Confrontation

This morning, I couldn’t help but be a bit aggravated with Dad. This is becoming more and more frequent; not this specific event but the aggravation. I know he’s 87 years old and isn’t the man he used to be. But…

Last summer, when our propane company came out to refill the tank, they noticed it was unlevel so they scheduled that to be done asap. Well, it must have rained for 2 weeks straight and they had to wait for the ground to dry out before doing the job.

The ground finally dried out and they came to level the tank. It was a quick fix and Dad signed the work order to show the work was done. Dad was told there would be no charge for this job.

Last month, Dad got a phone call from the propane company and was told he had an outstanding bill. Dad asked what the amount was and was told that it was $55.00. Dad asked what the bill was for because no idea what it could be. You see, Dad always pays his bills ontime and there’s no way propane only cost us $55.00! The woman told him it was for (the date) when they came out to fix a gas leak. Dad said he had no gas leak and explained that a guy came out and leveled the tank. I couldn’t hear what the woman was saying but Dad told her to send a bill because he never got one.

Dad and I discussed this afterward and he decided that he was going to have to call and challenge this bill. I mean, why not? He was told there was no charge and it was for leveling the tank not a gas leak. I told him they may find that they made an error and that there was no charge after all. He agreed. When the bill came, we had the same discussion with the same conclusion.

This morning, I remembered about the bill and asked him if he ever called the propane company. He said no and that he just went ahead and paid the bill. I got mad and asked him why he would do that when it may have been a mistake? They just screwed him out of $55.00! He then got mad at me and said he’d rather pay it than have them decline to refill the tank when he orders propane next time. OMG. I told him that they may have found that THEY were in error and deleted the charge from his account. He just walked away. WTH?

Is he so afraid of confrontation that he won’t call and fix errors? He’s getting awful about this type of thing. Not that we get billed for things/services never received, but when a telemarketer calls he sits there on the phone for longer than necessary, telling them over and over that he is not interested. He won’t raise his voice. He won’t tell them to stop calling. He won’t hang up on them! Good grief!

No one likes confrontation but Dad always did what had to be done before. Now he just goes with the flow. Like that parking ticket he got from a state he hadn’t been in for years – he paid it with absolutely no question. I’m afraid this is going to get worse and worse.

I know many people have dealt with elderly parents with problems like dementia or just a decline in their mental health. Is confrontation something that older folks shy away from? Is this normal?

Stage Fright

When I was in elementary school, the school decided to have a fashion show. I don’t know whose bright idea it was but it doesn’t make sense. Why would an elementary school have a fashion show? Beats me. Maybe it wasn’t a fashion show. Maybe my memories aren’t as clear as they used to be.

Anyway, my mom was a fantastic seamstress. No, nothing professional but she made some of the clothes my sisters and I wore. So, she made my sisters and me matching dresses and we were entered in the fashion show!

I was scared shitless being only 10 or 11 years old but I was the lead in this model trio and it was my job to make sure my sisters (ages 6 and 2 approximately) did what they were supposed to do on stage. Ugh. My middle sister did pretty well but the littlest wanted to run around like a banshee. I was petrified! I had to hold her hand and keep her under control while we turned and showed our lovely dresses. We were taught to curtsy when we finished, but I don’t remember my sisters doing it. I was too focused on keeping the littlest sister from running right off the edge of the stage!

At the end of our “performance,” the crowd cheered and at that very moment I was in awe of my mother and her mad sewing skills! My mother actually won that fashion show competition!

I know now or think I know, that it wasn’t so much the dresses that won. That was part of it of course, but it was really the whole package. Not just one dress but three dresses. Not just one model but three models. Unique. Plus watching a little rugrat running around on stage and me trying to keep her from killing herself surely added to the entertainment value!

I have what I thought was a photo of us in those dresses, but the dresses don’t match. Maybe mom didn’t make matching dresses after all. As I said, my memories may not be as clear as they used to be. But here’s that faded photo anyway!

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Merry Christmas, My Friends

Although today is Christmas Eve, my Christmas is over. Dad and I had ours yesterday with my son and his beautiful family. We had a nice visit and our family’s traditional Christmas Eve with pizza, pizza balls, and popcorn cake. We opened gifts and after a great afternoon, we left.

The only thing missing was our tradition of watching Christmas movies, as we did when my kids were little. The Santa Claus, Trapped In Paradise, Bad Santa, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Home Alone, and the originals Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas were among our favorites. Of course, the list changed over the years as movies such like Bad Santa were inappropriate for little ones!

It’s been a rough couple of months and it was nice not to worry about a holiday meal or cleaning for guests. I think my days of hosting family get-togethers are over. Last year, I put out a charcuterie board and even that was hard on me. So, I really appreciate my son and his wife having us over this year. No stress, no mess. I wish I could say no pain, but I’ll always have pain to deal with.

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Have a wonderful Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, my friends. I hope your celebration is filled with peace, love, and laughter!

BAD

Goodbye, Honey Bear

Honey Bear took her last ride yesterday. I wish I could have made her feel better, even if only for a few days. I couldn’t watch her wither away and suffer.
I was never sure how old Honey was when she came to us in 2017 but our vet at that time said she was under 5 years old. I decided she was about 3 years old, so about 9 this year. It was the evening before my birthday in July of 2017. This is going to sound strange, but I felt that my Fuzz led her to me. I had just lost Fuzz a few months prior. The night before my birthday this year is when she first showed signs of being sickly. A week later, she’s gone.
Thanks, everyone, for the sympathy and condolences. I appreciate all of the moral support through the last week. I am mentally and physically exhausted. It’s hard losing a furry member of the family. Even the other furbabies know there’s something off.
RIP Honey Bear 2017-2023 (1)

Number 7

Good Morning, Friends!

I am here to report that Grandbaby number 7 has arrived! I’m thrilled to be gramma to another boy, born April 27, 2023. He and mommy are doing well and back home from the hospital. I hear that big brother is thrilled to have a little brother and my son is proud as can be, of course. This baby makes 7 great-grandkids for my dad. He loves kids and it would make him so happy to have them all around him.

The other day I mentioned to someone that I was proud Gramma to 7 littles, and I was “informed” that number 2 is not biologically my granddaughter so she doesn’t count. That’s about as effing ignorant as Marjorie TrailerTrash Green telling a step-mom that she’s not a real mom. It takes more than biology to make a mom. Don’t we say that about men being a father? That it takes more than blood to make a good dad?! Same concept.

Anyway, I informed the person who made this comment to me that I don’t have to explain anything to her but for her information, I accepted number 2 as my granddaughter before I knew she was not my granddaughter by blood. I told her it doesn’t matter to me that my son is no longer with her mother. DNA doesn’t matter. Number 2 is still my granddaughter because of the love and bond that formed between us during the years that my son and her mother were together. DNA doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it! She and I still have a special bond that will never die. She’s still my granddaughter and she calls me Gramma. Nothing else matters.

As for Marjorie TrailerTrash Green, I wish someone would stuff a sock in her mouth to shut her up. She says the most ignorant things! If you don’t agree then you’re not paying attention.

On that note, I’ll close this post. Otherwise, I’ll be ranting for hours. Have a great week, everyone.

aunt-debbie