Thursday, January 28, 2010

Ode to Flannel Sheets

Oh, I hate to get up in the morning.
When outside it's dark and it’s storming.
Flannel sheets on my bed.
Think I’ll stay here instead.
Only coffee could make it transforming.

One kitty is curled up beside me.
Dawn, through the curtain I now see.
Flannel sheets to my chin.
Fitness class soon begins.
What I need is a dose of some energy.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Then and Now

June 1995

We are just moving into our newly remodeled home. We stand in the middle of the open 600sq ft top floor and look out a wall of windows east to the Willamette River and beyond to Mt Hood.

The 1905, 1200 sq ft home now has new tile floors and counters, a fireplace that works, new plumbing and wiring, new walls, new windows, and a new exterior; it has a new life. My builder-creator-husband has taken the old home down to the studs and rebuilt it to today’s code, using some of the old wood so we can call it a remodel. It was worth living in an apartment for the last 9 months to wait for the birth of our new home.

We have moved Franklin the Fern, on his pedestal, into his 4 x 4 foot space in the northeast window. We look in wonder at the newspaper clippings and sewing patterns dated 1925 and 1933 that we uncovered in the lath and plaster walls when we were tearing them down. We chuckle at our cleverness for installing a drycleaner-style rotating clothes rack in our small master bedroom, to use an otherwise unusable space as a closet.

We buried our cat of 16 years, who died before our move, in the garden to be with us in spirit. We have been interviewed for “suitability” to adopt two kitties from a cat rescue shelter, and will be bringing them to their new home in the coming week.

Happy, wonderful times here.

January 2010

We are in our next- to- last home, 35 miles away from the city of Portland, in rural Oregon. My builder-creator-husband took 6 months, this time, to turn the house we bought into our home. We have been here almost 7 years, different from our previous 20 years of moving every 3 years. My husband’s profession as a builder kept us continuing to build something new and move

We look at horses, fields, and farmland now, instead of the river, but we can still see Mt Hood from the top floor.

We moved Franklin the Fern, now 33 years old, on his pedestal, to his current 6 x 6 ft space with window on either side of him. He is now 7 feet tall, and I have to stand on a step-stool to water him. Our kitties from the shelter are still with us, 15 and 16 years-old, and happy here.

Nomadic living kept my storage areas relatively clear. They are now becoming full.

Happy, wonderful times here.

Copyright Parrot-Writes 2010

Friday, January 22, 2010

Franklin the Fern

We share our home with a 33 year old fern named Franklin. He is a Roosevelt fern, thus the name. Franklin has been a part of our family since 1986 when we became his caregivers at one of our home purchases. He was just a youngster then, only 10. Since then he has made six moves with us and has grown to cover a space in our current home of 6x6x7, yes that’s feet.

He currently sits proudly on a 4 foot tall pedestal, as he well deserves, in a 30” plastic pot in the corner of our great room. He’s a happy camper with windows on both sides. We have transplanted him to a bigger container 3 times over the years and I think we may have reached the limit of available pot sizes. Is dividing in his future?

The instructions that came with him said to water him once a week to the mark on the green watering can that accompanied him, and to fertilize monthly in all but the winter months. It also said he liked misting frequently. We have religiously followed the instructions and still use the same green watering can, along with a step stool, as his top is 7 feet above the floor.

I give him haircuts about every four months. This entails climbing under his canopy, shaking the fronds a bit, clipping ones that touch the floor or have died, then sweeping up the cuttings before vacuuming. It also entails a lot of sneezing. Our two cats usually get involved in this activity too. They seem to think I’m creating a kitty fun house with all the cuttings on the floor. They jump in and chase the cuttings around the room.

Franklin is truly a part of our family. He requires living in a room with the most action. In one house move we put him in a family room that wasn’t used much and he withered away to bare fronds. Moving him to the living room and giving him a lot of TLC brought him back. We learned our lesson - he needs to be where he can be a part of the family.

Our two cats have spent countless hours chasing and batting at spent pieces of his long fronds. Our grandchildren have been cautioned to not venture under his canopy because we fear in his old age he may not be able to withstand their frolicking. He gets decorated for Christmas with golden garlands and twinkling mini lights – a second Christmas tree of sorts. There is no jealously, just sharing the holiday moments with family.

