First, the cuteness!

The grey fluff ball in the first picture seems to be in the catio shelter a lot. Like it’s claimed the space, though the more feral adult cats also use it. Those ones run off when I come close. This one makes sure to be out of reach, but has figured out that it doesn’t need to leave the catio. I just reach in through the door to fill the food and water bowls.

The second picture is of Colby. This morning, I was actually able to give him pets and scritches that he happily accepted without trying to run away. It was while he was going for the food trays, but he stopped for the pets. When I did the evening feeding, he wouldn’t come close enough for me to touch him, but being able to give him such thorough pets this morning is a huge leap.

While refilling the water bowls, I suddenly started to smell something strange. Like … smoke? Not the wood smoke I sometimes smell, wafting in from neighbours that heat with wood. More acrid.

Of course, I was looking all over for a possible source, but could find nothing.

After I was done and ready to head inside, I paused to pet cats that were under one of the heat lamps. Havarti was one of them and, as I started to pet him, he arched his back into my hand, tail straight up and stiff…

Right up into the heat lamp’s shield.

Suddenly, there was smoke billowing out. I pushed his tail out and saw the singed fur. Just the fur. He never felt a thing. Some of that fur must have stuck to the ceramic heat bulb, because that kept smoking for a while!

Worse, he kept coming back for more pets, going right under the heat lamp with his tail up high like a flag.

So I’m guessing that’s what I was smelling. One of the cats must have stretched or something while under the heat lamp, and a tail brushed the bulb. This lamp doesn’t have a guard, like the bigger one does, but even the guard can’t stop something as skinny as a tail!

Today was my day to go to my mother’s, but I first made a stop at the post office. I’m happy to say that I did get my new credit card. The one they sent me in the middle of September – three months ago – to replace my expiring one still has not shown up, thanks to the postal strike. The strike is over but, at this point, I doubt it ever will come in. I’m glad I went with the option to have the original cancelled as “lost”, so they could expedite a new one.

I also picked up my new, 4th edition, of Back to Basics.

The second picture is of the table of contents. Sorry about the flash reflection, but it was the only way to get rid of the shadow of my arms holding my phone.

Tonight, I plan to get my old edition out to check out the differences between them.

After getting the mail, it was off to my mother’s. I timed it so I could pick up some fried chicken at the gas station. My mother’s building has group meals every now and then, that everyone contributes a few dollars towards, every month. The most recent one had meals brought in from one of the restaurants that specializes in fried chicken, but it’s very different from the franchise in this gas station. My mother was not impressed and commented on how much better the gas station’s chicken is. They also have potato wedges with the same coating as the chicken that she really likes. So I got some chicken and wedges for myself, then a second box of chicken and wedges for my mother. She had her Meals on Wheels today, so I figured she could have it for supper, or for lunch tomorrow, as a treat.

I got to my mother’s shortly after 11am. Her Meals on Wheels gets delivered at noon, so I used the time to get a few things done or at least started, including the one load of laundry she had left. One of the machines is broken, so my sister was able to do only one load while she was out, a few days ago, making sure to wash the things my mother needed right away. I even had time to change her bedding before her lunch arrived.

One request she had for me that was rather different.

She wanted me to mail her Christmas cards – but not in her town. She wanted me to take them to our post office, because she doesn’t trust the one in her town.

*sigh*

One of them was a card for our vandal. Which, she told me, had money in it. *sigh* She couldn’t remember his box number, but it’s at our post office, so the postmaster knows what it is. She wanted them to just stamp it with a postmark and stick it in his mail box. Another of the cards was to a relative that live in the town nearest us, and she wanted it to not go to the city first, but to go straight to that town.

My mother has no understanding of how the postal system works.

My mother’s Meals on Wheels is delivered by a volunteer from the senior’s centre, who also does all sorts of activities in her building, so my mother has gotten to know her pretty well. This woman also knows our vandal. When she delivered the meal, she paused to let my mother know that she’d run into him recently, and he’s looking really bad right now. She almost didn’t recognize him. She said they spoke, and he asked her to pass on his Christmas well wishes to my mother.

*sigh*

This did remind my mother to ask about the letter from our vandal that she’d delivered. She’s brought it along with the Meals on Wheels tray. This was almost 2 weeks ago, and she could not remember. It must have been left on my mother’s walker. He’d given her letters to give to my mother before, and she would have remembered that, but he hasn’t done that in a very long time.

