On your marks, get set . . .

Warning - random - unplanned - just a conglomeration of thoughts . . .

I am so ready to get home. Home to Austin that is. It may not be home as in where the family is but it feels like home to me. My parents are wonderful, don't get me wrong. They just have a way of pushing certain buttons that need to be left alone.

Some times, Dad believes he has to tell me where to go, how things work, how to do certain tasks . . . he has to be a dad no matter what. I don't know if it has to do with his feeling that he can't do anything so he might as well talk to me about it or if he honestly feels the need to tell me because he believes I need the help. He tells me everything from directions to certain places (it is practically impossible to get lost in this town) to what to buy and where.

I am an adult . . . right?

Other times, I wonder if my parents understand what I am saying. It reminds me of that scene that everyone quotes from "Waiting for Godot." Let's go. Yes, let's leave. (Stage direction - everyone stays still). You get the picture don't you?

We had to get a plumber to come see the drain pipe for the washer this week. The man was amazingly funny, from Louisiana, and did a great job. He also told me that the problem was a part on the washer that needs to be replaced. The drain pipe was OK . . . but the part creates a lot of water in the garage.

Today I set off to work on their washer . . . I did mention I've become Tim the tool man Taylor, right? So I take off the back of the washer . . . and I get the part . . . it won't come in until after January 7. So I put the washer back together. I mention not to use it, that it still leaks.

Dad proceeds to inform me that the plumber did not know what he was talking about that the drain pipe was the problem that the part probably broke later that this has been relatively recent that . . . well, I just had to leave it alone. Actually, after a bit of discussing the subject, I left it alone.

Honestly . . . its crazy around here.

The garage is full, full of boxes. Some with stuff from years ago that no one knows or even remembers whats in it. And the whole bottom layer of boxes is wet, and moldy and falling apart. But it was all the drain pipe's fault, right? I don't want to sound morbid . . . cause it does sound like that to me . . . I'm just not looking forward to opening those boxes after they die to see what was so important that they could not just chuck it.

Oh, forgot, funniest thing . . . my sister took motorcycle driving lessons. Have no idea f she wants to get one or not but the lessons were fun. I mentioned that I would love a motorcycle . . . mom practically fell apart. No, your sister is going to get one . . . why do you say that . . . cause she took the lessons . . . interesting jump to conclusions, mom, ever thought of asking her? . . . no, its none of my business.

Mom complains that she doesn't like to see me drinking (alcoholic drinks that is) - there are nights that it is not enough!

Dad has been getting worse about getting up and walking around. He does have a hard time getting up. Its on a three count by now. On the third try he finally gets up. He also falls asleep in no time . . . and wakes up talking to the dream (which freaks me out some days). Mom has sort of become his mom. And now mom is talking that she will finally retire. That this will be the last year teaching.Wonder what will happen next.

I know they love me, I know it. I also know they drive me crazy some days.

Thank you for listening . . . reading.

And in more uplifting news . . . I am a Great Uncle. Elena Clare was born on December 30.



Happy New year.

Patience, party of one.

Oh I try.

I really try.

I love my parents, I really do. But sometimes it takes all I got.

Today we went to a well known import store ( I'm not promoting free advertising for anyone). OK . . . fine, I have mentioned Walmart before. It was Pier 1. Mom decided she needed some candles. Some smelly candles. Some Christmas tree smelling candles. Some unbelievably strong smelling Christmas tree candles.

Mind you, one candle was enough of an assault on the nasal passages. Two would send you over the top.

She got four.

She wants two for the living room and two for the dining room.

One is plenty. Two is much. Four is an attack. A full frontal attack.

Breathe.

We went to Walmart . . . And she kept on buying a lot of food. I finally asked why not wait. We can get it later. She is so used to not being able to drive that she was packing up for later.

We still got a buggy's worth of food and stuff.

Laugh. It is kind'a funny.

Panadera messed up our order tonight.

I didn't feel like arguing about it. We ordered chips with our plates. Two got chips, one got bread. I gave dad my chips and took his bread. No arguing. Just hungry.

Mom opened up her bag of chips and poured almost all into my plate.

BREATHE!

So as Mr. Brady used to ask the kids after a bit of trouble . . . What have you learned?

I should just try to adapt to them and not expect them to adapt to me. They DO live here and they do have their way of doing things. I just need to figure out how I can adapt to it and not expect them to adapt to me (cause I believe I know best).

Breathe. Just breathe. A lot.

And laugh. Just laugh. A lot more. Cause they are funny in their way. They do funny things and things that, if you don't laugh, you end of screaming. And screaming is not how I want them to remember me or me remember them.

