Wednesday, December 31, 2014

MINNESOTA HERE WE COME

This is her latest desire. Something she has now rung me five times already today to discuss, starting at 3:15 AM her time. 

"I want you to take me home," she said, "to Minnesota--" then dissolved in tears and hung up. I was thinking she wanted her ashes taken there, to the cemetery where her parents are but, no, seems nothing as easy as that. She rings back right away.

"Sorry. I just want to go see my friend Peg Harold, she's a hundred this year, I just spoke to her daughter and to Elsa's daughter Sallie and they say Peg still lives in the same apartment across from those two empty ones. I want to go see her, will you take me?"

I've never heard of this Peg Harold but I say yes because, well. Because it gives my Peg something to look forward to. Mama has always said that as soon as you stop having something to look forward to, you might as well die. Besides seeing this friend who's a hundred and whose husband by the way or father helped discover penicillin she said and shared the Nobel prize with Fleming (I can find nothing to document this on the net however, no Harold or Herold or Herrold anyone having zip to do with penicillin, so wires are, yet again, crossed somewhere) --my mother also wants to see her old house where she grew up in Kasson and go to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester where she once worked (and where I may well leave her).

"Okay, Mama. If that's what you want, I'll try and make it work. I'm not sure January would be the ideal time to go to Minnesota though."

"Oh no no no--certainly not! We'll go in the spring."

So. Right. Spring it is. About the time the builders start on the Peg Hutte in the garden and I will need to be here or Denis will answer Builders' Questions incorrectly and I'll come home to say "Honey, why's there a door opening onto the hedge?"

Anyhow, by Phone Call Number 4 Peg  has had this "marvellous idea": Alex and Denis should come with us to Minnesota! Because "it will be a lot of fun" and "be the making" of Alex.  

I nixed this idea right off. 

Though admitted I would indeed need help, that it's difficult enough on my own negotiating Peg into Price Chopper let alone the Mid-west. Her thinking, incidentally, is to go by train to Chicago, from I suppose Penn Station in NY, and in Chicago we change trains (already wishing you were coming too?) and then rent a car in Minneapolis. Having schelpped her walker(s) and nine million bags in and out of taxis and trains for two days. The other possibility is of course to fly, mostly because airport security is fun to wheel old people through. Or we could rent a semi and drive there, stopping en route to visit "fans" and use their bathrooms.

By the fifth call she's asking my permission to ask her friend Steve to come along. I said sure. Having looked after his own mother for ten years he's a whiz with catheter bags. What I'm hoping is that by 2015, which is in about ten hours, we will have invited enough Minnesota enthusiasts along to fill a Greyhound and we can all sing "The Wheels On The Bus" and Simon & Garfunkle's "Homeward Bound" the whole way.
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Seems she dismissed Dominick and in fact all the staff yesterday. "I've had it!" she said. "I run this place!" She stayed alone all night. And survived to tell the tale of Old Peg Harrold and Her Penicillin Connection.

More worrying, is she keeps referring to my father as if he were still there--which of course he is, in ash form, 80% of him in the garden where I scattered him last August and the other 20% still in the brown plastic box from the funeral home, something I hear is currently being used on the dining room table to prop up the centrepiece, a model of the house I grew up in in Fairfield, hope this didn't put too many dinner guests off their Xmas pudding.

"You know what Daddy said to me last night," she asks,  "when he got up to go to the bathroom?"

"Er…no. What, Mama?"

"Well, when I said 'What am I going to do without you!" he said, laughing a bit, "Well, I suppose you should get married again!' Wasn't that cute?"

WISH ME LUCK OVER THERE NEXT MONTH.


Wednesday, December 24, 2014

WONDERING IF ITS ALL WORTH IT

Peg's had her gay fan Steve from Florida visiting for five days so I haven't heard from her, not counting her ringing me by mistake at midnight yet again. I get the full report however, from Bonnie. And I hope everyone will be as pleased as I was to learn that Peg is once more out of printer ink and has put in an order at Staples for another $300 worth. Partially my fault, as I didn't get to Steve in time to warn him to stay clear of any invitations to help make Blue Books. Bonnie thought he was napping upstairs but turns out he was out in Peg's office using up ink. Peg had him doing 200 copies of things, full colour glossies mostly, so the good news is we now have enough color prints of fishers and of Peg's old New York apartment building to send to everyone in the entire country and possibly Mexico.

And then she ordered a prime rib from the butchers, which Steve cooked. Peg does not like roast beef, cannot chew it. Never buys it, never orders it. She then bought another one for Christmas dinner tomorrow which Dominick will be cooking. He is working free of charge, it being Christmas, as he and his partner Jeffrey will be dining with Peg, as will Trevor and Bob and maybe their young bit of stuff Ali from Turkey I think, as will Laurie, the artist, miniaturist to be exact, from Cincinnati, who I think Peg would like for a daughter and who arrives in an hour and will hopefully stay  a week or more, thus giving Terri a break from over-night duty.

