Another Pet Peeve

A few blogs ago I wrote about that little sign on the back of trucks which reads, "This truck makes wide right turns." There is a second pet peeve of mine which also has to do with trucks.

On the back of many trucks, along with the above mentioned sign is the notice, "If you can't see my mirrors, then I can't see you."

And why is this my problem?

If you can't see my vehicle driving behind you in your mirrors, get bigger mirrors. If those stick out too much to be legal, then drive shorter trucks.

A truck company's engineering design flaws should not be my problem.

And that's what I think about it.

Face book

I am able, with some husband-help with the technology, to communicate with several thousand folks, by land line, cell phone, face book, blog, email and...egad, face to face.

I think I am losing my edge with the face to face stuff. No one talks back to me through the other media, unless I am ready and willing for them to do so.

Facial expressions do not have to be hidden, yawns stifled, whether they are yours or mine.

Today at lunch at a local restaurant my husband and I saw a couple enter whom we knew. I told Jim I'd go over after we ate and chat with them. The woman of the couple came over while I was in mid-fork...to chat. I said, as nicely as I could, and apparently too nicely for her to get the drift, "I was going to come over to say 'hi' after we'd eaten." She felt like she had saved me the trouble of coming over to her table by coming over to mine.

I was longing for my remote to mute her or minimize her or turn her off. There was no plug. I realized again why I love the computer. My agenda on my time. Or your agenda on your time.

I sound like a selfish recluse when I read this. Somehow I am okay with this.
That's what I think about it.

A Crummy Day...and yet

The Indianapolis Colts could not have looked worse...and on Sunday TV sports for all the world to see.

The high school girls' soccer team went down to defeat yesterday in the sectional semi-finals.

A grand daughter is sick.

My jeans are too tight...still.

And yet:

Ohio State won yesterday;

Michigan lost...and (hee hee) looked worse than the Colts look today.

Tomorrow the grand daughter will see the doctor.

Macy's and Sear's both have jeans in bigger sizes.

All in all, in perspective, life is pretty good.

That's what I think about it.

My Mother-in-Law

She was lost after her husband died. He was the center of her life, other than her Lord, protected her, found friends for them to hang out with, hung on himself until he could get them re-settled near family in Ohio from retirement years on the beach in South Carolina.

Then he was gone.

And most of the light left her life.

She stayed in the condo for a time, then needed smaller space to care for and more social interaction. We, the family, encouraged her to move into a Christian retirement home while she was still independent and could drive herself around. She went but told us over and over she just wanted to go be with her husband; she was ready to die.

A few months of adjustment and a few years of 'new normal,' she continued to bake cookies each week for the staff at the Christian Children's Home of Ohio. Indeed, her one comment about the small apartment she was moving to was that the oven was too small to accommodate her baking needs. When my husband, her son, would show up to work at the children's home on Friday the staff would be waiting. That was 'cookie day.' And if he wanted any cooperation from them that day, he had better have the cookies.

Anyway, the apartment got too much for her, she was falling, wandering, losing her way. Assisted living was next, her favorite furnishings moved to one room close to a nurses' station. A cane, a walker, a wheelchair, and a few months of a 'new normal' followed in too rapid succession.

Then nursing care. There was no normal here. Rapidly she declined. Slowly she 'left' us, sitting vacantly in front of the TV, unable to interact. Two days ago she had a major stroke. Today as I type this it is only a matter of days, perhaps hours until my husband calls to tell me that she has gotten her desire. I am happy for her on some level and for the family who have no regrets about their involvement and care for her.

Those who will see her at the funeral home will remember her holiday entertaining, cookies made weeks in advance and frozen, never sitting down for a dinner but up and around making sure plates and bowls were filled. In high school she had the lead in the senior class play. She played a pretty decent game of golf once, won many spelling bees at the christian home, knitted afghans for new moms in Ukraine to wrap their little ones in, planted flowers as a volunteer, stayed in the background and spent her life caring for people.

Soon she will be cared for in the arms of Jesus. It's been her goal for a long time.