We have one more move to make whenever we decide to downsize. Franklin will make that move with us to another special place in our next home.

In the picture you will see the author, in one of her favorite poses (with wine glass in hand), and the two kitties, Bella and Maya on their cushions keeping me company.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Flash 55 1/22/10

I got called to Jury Duty recently. Here is my summary of the experience in 55 words.

Responsibility, Call In, Come In, Raining, 0845, Hurry, Sign In, Badge On, Waiting, Cough, Newspaper, Chatting, Well-Dressed, Overalls, Black-Net Stockings, Cowboy Boots, Book, Sneezing, Waiting, Move To Courtroom, Sit On Left, Roll Call, Swear In, Judge Here, All Rise, Defendant Here, Judge Leaves, Attorney Too, Waiting, Yawning, Judge Back, Plea Bargain, No Trial, Dismissed, 1015.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Cold Feet

I started my Children’s Writing class today, and after the first lesson, began to question my rationale for taking the class. Yes, I have a goal to write a Children’s book on virtues for my grandkids (not a preaching kind – a story that illustrates the meaning of the word). But somehow, today, I got lost in wishy-washy.

So, I spent most of the afternoon at the library in the children’s section wandering the shelves, sometimes crawling on my hands and knees, and sometimes sitting on the floor, to read a bit from any book that caught my attention. It was comforting to see the books I devoured in my youth: Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, Sue Barton Student Nurse, to mention a few. "The Black Stallion" leapt out at me, and I couldn’t help picking up an illustrated Grimm’s Fairy Tale book, and perusing a few of the classic stories.

I reread “Make Way for Ducklings”, and then spotted “The Secret Garden”. I had never read this "must read" book, so I sat down on one of the bitty children’s chairs to skim it, and an hour later was still reading it.

Suddenly the room was full of toddlers and moms for Story-Time. I relinquished my chair and stood in the back to watch. There was noise, chaos, and much shuffling until the librarian began to read. Most of the kids quieted down to listen. I watched their faces as they became involved with the story, and I was reminded of why I wanted to write my children’s story. I want to create the look and generate the interest I saw in their eyes. My afternoon at the library was a success. I’m back on track now, to make the most of the next six weeks of my class.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Ouija Poetry

We were challenged to try a writing exercise called “ouiji poetry", where you close your eyes and type, letting your fingers fall where they may on the keyboard. You hit the space bar and the enter bar, along with the keys, then open your eyes to see what you have to work with. The challenge is to make a poem out of the letters and symbols that have appeared on the screen. Here is my first go at it:

Keekktoohr ou oof heaa
Hooo srae ;;ejthhhsmng
So wit hooeht

Kicking at the roof of my heart,
You stare with edgy messaging.
So taken with yourself.
Just jesting perhaps.
Apparently the joke is on me.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Writing Prompt - Have you ever thrown something away and later realized it was a mistake?

I threw away my confidence, not once, but on a number of occasions. I let someone else convince me I was wrong, or didn’t have enough information to make the decision I was about to make. It was all about posturing, and to some degree intimidation. After all, I was female, and too compassionate, too easy, too old-fashioned, too unwilling to change for some. The decisions being made were monumental for the people who would have to carry them out.

There were meetings to discuss the issues, the options, and the outcomes. The group was divided in their support. Some were angry or hostile; some were supportive and helpful; some were tight-lipped and unwilling to take a stand. I threw away my confidence, and withdrew.

If I had taken the time to look at the past, there were decisions of this magnitude that I facilitated well. My confidence had been there and intact. This time, I threw away my confidence, and perhaps let some very good people down.

Flash 55 1/15/10

He was coming for Anna. Mary had to do everything in her power to protect her daughter. She gathered her swirling thoughts together, and focused on the one spell she had never attempted. Standing below Anna’s portrait, she tearfully hugged her daughter. Mary placed her wedding band in Anna’s palm, and clasping hands, she chanted.

