What, Me A . . . Sandwich?

Technically, I'm not.  A Sandwich that is.  The "Sandwich" Generation is described as those middle-agers who are still raising children while also taking care of an elderly parent.

While my daughter may act immature, she is, chronologically anyway, an adult.  But since I still give counsel (sometimes it's even asked for), advice and the occassional approval (usually on her outfit and accessories), and since she and I reside under the same roof with my mother, I count myself as one of them.  A Sandwich.

It makes life . . . interesting, I guess.  If it weren't for having both of them in my day-to-day life, I suppose I would spend many more hours on Facebook applications.  (Like Zoo World and FarmVille aren't enough!  Although many of my FB friends play both games that I do and several more besides.  But I digress.)

Fortunately, my mother can still do some things on her own.  This allows me to get out to shop, run errands, see friends, etc.  But because of limited mobility and her tendency to fall down, she can't live alone.  She doesn't want to live alone, either.

I am "on call" 24/7.  It took my daughter a few years and some maturity to see that, although I don't have to get up and get to a job on time and stay there for 8 hours, I do, in point of fact, work.  Sometimes my daughter causes more work for me than my mother.  Maybe.  It'd be a close call.

With no disrespect to my mother, it is like having two children in the house.  They both leave their stuff laying around the house.  They both look to me to help them with their insurance and other paperwork.  They both take me for granted.  That may sound a little harsh, but it's true.  Who will load and unload the dishwasher?  Who takes the garbage to the curb each week?  Who vacuums, decorates, cuts the cats' claws, cleans the windows, etc?  Me.  Well, you knew that already, huh?

That's not to say I don't nag.  With my daughter, I feel like a wife sometimes.  "Put the toilet paper on the holder."  "Pick up the bath mat after your shower."  "Dirty dishes go in the dishwasher."  (With the toilet paper, she actually set the roll on top of the holder, saying that it was "on the holder"!  Lawyers have nothing on lazy kids!)  She's gotten better--most of the time, not always.  She actually told me that if I wrote these things on post-it notes and put them on doors, mirrors, whatever, that she would remember to do them.  So I should have multi-colored sticky notes all over the house?!  She seems to think this would be perfectly acceptable.  Um, no?

With my mother, she's either forgetful, or not paying attention.  In either case, I refuse to put her empty water bottles in the recycle bag.  They will sit just where she left them (unless the cat knocks them down--then I put it right back where it was) until she notices and takes care of it.  Sometimes she forgets to put the peanut butter (something she uses almost daily) away.  That, too, sits where it is until she notices.  Now, it's not like I stand over her and make her take care of her stuff.  I just leave it to wait for her.

So, there you have it.  I'm a Sandwich.  I guess I should be grateful that I only have one child and that she is grown (mostly).  I do not know how people with younger and multiple children cope with them and an aging parent.  God bless 'em.

Yet More Winter Kvetching

I just can't seem to deal with this winter very well.  Although we've not set any records, we've had very cold temps and a lot of snow this season.

So, this morning (today being payday--or more acurately, benefits day), I get up early to head for WalMart.  Imagine my suprise when I found out it was 10 freakin' degrees outside!  I guess if I checked the forecast more often I would've known.  Oh well, internet said it would be a high of 28, so not too bad.  I figured it would be a bit warmer by the time I left the store and had to bring everything in the house.

An hour and a half later it was up to 15 degrees.  Could hardly contain myself.  When I propped the door open to bring in the bags, the cat didn't even try to get out.  Smart cat.  In fact, there wasn't a single cat anywhere near the back door, which was really kind of nice because usually I'm tripping over one of them when I'm bringing stuff in the house.

I still needed to get to the pharmacy, but I thought I'd see how much it actually warmed up.  At 2:30 p.m. I went to CVS.  It had reached 21 degrees.  Okay, that's pretty good (even if not the high predicted--weird how they still get paid even when they're wrong).  But when I went outside--it was snowing!!  Granted, it was that light, powdery stuff, but . . . still it was annoying.

Well, we didn't get much accumulation, thank God.  But there's always tomorrow!

I am grateful that I got to see the sun first thing this morning.  Even if it didn't stay.  It's SAD.  No, not boo-hoo.  Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I actually feel better in the late afternoon and evening because I have a lamp that mimics the sun.  Although it is NOT the same as the sun itself, it helps.

In a little less than two months, it'll be officially Spring.  Which, in the Chicago-area, means little.  It'll be June before we see any really nice weather consistently.  Unless it's like last year, when we really never had spring and summer . . .

 That's one serious bicycle rider:

No, I Don't Want to Describe IT

I started out my book (still untitled) with visions of an Urban Fantasy with a gutsy heroine and a tough hero.  It slowly morphed into more of an Adventure/Fantasy with a smart heroine and a charming hero.  Now it has further evolved.  As of today, it is perilously close to--wait for it--a (oh, I can't bear to think of it) Paranormal Romance *gasp*.

