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From the moment we’re born we start to die
Makes a person think. Every day we’re dying a little more. Soon we’ll just be vague memories…a droplet in the ocean of time.
My Grandpa died this week. He was 89. He had been in a care home for a while…maybe over a year or so along with my Grandma. They both have Alzheimer’s. Apparently my Grandma doesn’t understand that Grandpa is gone. Maybe it’s best. They were always together and I can’t imagine how long she would last knowing that her partner in life is no longer.
My grandparents raised 4 kids and worked all their lives to have enough money for their retirement. In fact that’s all they ever did…work and save so that they wouldn’t need to be dependant on other people when they were too old to work anymore. It’s a shame how despite that they have ended up in a care home.
My Grandma has the best sense of humor. Dry, wicked wit, usually followed by a knowing wink to let you know she knows she is being naughty. Last time I saw her she knew who I was but kept asking me if I was married. She seemed fine when I told her I was and had been for 15 years. She said that was good, like she was happy I’d found someone to share my life with like she had found Grandpa. Even then she was joking around.
Grandpa was looking very frail the last time I saw him. He still had his great smile but seemed a little lost during the conversation. He was in the Navy as a young man. He had a very strong sense for business and owned and operated a Husky station (gas) for many years after being a truck driver delivering gas. I didn’t see his joking funny side until much later in life. I think that as they both aged they somehow became softer versions of themselves. Less likely to judge or be critical. More likely to listen with heart and understanding. I loved to visit them and get them bring out their old photo albums and listen to their stories. Their eyes would light up and they’d laugh remembering all the times…the times when they were young. The last time I saw them like this was before they went into the home. Afterward they had no more possessions. Everything was split amongst the kids and grandkids. Each piece of memory losing some of it’s value as it passed hands.
I read a story in the paper today about a woman who wrote a play about her husband dying and then her daughter shortly thereafter and how she coped with the loss. She said she didn’t believe people went anywhere after they died…but then added with a slight smile…maybe they go to Europe. If that’s the case I hope you’re having a great time in some little pub somewhere Grandpa…maybe playing some poker with some buddies…like you used to do.
The Not-so-Celebrated Spring Poopapalooza Festival is On!
Warning: if you have a feeble stomach this post may not be for you
Well it’s finally getting warm here…the snow is all melting…not much left. Spring is almost upon us. The flowers are starting to come out…the air smells fresh…the world is lovely and new. Ahhhhhhhhhh…….
Then comes Poopapalooza. A common but-not-too-talked-about celebration after winter for lazy dog owner’s they experience right in their own backyards.
I started our celebrations this week. I put on my festival outfit… big boots, gloves, shovel and a small scooper in hand and lots of plastic garbage bags. I opted out for the face mask…don’t need to overdo the festival costume and come off looking garish.
The Queen of our annual festival…Ms. Mitsou doesn’t look like she has super poopy capacity here…but after about 6-8 weeks of not picking up in the backyard due to snow cover I can assure you it seems more like I’m picking up after an elephant than a little pug. She more than deserves her title of reigning festival Queen. I’ve picked up 4 times her weight in crap so far and it’s not over yet. I figure I’ve got at least one more "parade of poop" with my scooper and plastic bags.
The parade route for this festival is a very colorful bright orange. A little background history on our Queen is necessary to understand what makes our parade route so orange. Ms. Mitsou previously was rather large for her height…another way of saying she was quite obese. Her vet recommended feeding her carrots. 90% of her diet is based on carrots supplemented by 3 other dog foods so she gets some protein. She lost loads of weight and now looks soooooo fantastic darling!…it took years off her age. I think she can pass for a tween doggy even though she is well into her senior years. But…I digress…this combination of carrots and dog food makes our grass look more like a it’s made out of orange clay than grass at this time of the year, and thus our Poopapalooza festival is much more vibrant that most of our neighbors. Whether our neighors are looking over our fence in awe at this spectacle or in horror I still haven’t been able to decide. Who cares? Everyone celebrates Poopapalooza in their own way. Happy poopy scoop everyone!
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