.  With dread, I waited till today to really acknowledge my angst.  I've bitched about my dislike of the day to my friends and to people who truly understand...our Moms are not here forever...While Mom was physically around last year, her mind had truly gone to an unknown land by Mother's Day.  Risperadol and other medications began doing their horrendous job.  We brought her flowers, which she couldn't keep in her room.  Arghhhh.  Not going there with this.  Going to go to a different place with this today. Mother's Day was the day Dad felt he HAD to take us out to dinner.  So when we were little, we had to get dresses on (usually pulled out the Easter garb, you know?).  We'd all get ready, and wait for Dad to get ready...

I'll catch back up to our Southern Quick Trip next time...a few old school happenings popped into my head this week, and I wanted to write about them before I forgot...No, no dementia yet (that I know about) but I am a menopausal woman and have seen those memes about our brains, so I want to be ahead of the "curve" for once in my life! Remember when so many Moms came home from work and cooked dinner for us all, or were already home and cooked dinner for us all?  Sometimes Dads were there, and sometimes they weren't, but most of us didn't have to cook our own dinners, at least a few times a week. My Mom was a pretty bad cook.  She was - no shame, it just wasn't her thing.  I totally understand that now, and didn't know how little she cared, or how bad a cook she was till many years later.  She had her standard decent meals, and she could fix a great gravy or sauce or whatever you may call that delicious standard of the week in any household where there ...

Before Dad and I went south, I felt the need to have the "talk" with him, for several reasons.  First, I know he never had to use any type of "equipment" with my Mom.  Second, he is a catch for some of those women in Florida (I know, but he really is).  Third, I am NOT dealing with the aftermath of him getting some creepy crawly STD. So, I practiced the "talk" in my head for a few days.  If I say this, what will he say in return?  Will he respect my need to have the "talk" with him?  Can I get it all out without an "eeeeuuuwww" coming through in my voice?  How offended will he get (notice I knew he would be offended - but could handle a certain level of it)? Finally ready for it, I broached the subject. "Dad, you know you are going to be staying in some other people's homes when you are in Fort Myers.  Some of these women are not with a partner.  You might decide that you want to have some fun."  Now, I am YELLING th...