And then she called the dog lady, the collie-breeder, and told her she wants two puppies in January, so the breeder emailed me in a panic, I told her to disregard Peg's demand, and reiterated that we would like the proceeds from a puppy (about $1000) and not the puppy. Though they are indeed cute. If you like needle-nose peabrain collies.

Last year at this time I was preparing a little Norwegian Julen celebration for my parents, very little of which was actually eaten by said parents, though I'm sure appreciated, in their own "Really? It's Christmas Eve?" sort of way. After which they both choked into their plates on the liquer chocolates from Heathrow I'd brought and I had to swab the table.

This year I prepared a little Norwegian Julen for son and husband, both of whom were about as much help as Peg and Odd were, possibly less, and I am thinking that I am not doing this ever again ever. I wanted to make a special effort for them since I was away last year and I've ended up having to practically turn their heads towards oh, the Xmas decor on the piano, by the front door, the gingerbread personalized hearts--before any of it gets noticed. Plus questions like "Why are you cooking a ham?" or "Who are the cookies for?" are starting to get up my nose, big time, and I seem to be saying "Because it's fucking Christmas, okay!" a lot.

Next year I want to spend Xmas in Norway. They celebrate for about 10 days, nothing but food and cakes and cookies and waffles and so on for ten days. I could get into that.

Now we're all off to the Anchor, the local, for dinner and a Christmas sing-a-long with DK at the keyboard at 9:00 PM with Alex behid the bar and about ready to slit his wrists because DK and will do our party piece, a duet, Baby It's Cold Outside, something Alex thinks is possibly the most embarrassing thing any parents could do. Little dreaming he has a lot to learn in this department (wait till he sees his Dad in his green mankini with the holly sprig sticking out of his arse).



Monday, December 15, 2014

POST BOX AND OTHER FIXATIONS

POST OFFICE BOX
Peg is particularly incensed that I seem unenthusiastic about her renting a post box address at the local P.O.

"But Mother, you already have an address, why would you have need of a post box?" 

"So people can write to me!" Peg says, sounding fed up with having to explain something so obvious."

"People. What people?"

"Fans! Friends! Christ! I owe over a thousand letters!"

"You talking about everyone who sent you birthday cards?"

"Yes! And everyone else."

"But--if they sent you cards,  they already have your address! What's the big secret??"

I explained that last November I'd posted on her Facebook page that anyone--fans, friends--who wished to send her a card could message me privately and I would give them her address. I also told her that none of these birthday well- wishers had to be answered individually, that I could post a general thank you on Facebook. Peg told me to stay out of her correspondence and that she would handle it her way. 

I believe--yes--no, am pretty sure I did mention, round about here, that, judging from the way she procrastinates, it was highly unlikely she would ever get round to answering any letters whatsoever ever again and by the way did she ever write to Brook Hart, her old producer's son, now an eminent lawyer in Hawaii, as I promised Brook she would, last April, a letter she in fact started five times, then misplaced in the chaos known as her room, and now I look bad because I promised him she'd write.

"Mother? Can you understand?"

"Why does everyone question what I want to do all the time! I'm sick of it! You have NO idea--NO IDEA!" 

Peg said the money she's saved by cancelling her subscriptions to the New Yorker and other magazines that she loves (so much she's not looked at them in three years) can go towards the post box rental goddammit! 

Time for New Subject. My turn. Getting almost as good as she is at it. 

CHECKING ACCOUNT
It's time to re-order checks, I was told by Bonnie. The idea is we lose my father's name and replace it with mine. All set. All agreed. Then Bonnie says Peg wants to change her name, lose her married one--which would be dumb, because it's linked to all billing and local services plus her Social Security and so on--and replace it with her professional one, which would result in total confusion not to mention be a complete pain. Plus she does NOT want MY name on it at all, despite the fact that I am on the account and have been for at least three years. Bonnie said it was a HUGE issue with Peg and she went on and on about it to the point where Bonnie almost went home. But then, when I raised the subject with Peg, during outphoje conversation, all she said was: "Good idea, honey. Whatever you think." And then she changed the subject.

COLLIE DOG PUPPIES - TO HAVE OR HAVE NOT
I said I thought it was probably better if we didn't discuss it right now. Peg agreed. I nearly dropped the phone.

MY HEALTH
Peg always asks. I told her I had in fact just got back from a local dentist where I'd gone for some X-rays to see what in hell was going on with my sinuses or teeth or jaw or ear--all of which have been plagueing me for two months and lo and behold, no tooth rot, no gum disease, no sick sinuses, nothing, Bruno The Dentist immediately diagnosed Temporomandibular Joint Dysfuntion, meaning jaw slightly out of line and, because it's like Piccadilly Circus right there for nerves, it can cause referred ear, sinus, tooth, you-name-it discomfort. (When I asked what caused it, Bruno asked if I'd been under stress at all lately, anything causing me to clench my jaw unduly? I said hm, let me think. Nope. Can't come up with a blessed thing.) 

"My voice sounds better, don't you think?" Peg says, when I give her the good news I've not got lockjaw or ear cancer or nine million pounds worth of dental implants to look forward to (at least not yet).








Monday, December 8, 2014

CUTBACKS

Peg has suggested she cancel her subscriptions to the New Yorker and New York Times Review of Books.