(Beginning paragraph of the yet Untitled Gardner/Museum story)
Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Monday, January 11, 2010

Brother and Sisters (From Shaddy's prompt)

I am the oldest of four children born in my family, each three years apart. My first sister died when she was three, of complications from kidney disease and pneumonia. She was a very sweet girl with sunshine in her smile. I remember Dad taking me to my first grade classroom several days later to tell my teacher why I hadn’t been there.

My second sister was born shortly thereafter. Her name was Robin, and it suited her because she was a picky eater, and “ate like a bird”. I have a vision of her at the dinner table long after everyone else had been dismissed, sitting there staring at the green beans on her plate that she had to finish before she could get down. She was six years younger than me, and as I remember, we always fought. It wasn’t until I left for college that we became close friends.

During her first year of college she became ill with an infection that localized in her kidneys, putting her into kidney failure, and requiring her to be on dialysis. A number of years later, we tested to see if I was a transplant match. I was, so that fall she received one of my kidneys. It is the one accomplishment of my life that I am the most proud of. The new kidney allowed her to be free of dialysis. Off and on, her body tried to reject the kidney, but she fought valiantly to retain it. One year to the date of the transplant, she had a massive stroke and died. I still admire her courage and miss her greatly. There is much more to tell of Robin’s journey, but it deserves its own story.

My brother came along nine years after me. Dad finally got a son to play ball with! What a great kid. He was always happy. My sister and I used to dress him up like a doll. We would put mom’s jewelry on him and he would walk around the house in earrings and necklaces, happy to be a part of the fun. He is now an Optometrist, with a beautiful wife and three kids. We are very close and talk weekly.

In Ann’s Beginning Writers Workshop, we were asked to write about things we remember and things we didn’t remember. I wrote that I didn’t remember a lot about my childhood years. It sparked me to call two of my childhood friends from the old neighborhood. We had maintained a “Christmas card” relationship of late. They came to lunch one day before Christmas, and we had a wonderful afternoon, talking about “remember when”. Those memories were there, they just needed prompting.

Copyright Parrot-Writes 2010

Friday, January 8, 2010

Flash 55 1/09/10

Flash 55 is a Friday challenge issued by some new writing friends I have been privileged to join. You have 55 words to create a scene. Here is my first offering:

Jessie's Quest (she's 3)

Grandma, can I have some “Fruities”?
Go ask your Mom, Jessie. Only if she says it’s okay.
Mom, can I have some “Fruities”?
No, Jessie, it’s too close to lunch.
Grandma is fixing us grilled cheese sandwiches.
You’ll have to wait.
Grandma, Mom says it’s okay.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Wednesday, January 6, 2010


Assignment 5 Galumping. Pick a number from 100 -999. Check the three tier grid to see what you will write about.

360 Wedding ring, Gardener, Museum

Nolan stared at the painting of the beautiful young girl every day as he walked through the Museum tending the plants. He was hired as the Gardener to take care of the flower beds around the Museum as well the plants inside. Her name was Anna and according to the date at the bottom of the painting, the year was 1909. She looked to be in her early twenties with curly dark hair and violet eyes, dressed in a long cape of iridescent purple. Her lips were curved ever so slightly in a shy smile. In the palm of her hand she held a simple gold band, a wedding ring perhaps, holding it out as if offering it to him. He often fanaticized that she was smiling at him. Her eyes seemed to follow him wherever he went in the room. As he finished watering the large plant in the corner, he spotted a hint of something shiny in the soil. He gently picked up the round bit of metal and studied it carefully. It was exactly like the ring from the picture. He hurried back to stand at the base of the painting of Anna. The young girl was still holding out her hands, smiling at him, but the ring was no longer in her palm. It was in his. Now what?

This is the premise for a short story in progress.
Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Jessie's Dream

Ann’s challenge – Write a story using the sentence your pen landed on from the one page story she gave us. We had to close our eyes and put our pen to the page. My sentence was “A fire had been recently lit in the wide hearth.”

Expectation ran high as the glitzy-dressed patrons waited outside the door of the neighborhood restaurant at its grand re-opening. Windows, surrounded in flickering holiday lights, added to the festive atmosphere. Inside, a fire had been recently lit in the wide hearth of the walk-in fireplace at the corner of the dining room. A regally decorated Christmas tree glittered in the other corner.

