The gorging season is over

It’s 10:45 on Saturday, December 28, 2013.  I’m sitting in the dining room at mom and dad’s while they have a morning nap.  We are going to go to the mall they always used to go to so that mom can see the changes that have been made to it recently and buy new underwear.  She’s quite excited about the trip, dad less so, but we will go out for lunch after shopping; I think he’s with us for that.  It’s a bright sunny day, which bodes well, but whenever I’m on an outing with mom and dad I have a flutter of apprehension in the pit of my stomach until it is over without either argument or incident. 

I’ve been checking the weather and ‘drive B.C.’ and the best day to go back to Vernon seems to be tomorrow, so I plan to leave early in the morning as there will be no commuter rush on a Sunday and they say the early ferries are the easiest to get on in the holiday season.  I want to be finished driving by dark.

We had fun on Christmas morning unwrapping the big boxes, tasting the treats from Korea and trying on the clothes.  We had the traditional eggs baked with black forest ham in muffin tins and some tiny cinnamon buns that mom loves.  Mom and dad stayed in the gowns Bill gave them all day and I went for a good walk by the ocean and then cooked the turkey.  The dinner was good, but we all preferred the leftovers on Boxing Day.  I went with Barbara and Terry to The Moon under Water brewpub on Bay Street for lunch yesterday.  The oyster sandwich washed down with a Tranquility IPA was a pleasant change from turkey and the pressures of parents. 

Now I’m back from my last walk by the ocean.  Mom and dad are still resting after our successful excursion to the mall.  Against all odds, we found the underwear mom wanted.  I dropped them at the main door of Sears and parked the car.  By the time I got back, they were already on the job.  Dad had stationed himself by the entrance, where he planned to walk around and rest on the walker as he waited for us.  Mom had decided that she would be most likely to get help from a woman in the bra department if she were alone and old, with a cane.  She was right.   Meanwhile, I went off on the much less important search for two pairs of full size white cotton panties. Fortunately mom has given up on the quest for bloomers to replace the ones she got when her mom died and that she has worn ever since.  She will continue wearing the last pair of them and now has the ‘boot top’ long johns that I bought her at MEC the other day.  All was bought and paid for within 45min.  We returned to the entrance to Sears to find dad resting on his walker, gazing at the forest of racks full of colorful bras. He was awed by the variety and the size of some of them.  Mission accomplished without incident, we drove to the Marina for lunch.  I had another Fanny Bay oyster sandwich; mom and dad ate mushroom, bacon and blue cheese burgers.

We were so full from lunch that for dinner we had tea and Christmas sweets.  Now I’m back at Barbara and Terry’s.  The gorging season is over without major incident.  We ended on a high note, agreeing that we would all soldier on in 2014.  This can’t continue forever.  Sadly, I think mom’s lymphoma is going to be the final straw.  Dad is in better shape than he was in April, but she is weaker; it doesn’t take much to make her breathless.  She still has moments when she says that she doesn’t want ‘to miss a trick’ (she’s thinking only of bridge when she says this), but they’re fewer and farther between.

I feel guilty about leaving mom and dad, but I think they still need some time to assess their situation and accept the changes that face them.  They seem to have a similar idea.  Dad said something the other day about enjoying the holiday and thinking about things next year.   We’re settling for the Scarlet O’Hara plan again.