We ended up telling her briefly some of the things he’s been doing. My mother said that, the last time he came to see her, he behaved so badly, she told him not to come back. I had pictures of the letter, with a date, so I was able to confirm exactly what day she had brought it, and she simply could not remember. I told her, very briefly, about what was in the letter, and how our vandal has been behaving towards us, including blaming me and my brother for causing his cancer. When I mentioned, I really don’t want to get another restraining order, she actually said, I might have to do that. She gets along with him, but is quite aware that there’s something wrong with him.

Her meal delivered, my mother and I had lunch together. We’d already worked on her shopping list and got that ready, so once we were done and I saw that it would be a while before her laundry could be switched to the dryer, I headed out to do her errands. After going to the pharmacy and grocery store – for someone who yelled at me a couple of days ago that she didn’t need groceries, today was actually a larger grocery list than usual! – it was back to my mother’s to finish things up. The big job was saved for last – mopping her floors. Which is when I discovered she doesn’t have any cleaners. She uses laundry detergent for her floors! When I asked her about it and she told me she used laundry detergent, she asked what I used. I told her, floor cleaner! Well. All purpose cleaner, but they make cleaners special for floors. Which I find weird because, growing up, I know full well she used other kinds of cleaners, but she acted as if she’d never heard of floor cleaner before!

Finishing the mopping was perfect timing. I went to check the laundry, just in time to hear the dryer give its finishing buzz. That was the last thing left to do. I got her laundry folded and was putting it all away, as well as putting away other things that were done with and generally just finishing up.

My mother took that as me getting ready to leave, because she started accusing me, “You said you had all day for me today. You said you’d give me all day.”

Which had me looking at the clock and saying, It’s almost 2:30. I’ve been here a long time. Oh, but you said all day…

…

After several hours of constant activity, I was certainly ready to sit down for a bit, but I did remind her that she wanted me to mail things are our post office, so I had to leave before they closed. She at least acknowledged that!

Once I sat down, though, she suddenly starting getting in on what a bad parent I am because I “hide the girls” and “do everything for them.” You see, earlier, she wanted me to take home a magazine the social workers give her. A magazine we don’t read. She was basically wanting to give us her garbage. I told her, we don’t read that kind of magazine. She suggested the girls might like it. I just laughed and said no, they don’t read that kind of magazine, either (it was one of those check out display women’s magazines). She started telling me not to speak for them, to which I asked, are they here? No? I know them. I know what they like.

Anyhow, because she doesn’t see them (she doesn’t understand that she has driven them away by her own actions, and they dread being around her), she just makes up reasons for it, and all those reasons involve me being a terrible person. Oh, and if I got the girls to do more of the cooking and cleaning at home (which is what they do the most of, already), that would give me more time to be with her.

…

I told her, they do most of the inside stuff, I do most of the outside stuff.

You don’t have cows. What do you have to do? Shovel snow?

…

On it went.

I had barely sat down when she started on this. I’d hoped to get a bit of a rest before leaving, but that was it. I got up and started getting my coat on.

She did change her tune, sort of, and we did part on a more positive note, at least, but it blew me away how quickly she went from being okay, to attack mode. She really does seem to hate me. Or at least hold me in contempt. Until she needs me for something, of course. *sigh* Ah, well. Nothing we can do about that.

On another note, my mother is not doing well. It took some questioning (and it turned out she was telling the home care coordinator different things than she was telling me, which I found out when checking my email while doing her shopping), but eventually my mother said that she felt like she did before she went to the hospital. Which was for pulmonary edema. Given her shortness of breath and swollen legs, that makes sense.

Now, since we’ve moved out here, my mother has gotten us (including my brother) to take her to the ER for all sorts of things, several times, for far less problems, She would end up in the ER, with one of us with her, for over 10 hours, each time, would get sent home and then be angry that they didn’t find anything wrong with her. The one time she actually ended up in the hospital, it was after one of her church neighbours had taken her to the local clinic to see a Nurse Practitioner – an actual appointment – and they ended up sending her to the ER in the town closest to us by ambulance. Now that it looks like she actually should go to the hospital, and we’re encouraging her to use her Life Line, so they can get an ambulance for her (the most efficient and safest way to transport her), she suddenly doesn’t want to. She did acknowledge that she probably should go to the hospital, but she says she doesn’t want to leave her home.

…

This from the person who’s been fighting to get into a nursing home for about 2 years now.

