So, the last two months have been..........interesting.....
Let me tell you, they have not been entirely pleasant, either. Of course, there is the fact that I got to go overseas for the first time in my life to Okinawa to see my newborn granddaughter and my oldest granddaughter. That was amazing and I am totally in love....until the oldest started crying uncontrollably...then it was time for Grandma to beat feet, my baby Girl and Son-in-law were awesome, but beat feet I needed to do. Of course, the fact that my visit was over with anyway really wasn't the issue, I needed to get home to get Andrea.
I left Andrea in Arizona to stay with mom and dad for basically two reasons: she doesn't have her passport yet and the Kid's apartment was pretty much too small for all of us as it was, add in Andrea and tempers might have flared, especially with a newborn at the helm. Pretty much it was OK for her, she was a help to mom who was having major troubles with her back, and she got to spend time with the Grandparents. I love my folks, they would do anything they could to help out and this time wasn't an exception, but the thing with the Grandparents, and mind you, I'm not bad-mouthing or picking, they are used to just the two of them. Andrea is a handful if you are used to her and even on her best behavior, sometimes it gets a little exasperating.
All my life I have known that my Dad's tolerance stick was pretty short. Bad driver? He's got his two cents worth. Doctor doesn't agree with something that he knows is going on, the guy's a quack. Pretty much, my dad is Jeff Dunham's Walter, with a much cleaner mouth. He even looks like him sometimes. Anyway, you put a bull-headed, selective hearing Downs Kid in his house, and fireworks are bound to happen, and they did...a number of times. Its not that he doesn't love her, its just hard to deal with someone that you are not used to, even if you did get yourself into it. Yup, he volunteered. Open mouth, insert foot, chomp merrily.
Once I got back from Japan, I took a day and a half to adjust to the States again, then I hit the road again and flew down to Arizona to rescue whomever needed to be rescued. My plan was to go in, stay a few days and come home to my normal. My few days ended up being three weeks. When mom scheduled her back surgery, my dad came to me and asked me to stay a few days after to help with mom. What am I supposed to say? No? I wouldn't have anyway, my folks have done so much for me and besides, its my mom we're talking about. Of course I would stay. So, I stayed and ended up there longer than my clothes were allotted. Up to the Dollar Store I went for underwear....big mistake. Just for reference, if you run out of underwear, do not, I repeat, do not buy the generic underwear. Not only are they probably not the size represented on the package, but they are likely not the style that you usually wear. Lets put it this way...they were a size bigger than on the unopened, hermetically sealed package, and they were the wrong style. I was picking my seat for two days until we went into town again and I could get my normal brand. I mean, really! All I wanted was a couple of pairs to get me through to wash day, not a rash from too big drawers, but that's probably t.m.i. Then, I noticed that I was severely short on my shirts. Again...unless you know that something isn't going to shrink, don't depend on Dollar Store stuff...They shrank to almost crop top style. This Grandma has too many miles on her (and the road map of stretch marks to prove it) to show off the abdomen. **sigh**
A few days before we were supposed to leave for home, we got news that my father in law had a mild stroke. The bad thing is that he also has dementia. Having had a grandmother who had Alzheimer's, it totally broke my heart to hear the news. I already knew about the dementia, I just didn't know how far it really had advanced. The news, initially was not good, and I was on the fast track to try to get home as quickly as possible so that Chris could get to his dad. Looking at the flights they looked bleak for stand-by, so I asked him to call our friend to see if she could watch the cats until I was able to get back home. Praise God she would do it for us.
Since flying home was looking tough for me to get here before the weekend, I was pretty much tweaking feeling that I needed to get home as soon as possible considering the circumstances. Now, my dad has a mechanic friend that is always finding vehicles that could use repair or that just need to be sold. Let me clarify some. Mom and Dad live in a village that pretty much is comprised of retired or near retired individuals. There are some younger folks there, but pretty much you see more golf carts on the roads than you do muscle cars, so there are a few cars that are being let go for a song or two because the surviving spouse just wants to get the vehicle gone. I don't know the history behind Da Beast, all I know is that it was acquired by the mechanic friend and offered to me for a song. Only a few minor fixes to be done and it would be road worthy. This sparked an idea, so I said bring it over and I called Chris. After getting the OK to look and make a decision, I saw this monstrosity roll in to my parent's driveway.
