This time, I thought, I won’t get caught short. This time, I’ll plan for every failure, prevent every lapse. I forgot the universe is the school mean girl, savaging your every success. I took Willie and Indy for a driving evaluation. This is long overdue. I have refused to be in a car…
Remember last week? When I said I try to alternate who I talk about? Well everyone in those posts has taken a stand against me. Against my guiding principles. It’s almost like they contest the things I’ve said about them. Which is weird. It’s all true. It all started ten days ago….
To paraphrase the Beastie Boys, I got this thorn in my side. Last week, I promised you a story about my mother. It won’t be as contrite as my story about Don. It’s rarely good news when the phone rings at six in the morning, right? I mean, Ed McMahon isn’t calling that…
Willie hates me. I have become Moriarty to her Sherlock; Q to her Picard, Thanos to her Avengers. I am all that is wrong in her world. Worse, I delight in hastening the demise of her independence. Ooh! I am Khan to her Kirk! How could I have missed that one?!…
I’m going to need you to believe me when I tell you I didn’t buy that Alexa to make Willie crazy. It’s just been an unexpected perk. I set up an Alexa for Willie and Indy. It seemed ingenious at the time. They’re constantly forgetting appointments. And grocery lists! I thought Alexa could help…
You know my story, that five years ago next week my mom nearly died. It was six weeks in the hospital and a year and a half to recover. I no sooner breathed a sigh of relief at that 18-month slog when my dad told me his left hand had begun to shake and…
Moving Day finally approached. We – my parents, brother, and I – spent my birthday, a Saturday, packing as much as we could. The movers were set to arrive that Monday. The movers were a one-shot deal, the better to save money. In case you’re wondering – yes. Packing up your childhood home on…
I’m not sure how many “parts” the story of my parents’ move will have. It is, to be sure, my parents’ tale, although I’ll do the telling. Like my parents, this story is not neat and tidy, as I would have it – and them – be. But then they’d tell you that I’m obsessive,…
So my dad had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, both my parents were aging, and my mom fell down steps constantly even when she was 30. It was time to move. Smaller, safer digs. I therefore spent most of 2019 helping my parents move from their house to an independent living apartment. Let me rephrase…
Indy and Willie’s new apartment is, by design, small. Open floor plan. Kitchen, living room, dining room. Bookend bedrooms, a full bathroom in each. I can cross the whole apartment in thirty steps. Fifty, if I’m being generous. Standing in the entryway hall, I can see the entirety of their space. So I…