Hug and kiss a lot. If you think it is too much. Go a little more. Cause you can never show them love enough.

And take loads of pictures. Silly ones. Unapproved ones. "ay Ignacio" ones. Just take them.

It'll somehow make you feel better later.

Augh, Augh, Augh . . .

Examine these pictures . . . mom and dad's tv set died while working just fine. And so began an interesting series of events that STILL make me reel.

OK, I was watching TV . . . nothing new there . . . when it just went out. Called cable. That wasn't it. It just died. Then the jokes began, and they were good. "Wow, didn't even have a chance to give (him) an aspirin. (He) just went." "Wow, just like real patients. It had such a good picture and all. Just got better before (he) died." Morbid and funny jokes if you ask me.

My sister offered her old TV set (They recently bought a flat screen) and we took them up on it.

Here we go.

I suggested going to the re-sale store and see if they had any furniture that would work. We are not even 30 seconds out of the driveway when dad said "You know, maybe we could just take out the old TV and put it the one your sister gave us." Why did you NOT say that before we left?

Came back home. Took it apart with dad's tools. OH, dad's tools. They are a collection of pieces found and bought at discount stores that may or may not work and that by now are missing vital and important pieces. All in a Tupperware container. Get the picture?

So we undid the back . . . it is all ONE UNIT. Who makes these things? Bizarre.



SO . . . off we go.

When we walk out, there's the next door neighbor changing the oil on his car. Dad looked at me and said "ask him if he needs help." If HE needs help? I want to be a good Christian too . . . just I don't think this was the time.

So, the re-sale store. Closed. Walmart . . . found their furniture. Black, brown or cherry? Cherry. OK, let's get it. Came back home. And now my dad has a great thought (could he have had it sooner?) why not put the new TV set on top of the old TV set. (Sounds like a 'you might be a redneck' joke or even 'you know you are ghetto when') My sister had the same thought.

So, I unplug, open curtains (damned dark living room even with a large window) unhook wires, put new (well, relatively new) tv on top . . . some wires don't work. Cable does so the important spots are covered. He just tells mom that the wires don't fit and they are not long enough. He doesn't tell her which wires and how the cable works. My dad and his 'jokes' that my mom doesn't even laugh at anymore!




Anyhow, there it is. Working. Martha Stewart on the TV. And some shawl to cover the old TV. Looks like some weird beast growling at you.

At least dad will not have to look down when he decides the TV is too far and he has to be up close to watch it. He can look at it "in the face."

It all sounds so petty now. I was unbelievably frustrated before but now I look at it and see it was damned little. Funny how that works.

Gotta go. Going to The Shack (as Radio Shack wants to be called now) to get some wires so the VCR (Yup, VHS rules this household) can be plugged into the TV.

Gotta love'em.

Ah, parents.

So, I decided to come visit my parents for the weekend. They were "so looking forward to seeing" me. Granted, I told them that one of the reasons was going to see Bill Cosby in OK City. But, in my defense, I was going wether or not I got a ticket. (I have a ticket, BTW)

Anyhow, got home, hung out, and went to bed. Saturday: slept in, relaxed and, oh by the way, we need a new kitchen lamp since the other one fell, new hooks on the door since the door curtains fell off, new light bulbs and maybe some other home repair here and there.

Oh, and dad wants me to look at something on the computer cause it isn't working right.

And we need to buy some groceries and other things for next weekend.

Yeah, they crack memup. Mom wants to much to please me that any time I turned to look at something in the store, she asked me if I liked it. If I said yes, she put it in the cart.

I came by train. That means my suitcase will be heavier going back.

Found out today that my sister and bro in law are looking at new places for him to work at. Other than OKie land that is. What will happen to mom and dad? The thought came to me that IF they do move (my sis and bro in law that is) maybe mom, dad and I can share a big house in Austin. I could ask them if they want to move back, of course. I can't tell them what to do.

It's a thought.

AUGH

Last night I kept waking up and going back to sleep pretty much all night. At one point a Jimi Hendrix song popped in my head (There's got to be a way out of here . . .) and I just laid there.

I looked at my mirror on top of the dresser and see someone moving in the shadows . . . a sliver of light hit it.

I quickly turned to face it.

He turned to me.

I froze in fear.

He jumped on my bed growling.

I woke up.

I wish . . .

I wish I could learn from what I know. Like moments are more precious that gifts. Cause gifts can and will be returned by people. Or they may not want them.

I wish I could change people's minds. But that's impossible. So, even though you are frustrated, you go on and let it be. How they react is not your doing.

I wish I knew why.

I wish I could have an answer every time.