Da Beast is probably quite the accurate description of what I saw. What rolled in was a faded mint green 1973 Ford F100 with a 302 V8. I just about swallowed my tongue. I wasn't prepared for that. When I was told it was a 73 Ford truck, I had apparently forgotten that Ford got creative with its color pallet for that year. This Beast was severely ugly. And green....mint green. Ugh. OK, aesthetics aside, I went out to look at it. Dust covered the outside and the inside, but it sounded like a dream. The hood was popped and I looked inside the engine compartment and there it was...the 302 V8, singing like a humming bird. Dirty, but singing nonetheless. I looked at the tires and body. The tires are brand new, still have the rubber spike thingies on them; the discs for the brakes are shiny and new. Opening the door, I see that its an automatic which is a plus for me, even though I can drive manual and do so whenever I drive the Mustang, but the seat....oh, my word. The vinyl is destroyed and the dust is almost thicker inside than it is outside. I asked Dad to fetch me a blanket, asked for the keys and he and I went for a ride. The thing had squirrels in the steering. The thing has power plus. The brakes are not power, but easy to get used to. Its dusty. I like it. Drat it! So back we go and my list of demands comes up.
First, get rid of the squirrels. The bushings and such need to be repaired I'm told. Do it and quickly so I can get on the road. It needs a distraction for the long trip, so I need a radio....here comes dad with an extra. It needs an oil change and all of the other liquids checked. Got it. It needs to be done yesterday.
With the necessary paperwork done, the keys handed over, Mom, Dad, Andrea and I head into town in Dad's vehicle to pick up a couple of things that I will need for the road trip.
I leave the following day in the late afternoon and hit El Paso late. The following morning we head to the nursing home that my Father in Law is at. He looks smaller than I remember and he initially doesn't recognize me, but I got down on my knees (thank God there was an exercise mat on the floor) and stayed there most of the time I was there, talking to him, hugging him and hoping that some way I can get him to understand the necessity of working with the therapists. Andrea and I roll out of there the following day. That visit, in my opinion was too short.
The trip home in Da Beast was relatively good. I found a couple more things that needed to be fixed, but they were minor and for the most part the trip with one exception was trouble free. I got used to the way it handled, and in return it got used to me fussing at it when it protested for whatever reason (usually in the morning when I insisted that it start and run smoothly...what was I thinking?). I got it home and its been ooohhed and ahhhhed over. Sure, its been used, that's what farm trucks are for. But you listen to that engine purr and hear the dual exhausts and you're in love. If you're a classic fanatic, then you fall even more in love. Me? I get to work on an engine that isn't controlled by a computer. Straight forward. Easy. Of course, I have to work within my own limitations, which I hadn't had before when I used to work on my own cars, but I am excited to be able to tinker and hopefully eventually be able to customize it when I'm ready. Greasy fingernails and t-shirts here I come, fibromyalgia be hanged! =o)
I left Andrea in Arizona to stay with mom and dad for basically two reasons: she doesn't have her passport yet and the Kid's apartment was pretty much too small for all of us as it was, add in Andrea and tempers might have flared, especially with a newborn at the helm. Pretty much it was OK for her, she was a help to mom who was having major troubles with her back, and she got to spend time with the Grandparents. I love my folks, they would do anything they could to help out and this time wasn't an exception, but the thing with the Grandparents, and mind you, I'm not bad-mouthing or picking, they are used to just the two of them. Andrea is a handful if you are used to her and even on her best behavior, sometimes it gets a little exasperating.
All my life I have known that my Dad's tolerance stick was pretty short. Bad driver? He's got his two cents worth. Doctor doesn't agree with something that he knows is going on, the guy's a quack. Pretty much, my dad is Jeff Dunham's Walter, with a much cleaner mouth. He even looks like him sometimes. Anyway, you put a bull-headed, selective hearing Downs Kid in his house, and fireworks are bound to happen, and they did...a number of times. Its not that he doesn't love her, its just hard to deal with someone that you are not used to, even if you did get yourself into it. Yup, he volunteered. Open mouth, insert foot, chomp merrily.