Jessie’s usual calm nerves were close to their snapping point. She swiped at a loose lock of curly blonde hair that had escaped from a diamond clip, pushing it behind her ear. “Are we ready?” she asked her gathered staff. Their resounding chorus of “yes” helped to steady her as she walked toward the door, looking sideways at the dining tables set in fine china and crystal.

Here we go, she thought. Memories tumbled around in her head of the last time this restaurant had opened. She had been there too, but it had been her mother at the helm then. Had it only been five years ago? Could she repeat its success?

Her mother’s unsolved murder at this restaurant two years ago had left a hole in Jessie’s heart and life. This restaurant had been her mother’s dream and they had been a team, working more than full time to make it a success. James, her mother’s latest husband, had been the primary suspect, but never charged with the murder. She despised the man; he had not been good to her mother. Jessie had felt devastated. She had closed the restaurant, and moved away. It took her almost two years to realize this was where she was meant to be.

Jessie touched the diamond clip in her hair. It had been her mothers, and tonight it would be her good luck charm.

Friends and strangers greeted her at the door. She seated excited customers, table by table, until the restaurant was full. Her wait staff, some previous employees returning to help, efficiently handled the orders. The kitchen staff, cheered each other on, as they outdid themselves in preparation and presentation. Jessie’s smile never wavered as she received congratulations and accolades on her successful and welcome re-opening.

Half-way through the evening, Jessie turned towards the door as a new customer entered. The noise level in the restaurant went silent, and Jessie’s smile disappeared, as James stood at the door. She walked stiffly to meet him. “What are you doing here?”

This is the premise for a short story in progress.
Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Vision At The Top of the Stairs

Maya, the cat with the squiggly whiskers sits at the bottom of the stairs patiently waiting for the vision to appear. And patient she is, always looking at or waiting for something. Sitting at the sliding glass door looking at the flowers, sitting on the window ledge looking at the birds, sitting in front of the TV watching the program, sitting on the couch watching the activities of the house, sitting at the base of the bed waiting for her person to get up, sitting in front of the food dish waiting for it to be filled up, sitting in front of the fireplace waiting for it to be lit, and sitting at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her momentary playmate to appear.

Her people say she has a face designed by an apprentice angel. Her long soft fur is grey in color, with beige mixed in here and there. Her face is grey with a tan stripe that runs from between her eyes down the center of her nose to its tip. Below her nose, under her chin, and on her chest she is tan on one side and grey on the other, a straight line dividing the two colors. Her eyes are green with beige colored triangles at each edge and beige color under both eyes that looks like eye liner. But it is her squiggly whiskers that make her unique. They allow her to see a vision of the past.

Only she sees the vision of the previous people’s calico kitty at the top of the stairs. It appears when the current people are downstairs occupied with other activities. She waits at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up until she sees her calico friend, then races upstairs to play. They run from the tall scratching post in the corner through the family room into the master bedroom and back, one, two, and sometimes three times. Her people say it sounds like a herd of elephants running upstairs. She knows it’s only she and the vision at the top of the stairs running from room to room together, playing for a few moments before it disappears.

Maya runs down the stairs to tell her people about this playmate, but they don’t understand her. They laugh and say she is making quite a ruckus upstairs again. They give her a pet and a love, and continue with their activity. She heaves a sigh and moves to sit in front of the fireplace to wait for it to be lit. After it is lit, she proceeds to take a bath, carefully grooming her squiggly whiskers, waiting for the next time the vision will appear.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

For Dorothy

Dorothy was one of the residents of mom’s
Adult Foster Home who passed away in
October 2009.

Gentle Dorothy sitting quietly in her chair
With purse in hand, waiting there.
Sorting through her many colors of thread,
Memories just out of reach resting in her head.

Gentle Dorothy sitting quietly in her chair
With purse in hand, waiting there.
Loving visits of family and attention received,
Always ready with an answer she truly believed.

Gentle Dorothy sitting quietly in her chair
With purse in hand, waiting there.
Seeing All, God has set in motion his plans,
To receive her quietly into his hands.

