There's not much in the way of Easter going on over at Daddio's so coming up with a post for today was a challenge. While he was napping, I took a peek in a box of photo's and papers that had been stashed away in his hall closet.
I found a poem I had written in 6th grade and printed up in a booklet by my teacher. That typo should say "on the wing" and not "on the run". Apparently my teacher knew nothing about rhymes.
I think that's me in my Easter bonnet with my diaper on display. Anyone remember rubber pants? I must have been going somewhere I didn't want to go. I have no idea who the headless woman is behind me. My mother would never have worn a dress like that so I know it's not her.
That's my grandmother on Easter on her way out to services at Brentwood Methodist Church, I'm guessing. We called her Meme. She was always a looker. I wish I had inherited that tall, thin body. My daughter did.
I have no idea who these kids are but they have nice Easter baskets.
That's me again dressed up for egg hunting. That car tells you how old I am. So does the printing on the side of the photo.
More strange kids and more really nice baskets. I love cellophane wrapped baskets.
I do know that this is my father's sister Sara Jane in her Easter bonnet. He always called her Esther for no good reason, even though she hated it. We called her Aunt Esther until the day she died and she let us because we didn't know any better having been raised by her idiot brother. True story.
My nights with Daddio's are coming to an end. Middle Sister goes back to work Monday so I will be switching over to days and she will do nights. Little Sister will be joining us here and there when needed. It's such a blessing to have a herd of us to bear this burden. I feel sorry for only children. To make things easier for us the manage him, we've rented a hospital bed and set it up in the living room so he can see the TV and moved the sewing tables in there so he can watch us sew.
He left us a big pile of paper pieces to finish so in between his care and feedings, I've been making my way through the pile.
I'm not as good at it as he was.
Even my ironing leaves a lot to be desired. His were always nice and tight and crisp. Mine are rather sloppy and floppy.
I've made nine rings now. I only need one more. I need to get some backing and start sewing them down.
Daddio loves his variegated thread and I'm a big fan now too.
It fools the eye so my terrible whip stitches seem to disappear.
I am really feeling the need to get this project done in the near future. I would like him to see it finished. Daddio's hip surgery is scheduled for May 7th but I'm afraid it's going to be a race against the clock. Trying to keep him in good enough physical shape to even have the operation is not going to be easy. Laying immobile has taken a huge toll on his general health and things aren't looking good. We are in for some long and difficult days ahead, I'm afraid.
I have been doing the night shift with Daddio but neither of us get much sleep. As soon as the sun starts to go down his behavior becomes odd. Doctors call this "sundowning". People suffering from dementia, no matter how mild (such as Daddio's case), become agitated at night and fight sleep. He falls into his only really deep sleep of the day just when the sun comes up over the bay. Exhausted from a night of trying to convince him to rest, I finally get a few hours of peace.
While waiting for Middle Sister to come and take over the day shift, I've been working on this old thing. We started this yo-yo pillow a long time ago and making more yo-yo's for a few minutes a day has been something to look forward to.
We've got a big stash of orphan charm squares that are perfect for the job.
It's the sewing equivalent to rows and rows of mindless garter stitch. I'm still churning out dish cloths but I can knit those in the dark in the middle of the night. I can't sew until the sun comes up.
These little things are so cute. I'm not sure how I am going to end this project when the pillow top is finally full. I'll just have to worry about that another day.
Happy Passover y'all! Thanks to my brother in law, we were introduced to the glory of the matzo years ago.
It's a happy day when the Passover food gets put out on the shelves of the grocery stores. Those coconut marshmallows are to die for and if you cover them with melted chocolate you will go straight to heaven.
I confess I love Manischewitz wine. I imbibe all year long. It cures what ails you.
Our family favorite is matzo ball soup.
Since the weather has become rather wintery once again, you can't beat a hot pot of these bubbling nuggets for warming the tummy.
Middle Sister and I have been splitting twelve hour shifts over at Daddio's this week in order to keep him in one piece until we can get his hip looked at. I've been doing the night shift and it's been giving me plenty of time to get caught up on some of our quilting projects.
This is a flannel disappearing nine patch kit from Connecting Threads.
It's soft and fluffy and has a really cute back side.
I just stitched it in the ditch and it was done in no time at all.
Daddio has been working his way down the long list of great grand children as recipients.
This one is going to the oldest of them all. His little brother is next on the list. All we are waiting for is to find some male themed charm squares that we like.
In the meantime we are keeping busy with yet another small quilt of the same design from the flowery Heather's Garden collection of fabrics. He says this is the one he wants to keep for himself but I'm betting he'll end up wanting to give it away too. He always does.
We are getting to be regulars in the emergency room.
In fact, after Daddio's third hip relocation on Friday night, Middle Sister and I were essentially told not to come back with him.
I am going to miss those vending machine dinners....
...and hours and hours of uninterrupted knitting time.
I do have a nice pile of dish cloths to show for these two weeks of hell.
Seriously though, there is nothing more that the orthopedic guys can do with old man's hip. The risk of fracture is now too great so we have to get him to a joint clinic in Mount Vernon, Virginia. The trick to that is to be able to get him there while the hip is in place because we can't move him any other way than by ambulance when it's out and the ambulances won't go there. Our clinic appointment is on Thursday. He's now strapped up to a big block of foam and we have to keep him completely immobile until then-at home. Mission impossible.
The Mister was complaining the other day that we have nothing in common anymore. It wasn't a serious concern, just a little man-whine at a partner who has been missing in action for days. Whenever I start to question our relationship, I just pull out one of the many boxes of photos we have in the hall closet. We actually have plenty in common and there's the proof.
He's turning 60 today so all this reflection is natural. It's not a nice feeling to realize you have more behind you than you have before you. It's especially tough when you are knee deep in elder care. At the moment he's got a 94 year old mom to contend with and well, you all know about our ongoing trials with Daddio.
As for The Mister and me, we've had thirty years of building things....
...acting like idiots....
...patching each other up.....
....and exploring the world together.
I'd like to say "best wishes" to the old fool and "here's to thirty more"-but who knows or even cares if we have thirty more. I'm ok with just taking the days one at a time.
As long as we are still adding photos to the boxes-and we certainly are-we're all good.