June 30, 2011

As a journeyman through life on a never-ending quest to discover the true purpose and meaning of life, I paused last night to question ... what's wrong with eating raw cookie dough?

I'm standing in the kitchen eating a slice of raw dough (note that I was standing so there weren't any calories involved). In my other hand is the package, which clearly instructs: PLEASE DO NOT EAT RAW COOKIE DOUGH. I'm assuming it's because there are raw eggs in the dough. Wrong! NO PRESERVATIVES. Really? Here are some of the ingredients in the dough: thiamin mononitrate, riboflavin, niacin, folic acid, sodium aluminum phosphate. Instead of no preservatives, the label should read: Too many chemicals and not enough natural ingredients. I'm happy that I lived through the night after ingesting the yummy dough, but hope you don't consider my ability to digest the dangerous ingredients as an endorsement for living on the wild side.

Today I'm creating thank you notes, and maybe eating more raw dough. Danger Will Robinson. Danger.

June 29, 2011

I made an uncharacteristically brave decision last night to remove the bandage on my finger. It had been wrapped up since I sliced off the tip on Saturday morning. I thought it was time to put on my big-girl-panties and unveil the injury, just to make sure it was healing properly.

Mr. B cut off as much of the bandages as he could. Then I soaked the rest in water until the gauze fell away from the cut. I was so proud of myself, until I looked at the wound. Mr. B said it looked worse than he thought it would, at which point I almost threw up. The rewrap we did on my pinky looks like the mummified head of Gumby, if you can imagine that visual. Not sure how we got that shape, but it will have to do for now. I don't know when I'll muster  the courage to remove the bandage again! Not only did the wound look nasty, but it throbbed for hours because we messed with it.

Today I'm creating sponsorship letters, reviewing a newsletter before it gets printed, and then planning a reception for Sandra York. She a terrific friend and neighbor, as well as a wonderful artist who is having a showing on July 9. Mr. B and I are hosting a reception after her opening to celebrate her success. Nothing I love more than a good party!

June 28, 2011

This morning is the burial service for Mr. B's mom. It seems so wrong because just one week ago her health was improving. Her blood pressure was down and the doctor was talking to the family about sending her to rehab for a few weeks to rebuild her strength. Since she died last Wednesday, we just keep telling each other that she's in a better place.

Before his mom went into the hospital on June 17, Mr. B and I had plans to leave for Santa Fe today and stay through July 4. I've heard from friends that the air is smokey and gray from the fires in northern New Mexico. The air is normally so clean and fresh there.

Today I'm creating a grocery list that includes Oreo fudge cremes. Have you seen the television ads? They look tasty!

June 27, 2011

I just realized that I didn't post yesterday. I'm blaming the pain pills, which kept me fuzzy and sleeping most of the day. I'm surprised at how much the tip of my pinky hurts. Leave it to Dr. Mc to remind me that there are many nerves in the tips of fingers. So instead of blogging yesterday, I ate everything I could find. I should have blogged — it's less fattening.

Mr. B and Missy are beginning to go through everything in their mom's apartment. He said she saved every card she ever received. I do the same thing. The birthday cards I received just a week ago are still on my bedside table. Inside the card Evan gave me this year she wrote, I love you more than a homeless person loves malt liquor. I know, I've done the research. Such a random comment. Who thinks of something like that? I can't throw the card away!

Today I'm creating clean closets. It always seems to happen that at the last minute before people come to the house I start throwing things (mainly shoes) in the bottom of the closets. Tell me I'm not the only one who does that.

June 25, 2011

Funeral services for Mr. B's mom start at 11 a.m. today. My alarm barks at 4 a.m. so I can hit the floor early to finish preparing the house and making salads and sugar cookies for the lunch Mr. B and I will host after the services. Mr. B has done his part by grilling pork tenderloins last night. Even though they've been wrapped in the refrigerator all night, the charcoaled scent lingers in the house.

