A very fine day two of the three-day weekend

After using my Saturday off to get a grip on life maintenance tasks, I slept the clock around.  Must have needed the dream time, as I sure felt better, mentally sorted and filed.

Took Dad a cup of coffee, and convinced him to get one arm out of the blanket to hold it.  He was having a non-talking day, but I held the phone so he could listen to my brother's voice.  By the time I convinced Dad to get his other arm out to hold the phone, my brother had said goodbye.  I sympathize, as these one-sided conversations can be draining.  My sister is the only one who can really keep the monologue patter going nonstop.

Dad's become accustomed to holding his arms in the King Tut pose under the blankets.  It's probably bad form to compare ones parent to a sarcophagus, but the description fits.  Dad's pose is partly due to poor circulation and cold hands, so I started thinking about ways to make or get a muff.  When I worked at the hospital (just after the Civil War) there were lots of fuzzy pads and booties.  Then Danger Baby had a fleece to sleep on when he was little.  Don't know what happened to it.  Maybe he took it to the dorm!

So just a warning here, gentle readers.  Should you want to Google for sheepskin muffs, use the alternate word "fleece".  Otherwise you will get a million hits for lambskin condoms!  For now, Dad will have to keep his arms crossed under the comforter.  Indeed, I may shop for a crook and flail instead.

Next a lovely, long catch-up visit and vent with my walking buddy.  What a delight to be friends so long we know each other's backstory, share our temporary rants and long-term frustrations. We don't offer fixes, just unconditional support.

It seemed silly to want a nap, so I headed to the free Basically Beethoven concert by the Fine Arts Chamber Players at Texas Discovery Gardens. Spent an hour in the Butterfly House, and finally got photos of a blue morpho butterfly.  I saw an owl butterfly in flight, another first.  The photos aren't good, but I sure understand  the owl experience.  The butterfly in flight is almost as big as my two hands (not under the comforter), and whooshes by like a bird, or a stealth bomber!

An hour with brass Sousa and Karl King marches, armed forces salutes, and young families learning how to behave at a concert brought back good parenting memories.  I tried to be a good example for a new generation, but like the little kids I joined most of the adults riding Silver through the William Tell overture.

Then an hour spent in the the native plant, butterfly garden, and demonstration gardens with other concertgoers speaking an amazing number of languages.  We all ooh and ah about the same.


Happy Independence Day!

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder


Kim said...

What is the yellow whorl-ish flower? That's a great little photo!

Collagemama said...

That's a Georgia O'Keeffe moonflower aka jimson weed aka datura. Welcome home from Ohio!


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