Random Thoughts

" A vacation is having nothing to do and all day to do it in. " Robert Orben After a whole post around the word "ubiquitus" I thought I was on a roll; that I'd finish up the alphabet and this month of letter postings and be able to move on to .... what? Numbers? I didn't realize it would be so difficult to write about V. Last Saturday I was caught between a "v"olley of "v" words. Like listening to a tennis match and hearing the thwack of the racket against the ball, then the swoosh of the ball over the net and it's kathunk as it hit the ground, for a few intense minutes I was caught in "v"eritable firefight of v's. My sweetie and my daughter were on a roll and I didn't have a pen to write the words down. Velocity, victim, voodoo, vagina, (No! I've already written about genitalia, I'm not going to resort to my own Vagina monologue! For this I'm sure you are grateful!) Vishnu, venial, Viking .... What they...

ubiquitous \yoo-BIK-wih-tuhs\, adjective: Existing or being everywhere, or in all places, at the same time. Ubiquitous is a pretty big word, even for one who tries to use supercalifragilisticexpealidoious in general conversation on a regular basis. However, besides fortuitously beginning with the letter "u" it was the dictionary.com word for the day on Wednesday, and for some reason I can't seem to get it out of my head. That fact alone makes it pretty clear I need a hobby! There are other "u" words that I could try to write about, like "u"mbrella, "u"ser-friendly, and "U"-turn. Yet none of them are quite as lofty sounding as ubiquitous. In reality, my only attempt at using ubiquitous in a sentence was something along the lines of: The ubiquitous use of cell phones has far surpassed my earliest prediction that it will never catch on. The problem with this sentence -even if I've used the word correctly, of which I'm not sure...

I doubt if anyone would believe me if I said the dog ate my calendar. Perhaps a few of my faithful readers would consider it a possibility that a certain black cat peed on my calendar, but that is stretching even the "power pee-er's" ability to soak reading material above his head. The calendar I use most often is on the back of the kitchen door - a good 5 feet out of his reach! So, in all honesty, I have to admit the fairly obvious reason I've not posted lately is not because of some animal's lack of manners, but my own lack of ideas. I really believed writing about the alphabet was going to be easy. Then I hit the wall. Like Humpty Dumpty sitting on a wall (of letters, not of bricks) I fell off and am having trouble putting my "pieces" back together again!!!! I think the problem started the night I was supposed to write something about the letter "O". It so happened that this was the same night that Dad filled the commode with bright red bloo...

P is for penis - my dad's penis! Yikes! Never in a million years would I have believed that I would not only write the word penis in a place where all the world could read (if they chose to), but I'd associate the word with my father. Oh sure, I've known for a long time that my Dad has a penis - I didn't just fall off no turnip truck! But like most kids, even those of us over 50, I don't like to think of my parents as having or using their private parts. It always gets around somehow to the thought of my parents having sex, and I prefer to believe that all five daughters were daintily left in pretty pink baskets on the front porch by a long legged bird that smelled suspiciously of Vlasic pickles! Some of this naivete was dissipated in the waning years of my mom's life. As I was responsible for helping mom in and out of the shower and on and off the toilet, the care and upkeep of her privates was strictly utilitarian. After the first tremulous meeting, I was able...

Q would have to be for feeling a little "queasy." I believe I've mentioned before that when a person I love is being treated for a medical emergency where blood is a very real consequence, I sometimes get a little light headed. The lights get shimmery, the temperature in the room goes up by ten degrees, and the sterile curtained cubicle begins to slowly spin. I don't know for sure, because I am usually asked to leave the room as the color begins to leave my face, but I suspect the way to prevent this from happening is either to put my head between my knees and count to 100 as I concentrate of breathing in and out, or, worst case scenario, actually concentrate on the procedure being done - stand outside myself and think of it as a science experiment . This is not easily done when the experiment is being performed on my dad's willy. I chose instead, as I rubbed a sore spot onto his thin-skinned forearm, to focus all my attention on the screamer in the other room! Th...

Keeping with this theme, R is for recovery. The good news is that the afroementioned blood was not coming from my Dad's bladder. It appears to have been the result of a procedure done earlier in the week. More penis woes of which I won't go into. With the exception of some burning when he tinkles - duh!! - Dad seems to be okay inspite of the degree of indignity he experienced. I, on the other hand, took about three days to bounce back. I know what you're thinking. I have to say I completely agree with you. It's pretty narcissitic to want to tell you about ME after telling you what my dad had just endured. But here's a little insight I had into world of caregiving. Just a little bit more ... Merry ME

S is for Superwoman on Steroids Let's go back to the beginning of this story. I admit to already feeling a little testy when I walked into the house at 10pm, only to be greeted with "dad, wants YOU." (Picture if you will, the old military poster. You know the one with the scary looking Uncle Sam glaring and pointing a finger at "YOU," suggesting that it's your, and yours alone, loyalty and service he wants.). Then to come face to toilet with a bowl that looked like someone had been playing with cherry Koolaid ... well, let's just say, I didn't say, "oh look, we're having a party!" Perhaps I went into the night's events with a tiny little chip on my shoulder. Why me? I wondered. Why now? Well, Merry ME, because it's your job ... that's why!!! Feeling like you just want to go to bed and sleep til Christmas, is the reason, I believe, that God invented adrenaline. There are just some times, when a person needs to be jolted into ...