I shied away from the "Romance" genre mainly because I do not want to write sex scenes.  It's not that I can't write sex scenes--heh--but that I don't want them to come off (no pun intended) as smarmy, lascivious or, worse, robotic.

Now I do know many Romance writers who do not lace their books with ten pages of foreplay and another six of the actual deed.  They like to let their readers imaginations fill that in.  I'm all for that!  I think readers have better imaginations than some writers give them credit for.   (I know--bad form with a dangling participle.)  Better than describing other dangly things!  I have read books where every other chapter describes a couple's copulation and every time is exactly like the first one.  Like that's realistic.  I'm no expert (call Dr. Ruth if you want one), but I'm sure that each, er, encounter is somewhat different.

Okay, that being said, how much 411 should I include?  Well, I figure everybody knows the basics, so I'll just leave them at a kiss. 

More Joys of Winter

Cold and flu season.  Yep, it's wonderful--if you don't mind being housebound for over a week, sleeping whenever and wherever your body tells you to and just generally being miserable.

They--supposed research people--say that the older you get, the fewer viruses you pick up because you've already built up an immunity to them.  Well, I just had one of the worst colds I've had in years.  Still recuperating actually.  It wasn't the flu because I didn't run a fever.  Not that that would've made much difference in the way I felt.

This was no 48-hour thing.  I'm on day 10 and, while I feel better, my energy level is low and the glands under my jaw are still tender.  I probably should go to the doctor.  The thing is I don't want to go out in this cold weather!  Today the Chicago area reached the mid-20's.  Something of a heat wave after the past week.  Just going to the mailbox (at the end of what seems like a mile long driveway) makes my whole body seize up. 

Also, just because being sick and taking care of my mom isn't enough, the furnace was blowing cold air.  We had the furnace guy out three times.  As of this writing, the furnace, with a brand new flame igniter, has been blowing heat for about 30 hours.  Truly a record and, God willing, it will continue.

I've ventured out exactly twice in this10 day period.  Both times was to CVS.  The first time was on day 7, when I was really hoping I was feeling better.  Our CVS is, quite literally, down the street.  Maybe a mile.  After I came home, I slept for four hours straight!

The second time was yesterday, day 9.  I ran out of ibuprofen and, since that's the only thing that makes me feel remotely human, it was a necessity.  Oh, I could have asked Brittany to pick some up for me, but I had cabin fever.  The way I felt afterward, you'd think I had walked there and back!

So today, I felt a little energy coming back.  Yay!!  When I was getting dressed (I  get dressed every day, even when I'm sick--unless I'm incapacitated), I planned a couple of chores I wanted to get done, including putting clean sheets on my bed.  Well, at breakfast, my mom tells me the bar attached to her bed broke.  Broke?!  It's a metal bar, unless you're Mr. Universe, how do you break that?  So, after I eat of course, I check it out.  A bolt had come out.  No big deal.  I go to my trusty toolbox and find exactly ONE Philips' screwdriver.  Where the heck are all my screwdrivers?  OK, I'll look into that later.  At least the one I found was a good size.  Back to her bedroom.   I need to move the mattress so I can get at the frame to reinsert the bolt.  This mattress is heavy even when I'm well.  Today it was almost immovable.  Finally, I get the bolt in and tightened as best I could, which was pretty good since frustration had given me a shot of adrenaline.  Then I notice that the straps that hold the bar frame to the box spring are loose.  Have to go to the other side of the bed to tighten them.  I try to find a place to kneel down over there, but the floor looks like a movie studio floor.  There must have been a half dozen wires or cables.  Once I get the straps tightened, time to put the mattress back.  I'd stood it on end so all I had to do was push it to fall back in place.  Hah!  There was a 12-pound cat perched on top of it by this time and she had no intention of moving.  All 18 of her claws were securely anchoring her to that spot.  After several minutes of cajoling, I lured her down by cracking open the window by her favorite tree.  To give credit where credit is due, the birds and squirrels actually did the luring.  Great! Just push the mattress over and it'll fall into place.  Wrong! The bottom slid as it fell and it landed half off the box spring.  More pushing, pulling and grunting (there may have been some nasty words uttered, but they were huffed under my breath--didn't have the energy to speak audibly) and, at last, the mattress is in place.  My mom can't bend and stretch well enough to put the bottom sheet on her bed, so  I did that for her.  Ended up putting the top sheet on, too.  Tabitha (same cat as referenced above) thinks sheet placement is great fun.  The whole lift, snap and settle thing just sends her into paroxysms of joy.  After that, it really was no big deal to put the blanket back on the bed.

I redefined the word "exhaustion."

Just another day in my crazy life.  Oh!  I forgot to mention, I've been doing laundry all day, too.  And I have more than usual because it's been well over a week since I last did it.  I still have one more load to do :-(

I think I'll just change the pillowcase and leave it at that.  Or maybe I'll just lay a clean one on top of the pillow...