Once I got back from Japan, I took a day and a half to adjust to the States again, then I hit the road again and flew down to Arizona to rescue whomever needed to be rescued. My plan was to go in, stay a few days and come home to my normal. My few days ended up being three weeks. When mom scheduled her back surgery, my dad came to me and asked me to stay a few days after to help with mom. What am I supposed to say? No? I wouldn't have anyway, my folks have done so much for me and besides, its my mom we're talking about. Of course I would stay. So, I stayed and ended up there longer than my clothes were allotted. Up to the Dollar Store I went for underwear....big mistake. Just for reference, if you run out of underwear, do not, I repeat, do not buy the generic underwear. Not only are they probably not the size represented on the package, but they are likely not the style that you usually wear. Lets put it this way...they were a size bigger than on the unopened, hermetically sealed package, and they were the wrong style. I was picking my seat for two days until we went into town again and I could get my normal brand. I mean, really! All I wanted was a couple of pairs to get me through to wash day, not a rash from too big drawers, but that's probably t.m.i. Then, I noticed that I was severely short on my shirts. Again...unless you know that something isn't going to shrink, don't depend on Dollar Store stuff...They shrank to almost crop top style. This Grandma has too many miles on her (and the road map of stretch marks to prove it) to show off the abdomen. **sigh**
A few days before we were supposed to leave for home, we got news that my father in law had a mild stroke. The bad thing is that he also has dementia. Having had a grandmother who had Alzheimer's, it totally broke my heart to hear the news. I already knew about the dementia, I just didn't know how far it really had advanced. The news, initially was not good, and I was on the fast track to try to get home as quickly as possible so that Chris could get to his dad. Looking at the flights they looked bleak for stand-by, so I asked him to call our friend to see if she could watch the cats until I was able to get back home. Praise God she would do it for us.
Since flying home was looking tough for me to get here before the weekend, I was pretty much tweaking feeling that I needed to get home as soon as possible considering the circumstances. Now, my dad has a mechanic friend that is always finding vehicles that could use repair or that just need to be sold. Let me clarify some. Mom and Dad live in a village that pretty much is comprised of retired or near retired individuals. There are some younger folks there, but pretty much you see more golf carts on the roads than you do muscle cars, so there are a few cars that are being let go for a song or two because the surviving spouse just wants to get the vehicle gone. I don't know the history behind Da Beast, all I know is that it was acquired by the mechanic friend and offered to me for a song. Only a few minor fixes to be done and it would be road worthy. This sparked an idea, so I said bring it over and I called Chris. After getting the OK to look and make a decision, I saw this monstrosity roll in to my parent's driveway.
First, get rid of the squirrels. The bushings and such need to be repaired I'm told. Do it and quickly so I can get on the road. It needs a distraction for the long trip, so I need a radio....here comes dad with an extra. It needs an oil change and all of the other liquids checked. Got it. It needs to be done yesterday.
With the necessary paperwork done, the keys handed over, Mom, Dad, Andrea and I head into town in Dad's vehicle to pick up a couple of things that I will need for the road trip.
I leave the following day in the late afternoon and hit El Paso late. The following morning we head to the nursing home that my Father in Law is at. He looks smaller than I remember and he initially doesn't recognize me, but I got down on my knees (thank God there was an exercise mat on the floor) and stayed there most of the time I was there, talking to him, hugging him and hoping that some way I can get him to understand the necessity of working with the therapists. Andrea and I roll out of there the following day. That visit, in my opinion was too short.
The trip home in Da Beast was relatively good. I found a couple more things that needed to be fixed, but they were minor and for the most part the trip with one exception was trouble free. I got used to the way it handled, and in return it got used to me fussing at it when it protested for whatever reason (usually in the morning when I insisted that it start and run smoothly...what was I thinking?). I got it home and its been ooohhed and ahhhhed over. Sure, its been used, that's what farm trucks are for. But you listen to that engine purr and hear the dual exhausts and you're in love. If you're a classic fanatic, then you fall even more in love. Me? I get to work on an engine that isn't controlled by a computer. Straight forward. Easy. Of course, I have to work within my own limitations, which I hadn't had before when I used to work on my own cars, but I am excited to be able to tinker and hopefully eventually be able to customize it when I'm ready. Greasy fingernails and t-shirts here I come, fibromyalgia be hanged! =o)
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