Table and Hairs

I have Mood Hair. The blond streakies just weren't me. Mom had some hair thing that had a comb and wires and hair and strange stuff. I never could figure out how to wear it for real, and I don't know if it ever came out in the light of day, but it is my new color. [If you have been to Mom's, this hung out in the middle of the sinks in her bathroom.] I brought it today and asked Gina to match this. [She said I was the first person to bring hair to match.] It is more brownish red with some blond highlights. It is closer to how I normally think of my hair. In the past few months, I have been black, brown, blond and now reddish brown. You would think my hair would just be so mad it would just fall out at this point.

Now for the table side of this. I have finally cleaned off the kitchen table. It has been covered with cards and thank you notes for Mom, plus Zach's graduation announcements. Every time I looked at all the stuff on this table, I broke out in hives. We haven't eaten at our dinner table in several months.

Bear with me now for a minute. On a side note, during Session, I asked that we bring the Communion Table back to the front of the church. [After the fact, I called it a rant.] It has been pushed to the side under the pulpit. I really have spent some time in thought and prayer over why this was so important to me. I ended up reading "Invitation to Christ" from the PCUSA site. They talked about churches that have the Communion Table so cluttered with other things or is away from view, that the purpose of this table gets forgotten. To come back to my dinner table, if the table is cluttered, you are not using it for it's original purpose: to be a place where you can come together as a family and eat and share. And to take it a step more, when you are hungry, you know that when you sit here, you will be in a place of love and will be fed.

To bring this to me, if I am cluttered, I am not being used for my original purpose. And I have been cluttered with grief, anger, and doubts.

Birthday Girl

Mom got her first birthday card today. The pharmacy that did the compounding for the BHR suppositories sent her a birthday card. Just a little background on these guys. Tom Jones Compounding Pharmacy is located in Garner. (They are in the process of moving.) Mr. Jones is an active supporter of Hospice. We wore the same painful shoes. Normally, we would get our meds from the Hospice pharmacy, but Mom was allergic to Ativan [It usually has a A in the name. ABHR]. This particular suppository needed to be specially made. I think I blogged earlier about the day and how crazy this was, but Mr. Jones waited for me and stuck candy in my bag. The card is bittersweet. It reminds me that we will miss this birthday together, but it also reminds me of the kind and caring people that helped me take care of Mom.

For an Early Mom Birthday Story. When Mom was in Charlotte, she thought she was 59. For some reason, Ron helped her with the math and she realized she was 60 instead of 59. I remember her calling me and asking me how old she was. I don't know if she just decided she wasn't going to be 60 or what. I am glad it wasn't ME that told her.

If you don't know, Mom and I had a running rule. This rule came into being when she started dating again after Dad died. - You are not allowed to date anyone younger than me and I will not date anyone older that you. - So if you dated Mom, and I met you , the first question out of my mouth was "How old are you?". Just know, I was just making sure we were in dating rule compliance.

Drink Me. Eat Me.

I feel like Alice. Mom's makeup and assorted lotions, oils and mysterious powders came back with me this weekend from Wendy's. I always liked taking a shower at Mom's because of the rows and rows of stuff. I would normally scrub off the top layer of my skin, my hair would drip oil and my face would break out from trying out all of the stuff in there.

All of Mom's stuff is saying Try Me. The smelly bath power, the blue eye liner and the bright coral blush.

If you see me, and if I am either covered in a big rash, have bright cheeks or some other strange makeup thing going on, just smile.

Ugly Dog and Eddie

Eddie has claimed the Ugly Dog as his latest toy. I bought the Ugly Dog [Look for Ugly Dolls on www.uncommongoods.com. If you haven't seen this site, it is one of my more favorites as far as unique gifts and really great customer service. Trust me, I have a thing for moving boxes and little patience for companies that don't/can't do this efficiently.] for Mom for her birthday last year because she has this uncommon love for dogs. [Right... One of my fondest memories is hearing Mom yelling at the dogs next door in the middle of the night. Barking dogs and crying babies would set her off like nothing else.]

Over the years, Becky (I acquired Becky by marriage. It was a package deal.) would send Mom cards and we would dream up recipes that featured Becky: Becky Burgers, Becky Noodle Casserole, Becky Burgundy.. [You get the picture. Shoot me. We are just not dog people. Some days, we were not nice people at all. You know Mom. You have a good idea about my sense of humor and my take on things. Imagine us together when we are in rare form. Becky did not suffer because I was not a dog person. She ate well and had a good life.]

When Mom was still at home, Doni came to spend the night with Mom and brought Chrissy. Doni would tell me how much Mom loved Chrissy. I am thinking.. Okay, right.. This dog prances in and jumps up on the couch with Mom, and Mom LET HER. She is actually letting this dog lie on the Bear blanket and is talking to her. I am thinking I need to get on my knees because the world is getting ready to end. Doni can vouch for the look on my face. Amazement and fear. Mom was thinking about getting a treat jar for Chrissy. [Mom is getting the DOG a treat jar and I don't have a treat jar at her house. The injustice of it all.]

So back to the beginning. Mom would get a kick seeing Eddie hauling around the Ugly Dog in his mouth. He usually ends up with any type of animal Mom would send in his toy box anyway, so I am not sure why I thought this would be any different.

Vicks Vapor Inhaler

I have spent most of the day with my head in a box. Some stuff I have set aside, some stuff is getting worked into my house, and some stuff is finally getting thrown away. (The 2 inch lip pencil from 1970 and the petrified sweet and sour packages.)

But I found an old Vicks Vapor Inhaler. You know these.. They look like an elongated bullet, perfect to put in your purse for a hit when you just can't walk around with a stripe of Vicks under your nose. Mom and I had a secret addition to Vicks, especially the Vicks Inhaler. Not that we didn't love all forms of Vicks: Vicks in the vaporizer, Shower Vicks, Lotion Vicks, Plug in Vicks and the new Vicks Patch, but the Inhaler was our delivery method of choice. [Dr: How did you get this new nose crud fungus virus bacterial infection? I have never seen anything quite like it. I am quite astounded. It defies all explanation. I will need to call the CDC and you will need to be put in strict isolation. Do you have any idea of how you contracted this dreaded nose junk? Me: My Mom and I were doing Vick Inhaler shots. ]

No matter how gross and twisted this may seem, this was one of my better finds in Mom's stuff.