At 6:30 a.m., I'm pleased with my progress, that is until I slice off the tip of my pinky while chopping squash for the green salad. My latest action was not on the to-do list for this morning, so I wrap  paper towels around the finger, thinking it will stop bleeding at any moment. After 45 minutes of nonstop heavy bleeding, Mr. B insists I go to the emergency room and his buddy Keith arrives to take me. Needless to say, a trip to the emergency room wasn't on my list for today, either. 

Arriving at St. Luke's Emergency Center, I'm pleading with everyone who will listen that I must leave there no later than 9:30 a.m. I've got to get home in time to dress and attend the funeral. Amazingly, they accommodate me! The bleeding is stopped, my wound is cleaned and dressed (no stitches required because there's no skin left), and I'm home just as the pain meds kick in. The rest of the day is mostly a blur, except I did warn people to beware of the squash. Thank goodness for the love of friends and family (Kendall, Evan, Nick, Kelly M., Paula, Sandy, Dave and Kelly S.) who sprang into action to make the luncheon for 50 or so guests a success. 

Today I'm creating a blog while high on pain medication. Typing with my left hand and only the index finger of my right hand while holding my pinky upright isn't easy. But the pain meds are good. 

June 24, 2011

The preparations are all in place for the visitation from 6-8 p.m. tonight.

The front of her light gray suit jacket was checked for stains before its delivery along with a freshly laundered blouse. The cufflinks she gave Mr. B when he was a child were returned to secure the French cuffs on her pale pink blouse. The rosary beads he brought her from Europe were located in her jewelry box so she can hold them in her hands. (Missy wants to have the rosary beads her mother used nightly as she knelt for evening prayers.) And although she will only float across soft, fluffy clouds from now on, her children insisted her black shoes would complete her outfit.

A photo removed from our wedding album was taken to the funeral home to show how she wore her hair. Her white, recently cut and permed hair should be brushed back and styled away from her face, Missy instructed, and her makeup should be simple, with just a smudge of light pink on her checks and lips.

Mr. B selected a spray of mixed spring flowers including five roses — representing his mother, father, older brother, younger sister and himself — to adorn the gray steel casket where she will rest.

While the difficult decisions and planning are behind us, the heart-wrenching moment of seeing her – eyes closed, lips upturned with a slight smile, hands folded — is still to come this evening. While we rejoice that she rests in peace, we are left to grieve with memories of her wit and kindnesses to comfort us.

Today I'm creating a safe and comforting environment where Mr. B can grieve the loss of his mother. 

June 23, 2011

Yesterday was a sad and heart-wrenching day being with Mr. B and his younger sister Melissa (or Missy, as she is known to the family). Missy's supportive husband Larry was also with us. Although Larry and I would do anything to comfort Mr. B and Missy, for the most part we could only fight back our own tears and put on a happy face as our loved ones, two grown children, grieve for their mother. The four of us spent most of the rainy gloomy day making arrangements to bury Heloise next to Mr. B and Missy's father, who died in 1990.

The loving mother and son on
Mother's Day 2011.

During such a difficult time as the death of a parent, the comfort provided by family and friends is important. Yet Mr. B and Missy's older brother Gary, who lives in Virginia, is absent both physically and mentally. Gary has refused to accept or return his siblings' repeated phone calls. They have had to relay information to Gary through his wife Susan. Excuse after excuse come from Susan, all meant sincerely to explain her husband's seemingly heartless behavior. As a lioness would do, I want to strike out and protect Mr. B from the added grief his brother's actions are causing. But I think the honorable Mr. B's anger at his brother is for being disrespectful of their mother by not attending her funeral. Everyone grieves and behaves in different ways, and the brothers are so different!

Today I'm creating opportunities to hold Mr. B's hand as much as possible. Giving him an occasional squeeze brings a much need smile to his handsome but sad face. I love you Heloise Pettit for raising such a wonderful, sweet, and caring man. I promise to take care of him for as long as I'm able.