Mom in the kitchen looking at the Christmas cake and Stilton cheese

Dad in the living room behind the treats from Korea

Christmas socks from Jay and May

Barbara and Terry standing on the floor tiled in pennies at the Moon brewpub

Terry and I at the Moon, not on it

Family Christmas

There’s not much to blog about on this holiday so far.  The weather has been grey, wet and cool.  Mom and dad are having a difficult time, as I had suspected.  Mom is such a determined Pollyanna that she keeps forcing the fun to the point of exhaustion and frustrated anger.  She is so afraid of the fact that they are very close to having to make a change in their lives, which probably means moving from the apartment they have lived in for so long and losing the independence they have always enjoyed, that she is refusing to face it.  She mentioned once on the phone when I first got back from Mexico that the nurse had suggested that they consider moving to a care home but now she won’t talk of it.  When we approached the subject a couple of days ago, she digressed into stories of other people and situations, anything to avoid a serious discussion of their situation.  Dad seems to want to talk about it and do something now, but he’s afraid to bring the subject up again because it makes her so upset that she gets angry and breathless.   Since he can’t use his legs, she’s the one who always did the running, and I mean that literally, around.  Now that she has lymphoma, she gets exhausted easily and because she’s tired and often in pain, she’s quick to anger and dwell on old grievances; this aggravates her nerves and causes her more pain. Dad wants to get them into a situation where they are more cared for, but when mom feels fine she’s sure that they can carry on and she wants one more party.  Dad fell again today.  We were going to drive to Tim Horton’s to get their traditional Sunday breakfast, which we would then take to Willows Beach to eat in the car with the windows open, looking out over the ocean and at the people and dogs playing on the sand.  I left the apartment before they did so that I could drive my car around to the underground parking and wait for them to come down in the elevator. When they still weren’t down after I had listened to a fairly long section of ‘The Messiah’ (Jay, Brian and Cathy and the boys have a fairly good idea of how long that is), I decided I had better go up to see what was happening.  As I was unlocking the door to the garage, mom appeared, wide-eyed, around the corner, scurrying toward me and almost too breathless to gasp that dad was on the floor near the door of the apartment.  Mom and I got him up easily.  He wasn’t hurt, but they were both exhausted, so I got them water and we sat in the front hall until they felt better.  Then we carried on and all went as planned.  The rest of the day was fine, but mom and I ended what had been a delicious dinner on a sour note, an old topic that has not mellowed with age, neither its, nor ours.  What do people mean when they say, “blood is thicker than water”, with the implication that that’s a good thing?  I’ve never understood that expression, but if it has anything to do with clogging the arteries and veins and giving you a crashing headache, perhaps I have a sense of it now.  I think I’d like a big glass of clear, cool water.  If it weren’t for my mornings of hazelnut coffee and blowing off steam with Barbara and Terry, I’d have popped a gasket by now.  Mom and dad have each other, and I’m happy for them that they do; they’re a formidable duo, but it’s going to take both engines pulling together as never before to get them through this. 

Our 'Big Box' Christmas.  Jay, Bill and Linda all sent our gifts in big boxes that dwarf the poinsettia tree.

Crows in the mist at Willow's Beach.  There were so many crows on the beach, in the trees, in the air, on the power lines, in the road and everywhere that it was more than a 'murder'; it was deafening hoard of crows.

More crows

One last crow

Nelson Mandela died this week

Nelson Mandela died this week.  He was born one year before dad was.  He was imprisoned in 1962, when I was in grade 12, before JFK was assassinated.  He was not released until 1989, when Jay was 8 years old.  He spent 27 years as a prisoner of the S. African apartheid government.  All the years that I went to university, traveled in Europe and N. Africa, returned to Thunder Bay and university, met Jim, married him, taught, we built our first home and had Jay, who lived for ¼ of his life, Nelson Mandela was in jail on Robben Island and then on the mainland.  He came out after all this time, the whole center of my life, with his resolve that his people should live as equals in a free democratic country undiminished and with his vitality that had once vented itself in violence miraculously still strong but now directed toward reconciliation. What a rare human being.  No wonder the world is mourning his passing and celebrating his achievement.  We might not look upon his like again; we can only hope that some of us who follow will carry on small parts of the great burden of humanity, justice and good humor that he bore so bravely.

It’s cold here, but we skied today.  As usual, it was wonderful to be out in the cathedral of tall snow-cloaked spruce.  It was perhaps -12 but with no wind, so by keeping moving, we were never cold.  I’m trying to ski whenever possible between baking and preparing for Christmas in Victoria.  Since I first posted this it has warmed up and I have skied a few times again in the glorious landscape of Sovereign and Silver Star.  I will go up once more on Sunday and then begin final packing for the trip to Victoria.  Mom and Dad phoned on Friday to say that the now traditional BIG BOX from Jay in Korea had arrived.  We are all excited about this Christmas in spite of or perhaps because of the fact that it might be our last one together in mom and dad's place.  We will see what 2014 presents us with, but they are both increasingly frail and are now considering a move to a nursing home.  

