Saturday, December 03, 2016

BBQed Christmas Letter

Had confirmation today that the awful mangled crazy version of my Maw In Law's annual Christmas letter officially went out a few days ago. It's the quiet before the storm now, but soon my phone will be ringing and filled with the outraged tones of my side of the family upset about my entire family's exclusion from acknowledgement. Shrugs, what are you going to do?

We met the kids halfway between our house and Fairfax for dinner tonight. We were celebrating Laura's new job. It's still at George Mason, but instead of working with employee benefits shes going to be the newest trainer in the HR dept. Big promotion, big raise and it fits in well with her Masters program studies. So proud of that girl. She's fearless and badassed!

It was great seeing her, my son Andrew and Laura's boyfriend for dinner. We had a great meal. I just wish I had felt better. My mrsa-esque infection has moved from eye to left nostril to lip to right nostril. I'm going to see if I can squeeze in to see my infectious disease doc on Monday or Tuesday because the antibiotics are doing nothing and this is VERY painful, which makes me think it's mrsa again. Gonna get them to culture it and confirm.

Feeling like crap sort of put a damper on the evening and once Jim called his mother, the Christmas letter cheerful fictionalist, more wet blanketing occurred. She started telling her son and both of my kids how she was now ready to die, she had nothing left to live for and just wanted to die.

I didn't speak to her, but I could hear her weak frail voice on the phone sitting next to Jim and I'm starting to wonder if she's having either low oxygen levels again, or the common anxiety that strikes the elderly. Since I'm Satan Incarnate to my new sister in law I see no way to ask one of them to take her back to the doctor to check for those possibilities. Jim's going to ask his brother to do that at my insistence. Yeah, we're still doing the whole 'no contact' thing with the sister in law almost a full year later. Better not to feed the whatever she has going on.

One of the things very common in the elderly I observed during my time at the medical clinic was not only dementia, which the Maw In Law clearly has, but this free form floating general anxiety.

Some of the elderly patients had it bad, one lady had it so severely that she was routinely, we're talking every other day or so, in the local ER reporting all sorts of odd things that made zero sense and complaining she was freaking out from stress. A little Ativan injection and she would be sent home. Oddly she refused to take any of the meds the doc prescribed for daily anxiety control. She had a whopping big prescription for the pill form of Ativan and other anti anxiety drugs but it was hell to convince her she needed to take her meds daily.

I'm starting to wonder if my Maw In Law needs a chemical cocktail daily to help with the dementia and attendant anxiety. This is one of the big frustrations of living so far away and not being in the loop of her daily care. Had to push six years ago for them to bring her to a specialist who deals with the special health challenges of the elderly.

But then again I think my mind is starting to go and I'm a good forty years younger than my Maw In Law. Because of my crazy allergies I started making a lot of my own things, like laundry soap, deodorant, and host of other things. I am almost out of soap and decided this morning was perfect for soap making. I crumbled two pounds of raw organic shea butter into my enamel pot I use for crafting, chopped, measured and assembled the other ingredients in preparation of a soap cook. Went to get out my soap molds and.....   realized when I took the empty box down I store them in that I had donated my cheap crappy ugly soap molds to Goodwill last month during that clean, organize and give away we did to lighten up our possessions for our likely overseas move. Yeah, I gave them away.

Guess who just ordered new very nice soap molds from Amazon? Me!

The amusing of the soap making is that Jim saw the shea butter sitting in the pot on the stove and assumed it was butter. He took a taste! I hope it's not toxic.

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