We can’t force her to do it, though. She has to make that decision herself. Part of the problem is, she thinks if she’s gone for any length of time, people will steal her stuff. The other part of the problem is, my mother doesn’t like to make decisions for herself. She wants other people to make decisions for her, so she can then blame them if things don’t go the way she wants. This is a life long pattern.

So that was the state of things when I left. As promised, on the way home, I stopped at our post office to mail her cards.

When I got there, I saw someone at the post office, picking up packages. This is someone I grew up with, like one of my own brothers. Actually, at one point, I decided I was going to marry him. I think I was about 8 years old at the time. 😄 He’s one of the few people still managing to be friends with our vandal, and the last time I saw him in person was at the de-consecration service for our hamlet’s church that someone tried to burn down and cannot be salvaged. When he drove in and parked, just behind our vandal and his wife, I’d gone over to talk to him. I’d recently sent him a message about something our vandal had said/done, but hadn’t gotten a response. When I got to him, he actually started yelling at me, and was really angry about what I’d said about our vandal, and that I should “just stop”. Stop what, I had no idea. During the service, our vandal can actually been okay around me and we even spoke briefly. I had some hope, until he sent another really vile voice mail message to my brother, that same evening. I ended up sending a copy of that message, plus another one, to this friend, with a message that included saying I had no idea what I was doing that he thought I should stop; I hadn’t had contact with our vandal in ages. After getting that message, I got a brief response. He was clearly shocked by the messages, and said he needed to do some thinking.

That’s the last time I had any real contact with him, other than waving at each other as we pass each other on the gravel roads.

Seeing him at the post office, collecting his packages, I went to hold the door open for him. When he came around and saw me, I joked that I figured he would have his hands full!

He absolutely lit up when he saw me. As he came over, still holding his packages, he managed to give me a great big, warm hug. We exchanged Christmas and New Year’s wishes before he left. It felt so good! With our vandal seeming to have turned so many of our neighbours against us, this really just made my day. We will probably never be able to repair the relationship I had with our vandal again, but at least this dear friend is still a dear friend!

From there, I went to take care of my mother’s mail. I explained about the one for our vandal, and that my mother didn’t remember his box number. It was a new postal employee, though, and she said she didn’t know any of that stuff yet, but she promised to set the cards aside for the postmaster (who grew up here and knows pretty much everyone) to take care of. That one card might actually go straight to the postal box there, but the other two will have to go through the usual routine!

Then, since I was there anyhow, I picked up a few things. While waiting my turn for the post office, I was standing next to one of the booze displays (that corner is the “liquor store” part of this old fashioned general store). I spotted a chocolate whiskey that looked very interesting – and it was a very reasonable price – so I picked up a bottle. My daughters and I will have to taste test it, later!

By the time I got home, it was time to do my evening routine, including tending the outside cats, before it got dark. Then I made sure to update my family in our group chat about my mother, then update and respond to the home care coordinator’s email. That no show on my mother’s bed time meds on Friday, after I’d given the okay for the male home care worker to do the med assist, even though he couldn’t to any personal assist, got a strange answer. According to her, there was no med assist scheduled for that night, with a note that this was confirmed with me by phone. Which is the opposite of what happened!

Something went very wrong, there!

Thankfully, my daughters had a supper ready and waiting for me when I got home (which, according to my mother, they never do!), so I could take care of all this stuff right away.

Tomorrow, I’m going to be out most of the day again. The current forecast says we’re going to get a high of 2C/36F, so it’s going to be laundry day (since we’re still running the washer’s drainage hose out the window in our new front door). While that is being take care of, I’ll be doing a dump run, possibly with one of my daughters, then going to town for errands of our own. While I was gone today, we got a call from the pharmacy confirming we have stuff ready for pick up – that would be my request to have 3 months worth or refills done, instead of just 1 month, for myself and my daughter. My husband had something scheduled to be delivered, but since I’ll be in town anyhow, I’ll be able to pick it up – and I can give the pharmacy my new credit card number for their files, to use to pay for any future prescription deliveries.

Warm as tomorrow is supposed to be, the winds are supposed to pick up even more – and keep picking up more over the next few days.

Thankfully, the gas prices went down again and I was able to fill my tank before leaving my mother’s town, at $1.109/L.

Just a bit more running around between now and Christmas. I really try to avoid shopping this time of year, but there will be one more city trip between now and then.

Hard to believe Christmas is just 10 days away!

The Re-Farmer