I wish they knew how scared I felt. How terrified I felt at the thought of losing them. At the thought that I didn't do enough for them. At the mere idea that maybe I could have done more. Or maybe been there more. Or just more.

I wish I could talk about it. But talking about it makes me feel worse. Impending doom on the horizon.

I wish I could cry every time I feel this way.

I wish it wouldn't hurt.

I wish I could see past it.

I wish the lump on my throat and the weight on my chest would go away.

Adventures in gift giving

Let's see if I can explain . . . and if it makes ANY sense. So, I decided to buy my folks a flat screen TV. Their TV is old, the colors are blending, the image is not sharp . . . well, its about time. So, we went to Walmart for some other stuff.

We walk over to the TVs. I tell them, "OK, which one do you like and which one would be better? This one or this one? (pointing out a couple of flatscreens)"

Mom: "Oh, don't do that. It is not necesssary"

Me: "Yes it is. That TV is old"

Mom: "But its working fine. Use the money for something you need."

Me: "I need to buy you this."

Mom: "No, no. Don't do that. Its fine"

Dad meanwhile is quiet.

After a bit of back and forth same argument . . .

Mom: "OK, we need a computer"

Me: "That's about $2000. I did not PLAN on that. I made plans for something else. I had it all figured out and planned out."

Mom: "Save the money. Put it in your savings and use it for something else. For your train rides here."

Me: "Yeah, like a train ride costs $350"

Dad: "I think the TV is bolted into the cabinet"

Me: "Never heard of that dad"

Mom: "No, really. I think it is"

Me: "Fine, we'll put it like I have mine . . . on TOP of the old TV"

Dad: "But the TV fits into that cabinet so well. It'll have a space at the top cause that flat screen is smaller"

Me: "Mom can fill it in with her fake plants and flowers."

really, their best argument is that stupid cabinet and a hole?

I tried to explain that what I heard was "No, we don't want you giving us a present. We don't want it."

Finally I told them to drop it. Don't want to hear it.

Mom: "The best present we have is you . . ." (yada, yada, yada . . . I know the rest of the story).

Me: "I said drop it"

Mom: "OK, sorry."

Why are parents so difficult?!

Honestly . . . here was my plan . . . a flat screen TV, plug in my computer (I have a LOT of movies in Spanish), easy and fun TV watching and family time AND they end up with a much better TV.

Side note: At least mom allowed me to buy an adaptor to go from my computer to their old TV.

And a funny note - mom mentioned that they could use a new remote cause their old one did not work. I had to say "Oh, for that ancient TV that you two have that works so well?"

A few things I have learned

It has taken me 51 years but I think I got the hang of some things (yah, right). Specially when it comes to parents . . . and to elderly parents the most:

One, live in the now. Today, after dinner at my sister's, we were on our way home. No official fireworks out here. Too damp and wet. BUT there were some in the vicinities and off we went on the hunt for fireworks. And found some, and got a little lost, and mom freaked out cause it was foggy. And started with "turn around, turn around." And got tense and practically straight out of the seat . . .

Anyhow, just another moment with my folks. I learned that I need to enjoy them. The moments. Them too. Its frustrating at times but I do. Not by thinking "they are going to die so enjoy them" but by thinking "they are a gift, enjoy them."

Two, can't change them . . . the moments or the parents. My folks are basically 80 years old (mom keeps reminding us that she is a little younger than dad) and at times they seem not quite there, or they take longer to walk, or they need those instructions written out so they can do it again, or they marvel at the fact that you figured out how to solve some problem . . . enjoy it. You won't change them. They'll change you. Thats part and parcel of this living thing. People change you, and your folks still have the power to change you.

Three, you will face some tough issues. One of the toughest for me is my own mortality. I am going to live forever (I decided) so I can avoid that thought. Some people embrace it like no one's business. I avoid thinking about it as much as I can. And don't ask me to talk about it, cause I just don't like to do so.

Four, a walk away does wonders for your patience. I'm just saying.

Five, the more she keeps wishing you lived nearby, the tougher it will be so say goodbye (or se you later). Mom has a way of making me feel guilty cause I live in Austin and not in Norman. But I have a life and a profession in the ATX. Some day it will change and I'll be in Norman Town, OKie land . . . meantime, call as much as you can.

Six, call as much as you can. Just saying. Helps to cover the miles.

Seven, God invented cameras, God updated to digital cameras - take loads and loads of pictures. Even those that you will never share cause they show a side of your folks you don't want others to see. They will come in handy one day. They will be amazing one day. And hell, they are digital. Save them on the external hard drive and move on.

OK, so I am not an expert. Just learning. But I wanted to share for anyone who may read this. Or maybe just for myself.