Yesterday's trail at Silver Star

Another scene from Silver Star

The peace that passeth understanding

More Mexico

This has turned out to be my second ‘shanks mare’ holiday of 2013, Beijing with Jay and now Vallarta.  I swam in the Pacific every day in La Penita with Barb, but here in PV I’ve only been in the pool once.  I’ve walked miles; however, to 4 dentist appointments with Dr. Adan Noel Michel Brixon, which have resulted in 2 crowns; to the jeweler’s, Diamante Azul, 3 times to have Jay’s medal altered, my grandmother’s ring strengthened and a pair of gold earrings made and to meet Dick and Ellen for 2 dinners, a breakfast and a shopping trip to the Sat. market at Lazaro Cardenas Park.  Other walks have been more aimless tours of the town to see what’s changed and what hasn’t.  The Emiliano Zapata market is still thriving up east of Insurgentes around Cardenas, a good place to buy fruit and vegetables.  The small Spanish tapas place is still on Mina, but I didn’t eat there because I couldn’t quite make myself do it alone.  I have no trouble being in coffee shops and some restaurants by myself; in fact, I enjoy eating quietly, looking around.  I don’t even need to have a book to pretend to be reading, but I couldn’t do it there where service is so slow and the atmosphere so intimate.  A Page in the Sun coffee shop has moved from Olas Altas to Madero, on the north side of Lazaro Cardenas Park.  As it’s a book trading and coffee shop and its new location doesn’t seem to be quite as desirable as the old one, I wonder if that says something about the replacement of books by ereaders and ipads.  I was looking for it because I had finished the book I started at Barb’s and I’ve almost finished Mansfield Park, the book I brought with me form Vernon.  My flight home is going to be long, from PV to Regina to Calgary to Kelowna, so I don’t want to be bookless.  I found a new coffee shop, Dee’s Coffee Company, just up from the ocean, past the big new pier near the south end of the Malecon.  I began the mornings at first by buying a tamale from the woman who sets up her stand at about 7:30 am on the street just below my hotel and then going in search of coffee and a shady spot to sit by the ocean and enjoy both.  Now that I’ve found Dee’s, I always get coffee there and sometimes also one of her muffins or buns.  She’s originally from Calgary, and all the things in her shop are delicious.  Her coffee has been voted best in PV 7 times, and I can see why.  There’s another good place to eat in the Olas Altas area; it’s called Salud, Good Food.  I’d eaten there before, but different people own it now.  The centre of good eating seems to be shifting to the Olas Altas area, as is the shopping.  I think it’s the influence of the gay crowd and the moneyed condoites in Conchas Chinas.  Am I right or am I left? 

Jay says it’s getting cold in Korea, and the emails from Vernon mention that next week is going to be cold, so I’d better soak up as much heat as I can to keep the batteries going through December.  As it is I’m sitting in my room ‘glowing’ as mom would say, and that’s because I’m merely typing.  If I even walk slowly on the shady side of the street, I begin to drip within 2 minutes, but I guess I’d better do it or I’ll wish I had when I get home.  But I don’t like it.  I prefer cool weather and quiet.

I forgot how I’d ended this entry this afternoon.  It’s now about 9:30 pm, and I feel completely differently.  This is the first of 3 Sundays when Juarez Street is closed to traffic at 5pm and the parades to the Cathedral to honor the Virgin of Guadalupe begin around 6.  I had forgotten about this, but on my way to Dick and Ellen’s at around five, I asked a guy sitting on the street corner why Juarez was closed to traffic.  He reminded me about the parades and it all came back.  We enjoyed these evenings many times in the past.  I continued walking along the Malecon to Dick and Ellen’s for our final margaritas and snacks before taking a taxi together through the tunnel to the restaurant La Bruja in Carranza.  After sharing shrimp and chicken fajitas and some Pacificos, we said our final good byes.  They took a taxi home, and I began to walk, warmed by the meal and their wonderful company and cooled by the breezes sweeping down from the Sierra Madres.  Everything about Vallarta pleased me at that moment.  It only got better as I joined the crowds on the Malacon and walked to the Zocalo where all was bright lights, music, dancing and food galore.  Full as I was, I couldn’t resist a piece of pecan pie.  Juarez was alive with people and stands selling tacos, tomales, popcorn and crepes, etc., etc..  I was in time to see the last pilgrims stride past still chanting encouragement to each other on their way to the Cathedral.  How could I ever make a negative comment about this land of papaya, cilantro, limes, lovely children, easy-going adults, waves rushing over rumbling rocks, pelicans and sunsets.  Ask me at noon tomorrow on my way to the airport and I may come up with something, but tonight I say again, Viva Mexico. 

The fisherman again with his loyal dog and pelicans but no fish yet

Drinks with Dick and Ellen at their place

These Christmas decorations on the Malacon look a bit cheesy in the light of day, but against the black night they're brilliant