"They just pile up and pile up and I never get to them!" she says, like this is news. I've been busily grabbing handfulls to pitch whenever she's out or not looking, for about five years.
"It seems silly to keep on paying for something I don't read!"

"Quite. Good idea, Mama."

"Honey, I need to save money where I can!" 

"You're right."

"But I don't even READ them!" she argues, like I'm trying to put the kibosh on this plan.

"I KNOW, MOTHER! I AGREE WITH YOU! YOU DON'T HAVE TO TALK ME INTO IT!"

So. That'll be about $120 saved.  Which will cover two Terri overnights plus one hour of daytime help, whoopee.

Next on the agenda was TRIMMING STAFF HOURS. My idea, but she grabbed it for hers.

"I don't want anyone here during the day interrupting me! I need to get some work done! Cripes, I'm so behind!"

"Yes. Well. I think, Mother, you need someone there--now and then. At least. Maybe to begin with we try just shaving a few hours off everyone's schedule. How's that?"

"Good. Yes. Good thinking," says Peg. "I'm fine during the day."

So I email Bonnie and we discuss this back and forth and back and forth and finally come up with Bonnie'll leave an hour earlier and Terri will arrive an hour later and Dominick and Bob will cut an hour off their days too. Bob is not happy with this but there is so little for him to do in the winter he couldn't really argue. Next thing is, Peg's on the warpath. She woke up at 4 PM and it was dark and no one was there and she didn't know why or what time it was or what day it was, or anything. And panicked.

"I'm so goddamned mad, they can all just leave, that's all, just LEAVE. They're all FIRED!"

"Mother. Wait--what are you mad at, WHO are you mad at?"

"Why did she act so surprised that I wanted a puppy! Of COURSE I want a puppy!"

"Who? Terri? Who acted surprised? Bonnie?"

"No! On the phone! About what's his name. Honeybear!"

"The dog lady? Carol Ann?" We've jumped. Onto collies now. And Honeybear aka Spurn is female, not male. CLUE: she had puppies!

"And when I said you should have Saturday off I don't need you here all weekend she said she needed the money, John doesn't pay her when she works on Wednesday at his office and I'm all the income she has!" Jumped again. Back to Bonnie.

"I can't come to England until I can walk!" Back to her health. "My voice is better though, don't you think?"

"Much better."

 "I have to drink a glass of water every hour the woman said and not cough or clear my throat so much.  I want my dog back, goddamn it!"

And on it goes. Yesterday she rang to tell me, all excited, that her friend Steve in Florida told her she needs a humidifier, that's why her skin is so dry and her scalp. How he can see this in Florida, I don't know, but What Steve Says, goes. I told her to set pans of water over the heating vents but I can see Bob being sent off to Wall Mart for $200 worth of humidifiers that will be filled once, maybe twice, then forgotten. And left for me to dispose of, eventually. 
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On the Home Front, England side, met with builders today re the New Peg Hut in garden. If we are happy with the quote, work will start the end of April. Meanwhile, I am in Gingerbread Mode and making decorated anchor-shaped ornaments for the Anchor and personalized hearts for everyone this side of the A12 plus one to send to the son's girlfriend in Switzerland. Whose huge box of extra crap she couldn't fit into her suitcase that she mailed off to her address a month ago, came back yesterday because it seems her sister in Zermatt couldn't be arsed to go to the post office to collect it, and so it is now under our piano. Where I guess it will stay since no one's answering me when I ask what the fuck I'm supposed to do with it, so perhaps will drape tinsel around it for Christmas.


Tuesday, December 2, 2014

SOME $$ SUCCESS

The good news is that Genworth, Long Term Care Insurance Division, has, after two letters from me--FINALLY sent a check for Peg for $38,000. No letter, no "We agree with you and understand how difficult it must be and want to help so please accept this small token.." no nothing, just a check in an envelope, like they can't wait to get rid of me and would like me to please shut up, which is probably true. This $38,000 is for a year's worth of "home care"at the rate of $99 per day, as per the original policy my father took out for them both in 1980. Which was supposed to be exclusively for nursing home only. But seems I have successfully persuaded them otherwise. Finally. I am now breathing slightly more easily. It will buy us time. Peg time, that is, at the house. Also, she has suggested we cut the Staff hours slightly, trimming off an hour here, an hour there. Am all for this. Anything will help. Outside Bob and Dominick will be annoyed but so be it.

Meanwhile during the big snow storm last week a couple of huge branches fell off the pine tree that towers above the house and have landed on the roof, beyond Bob's reach even on a 20' ladder. So the Tree Men have had to be called, and they were there this morning, costing $600. Will find out if covered on home owners policy. Probably not.
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So. THE BAD NEWS

Peg will not shut up about Why doesn't she get the dog back AND a puppy.

To which the answer is a) because the dog HATES being in your house and b) if Peg is moving within the next 6 months, a puppy, or indeed any dog IS OUT OF THE QUESTION.

She then said she's never been so unhappy and has never felt like killing herself until now. I told her I was sorry. And asked if there were anything I could do to help her. Like a good daughter.