I have my Mom’s Christmas pins.
It was a big thing for us, because Mom’s birthday is December 18 and I follow her by 4 days. When I was a kid, the obvious was always to get her a Christmas pin. When people would give one to me, however, I would thank them, as I was younger, and promptly put it away in a jewelry box. Mom and I would always kid about who had the most Christmas pins.
Last night I was going through Mom’s and found this pin you see in the picture. It’s got to be 45 years old: the enamel is wearing off and it isn’t quite as new looking as the rest.This pin originally was my Mom’s, but I remember that I had no poinsettia pin, so she let me have this one, and I wore it to death through my early grammar school years. I eventually got tired of wearing it, somewhere around fifth grade and it went back to Mom. I guess she figured I’d like it again someday and what do you know-I found it in a box waiting for me to reclaim it.
If you loved me waiting for IT on Monday, well, you’ll love this entry-it’s like I never left.
There are many different facets to my job, as I am sure there are to everyone elses.
After my entry the other day on waiting, well, eventually, IT got to me to assist me with my PC problems. Yesterday, I worked on a different report that needed to be done. My error for this morning is that I returned to what was fouling me up on Monday morning figuring that I can get it out-of-the-way.
Don’t I go to start the sub-division and get yet the same error message that allegedly was fixed on Monday? I remember I had the fore-sight to have the guy attach me to a second printer, where the sheets eventually came out from. HOWEVER, the menu for completing this job is on a different program. The mistake I made? I tried to access it only to find that my PC conveniently can not access the alleged drive that is on.**grabbing my head while reaching for Excederin bottle**. I am determined to get the bulk of this project done today, but , without prompt assistance from the IT guys, I guess quill pen, parchment, and carrier pigeon may be the way to go.
..or so it feels.
They all say care-giving is a stressful job. Well…duh…! Lately, however, it seems as though my normal overload is pushing the limit.
I am normally someone who puts something somewhere and can remember where I put it. Yes, I am also a graduate of putting things in a safe place**insert snicker here**, until I put plane tickets in such a safe place that I didn’t find them until a day before the trip. But, hey, the plane ticket scenario was seven years ago. I have to admit it is quite annoying having to split my time through 3 houses and when I think I left something in house C and then I find it in house B. Suffice it to say Saint Anthony gets a lot of work from me, and one sister-in-law has me seeking the finding power of St. Theresa the little Flower.
On a serious note, I follow dementia and Alzheimer’s studies religiously and try to make corresponding changes so I lower my chance of following in Mom’s footsteps. I really do believe what I am experiencing right now is caregiver overload. I mean, half the time I amaze myself on the things I juggle for Mom and manage to keep track of. So I am not really that concerned, at least, not right now.
If you do have a spare minute and you’re not busy, send Saint Anthony back to me, ok? Got a few items I need to ask him about.
….for an over-whelmed IT department to show up so I can actually do my work. The picture in this post is a plot plan for a proposed sub-division of an area which I am responsible for. I am trying to actually accomplish work and have oh-so-politely submitted a request for assistance. Unfortunately IT is everywhere but where I need them, which is here. Never mind that things are just doing a Hodge podge through the office, with management’s priorities being everywhere and on everything but where it needs to be…gee, detect a trend?
There are folks who actually want to buy these two houses. It’ll be interesting to see if I can get the accounts set up sometime before I retire or the properties go back up for sale.**sitting here NOT holding my breath**….
Yes,it’s that quiet, with the exception of the heater in the background.
I am a morning person-always was, always will be, I assume. Any class I had before noon, I was great in.**mental note to my Mother-yes I do remember that self praise stinks**.Correspondingly, my job hours are early. Yet, when I hit the weekend, I tend to ,pardon the expression, lollygag in bed. Then, when I wake up,the morning is usually shot and thus, the weekend follows suit.
This morning, I am up.It is 6:15 am as I type this. Got up, took daily med,put dogs out in the side yard, paid homage to my Keurig for a wonderful cup of pumpkin spice coffee, the husband sleeps, the heater sizzles, and it is so-o-o-o quiet.I love it. I do admit I toyed with the idea of putting a book on tape on to put myself to sleep and then decided that I would get up and seize my day. God knows, there is enough stuff to do during it, so why not get it started. The best thing about this is the quiet.
I really don’t consider myself Chatty Cathy, although there are times that I know my buds are reading this and saying, uh, sure…Silhouettes of the trees as dawn breaks behind them and I hear the corresponding quiet that accompanies them. Even the heater has decided to quiet down to get on my good side.
“This is the day that the Lord has made-let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
You bet I am.
My birthday is this month. Most of my friends have daisies,rose,or mums for their birth month flower. Me? I get a pointsetta.
It is funny that a plant I abhorred as a kid I now respect as an adult. It is like me: lose your coloring but hang in there, and with proper care, you can have a nice houseplant.They say if you cover the plant with a brown bag at night,from October on, you can get the colored leaves back. I have done this many times and like life, it’s not easy. Some years it works and others it doesn’t .
I have come to appreciate pointsettas.
They hang in there,just like me!
To continue with the saga from yesterday, you’ll remember, dear friend, about my leaving of my cell phone at home.
Thus, the empty hand.
I can honestly say that I remember a time that I would say what a pain in the butt my cell phone was. My husband was always like,” where did you leave it now?..”
Not since my iPhone. OMG! I can now relate to why people make references to “crackberry’ because my iPhone has many uses. It is the time clock for the girls who take care of my mom, and in the same vein, their line for if they can’t make it in, or, God forbid, something is wrong with Mom. It also is my internet connection for checking on or renewing prescriptions, entertaining myself on the train, the obvious phone use, my alarm clock…I can go on and on.
Yesterday I went through withdrawal symptoms. I mean, sitting, waiting in a doctor’s office, with only my thoughts for company don’t even mention the five-year old issues of O. Coming home on the train without benefit of the quiet car and sitting in front of Chatty Cathy.
Welcome back into my hand, Iphone…how I missed you!