Good morning! I need more sleep but who doesn't? I swear, do *not* get this year's Crud Flu. The residual low-grade sinus infection that comes along with it? Lasts forever, but isn't enough for antibiotics. (I'd like to know when it is. How many months must my nose produce what we'll politely call "lemon pudding"? "Oh, but that was clear, it's just irritation from dry air," says the Nurse Practitioner. "Really?" says Leo. "Clear like lemon pudding! And the same color!" And "Well, I'm sure it'll clear up, you're not running a fever," says the Nurse Practitioner. What does she practice, exactly? How to sound idiotic? Not everyone runs fevers the same. Geez. Even *I* know that. And I'm one who rarely runs a fever. If I hit 100*F, it's like a textbook patient hitting 101.5*F. Every doctor grasps this after they end up treating me for something serious after blowing off something like a sinus infection. Nurse Practitioner? Let's see if she clues in if I end up at the ER. Rant over.)
OK, so... Storytime!
Today would've been my Polish grandma's 100th birthday! And we never forget her birthday. Ever. Ever ever ever. Usually that family only does saint days, but hers is her birthday, and we'll just say, Do Not Mess With The Great And Powerful. Just do not.
Now, my grandma died several years ago, having hit 90-plus as her family tradition demanded, of VRE acquired in hospital after a mini-stroke, and it was ugly and slow and bad, and rotten. My mom wouldn't go home to visit her, even, and I sometimes think my mom thinks that's why my mom's health is gone to hell so "young"... Grandma Grudge from beyond the Grave.
Scoff not. She didn't want to be buried w/o her eyeglasses on. My aunt-by-marriage insisted she go to her grave w/o glasses on. Grandma argued this in her very detailed written wishes b/c "People know me wiht my eyeglasses." So, anyway, it's a month early for snow even back home... And the morning of her funeral... the snow began. It drumped on exactly three townships. The one we lived in, the one between that and the third, and the township where the funearl home was. (We're rural, it took a while to get anywhere.)
Average snowfall rate began at 1-2 inches per hour. By the time we reached graveside ceremony, there was three feet on the ground, and it was falling at about 4-5 inches per hour, and by that point... ONLY in Ye Olde Home Township. Feet upon feet of snow by noon, since dawn.
The snow quit twice. Once when the coffin was carried into the church, the other when we were at graveside.
We left right after lunch, to drive at least partway home to Virginia... We left that township, and the snow went from 3 feet high to ... 3 inches... to nothing, within 10 miles. Also, from Blizzard to ... Sunshine and dry roads.
Now, lake effect snow on the Great Lakes is notorious for this sort of thing. It is. But seriously, we still think it only quit b/c my uncle drove home and got Grandma's glasses and had the funeral director put them on her face before burial.
And now you know why I intend to make sure my mom is okay with her arrangements. I ain't risking that a second time. Y'all got any idea what a damn blizzard Up There is like when it's that way? You learn to skid instead of drive. Skid. Not ski. Because you *will* hit patches of "Oh crap!"...
Which happened b/c the air temp was 40*F and hello? How do you even get a lblizzard without more cold? Well, apparently, you upset my grandma. When she's *dead*.
Ironically, btw, she was a very sweet person alive, just very stubborn. (Yeah, I know, say it. I got it from her and Mom, we all know.) And, after Grandpa died, very happy to get her own way more often.
For example, when they were wallpapering the kitchen, the first time it had been done since the house was built in the 1880s, Grandpa wouldn't say yes or no to anything Grandma chose. So, being slightly passive-aggressive in the time-honored way of women of her era, she got orange wallpaper, knowing very well he hated orange. That wallpaper stayed up till after Grandpa died. Then she agreed it was time to update and freshen her kitchen. My uncle did so. It was a lovely kitchen. He recycled the cabinets, etc., when building my cousin's house. Point being... All Grandpa had to do was say, "The yellow or the green is good", and no problem. Instead? Thirty flipping years of orange wallpaper. And I was 21 when he died, soooo.... Yeah.
Anyway, in honor of my late Great and Powerful Grandma... Have a good day:-)
Although I am a US Marine Vet as well as a former law enforcement officer, my PTSD torture did not start there.Beginning at the age of 5 or younger, I was sexually molested and ritually abused by a much older neighbor. I honestly can't tell you how long this lasted. I believe I have blocked lots of the memories out of my mind. I have lots of flashbacks that will turn my stomach.Like most male...
When the pain aches in a way you just can’t explain and the sadness, undefined, is absolutethe eyes replace our voicethe tears our eloquenceand if the time be not right now then later will they spillafter the pauseremember to exhale ~