Gentle Dorothy sitting quietly in her chair
Is in heaven now with God’s grace there.
Sewing beautiful garments with her colored thread,
Looking peaceful and happy for all time ahead.

copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Family Christmas 2009

Cris and I spent our Christmas vacation with 2 knights, 2 princesses, a king, and a queen. Well, and a brief encounter with a septic pumping guy too, but that comes later.

Our daughter Zoe and her husband along with their three kids, plus their Corgi, arrived from Redmond on Sunday to stay the week. Our son Brody and his wife with their three kids arrived on Tuesday for the day so the kids could play. They live 30 miles away.

Since the grandkids enjoy role playing and dressing up, they each received a Renaissance costume for Christmas, including a sword of some sort. There were two knights (our grandsons aged 3 and 6), two princesses (our granddaughters aged 3 and 6), a king (our grandson aged 9), and a queen (our granddaughter aged 9). After opening their presents, they dressed up and went outside to play in costume. Great wars were fought, and the princesses cheered on their knights. The King and Queen oversaw the fighting, and got involved a time or two.

On Tuesday, they played outside much of the day. About 3PM, it unexpectedly began to snow. The Hillsboro group decided to pack up and head over the hill in the daylight for their hour-long drive home, since they did not have snow tires or chains. After 30 minutes on the road, they had only made it 9 miles, so they turned around and came back to the Family Compound. We had also been watching the news and saw that the roads were clogged with stuck cars and figured it would only get worse as the afternoon went on.

The Redmond group was staying in the guest house, a separate living quarters just behind the main house. Our second bedroom in the main house was set up for guests with a queen bed and a set of bunk beds. With a sleeping bag on the floor for the 3 yr old, they had a place to stay the night.

We had gotten pizzas earlier in the day to bake for our dinner, so we were set. We spent a great evening together, chatting, kids playing, watching movies and playing Wii games. The kids entertained us in costume and the decibel level rose and fell all evening. It was a great gift to Cris and me to have everyone together for the day and evening.

Wednesday dawned cold and snowy, which enthralled the kids. What a difference a day makes. On Tuesday they were outside playing in their costumes. On Wednesday, they were out with Grandpa Cris building a snow fort/cave in 4 inches of new snow, heavy coats, and mittens.

About 11AM the snow plow made it down our road, clearing most of the stuff. I needed to take mom to her hair appointment at 1:30PM, so left at 1PM to get her. Had a couple of interesting slips in the slushy stuff (my car is worthless in the snow), but got her there and back in good shape.

When I arrived home about 3:30PM, the Hillsboro group was packed and ready to leave, and Cris was out digging in the yard! Not something I would have expected for a snowy afternoon. Seems that the volume of people had overwhelmed our septic system, and stuff was backing up into the downstairs showers and toilets in both the main house and guest house. Here’s where the septic pumping man comes into the story.

Luckily there were plenty of people and towels to mop up/clean up the mess, and the septic guy wasn’t busy, so could show up in 2 hours. The problem came in that we didn’t know exactly where the septic tank was – we hadn’t had it pumped since we moved in. Thus, Cris was digging up our yard to find it. The other problem came in explaining to children aged 3-9 that they couldn’t use the bathroom for awhile. Of course they all need to when they found out they couldn’t.

Cris found the septic cover and the pumping guy showed up about the same time to fix our problem. Turns out it was a good thing. He said we would have done more damage if we had continued to add to the septic system with the volume just Cris and I would add. The increased volume of water from showers, dishwasher, clothes washer and toilet use of an additional 10 people just caused it to overflow and did no damage.

Thursday (NYE) was to be the great Family Christmas celebration with fourteen for dinner. The kids put on two plays for our entertainment, which were recorded to hold for embarrassment purposes in later years. Good times and good food was had by all. Again, decibel levels reached all time highs, and sometimes lows. It depended on if the movie “Up” was being watched. The hallway between the living room and kitchen, and around the stairs, became a race track to burn off energy. Sometimes all 6 were involved. When the yelling became too much, they were herded back upstairs to watch the movie. We made it to 1030PM before everyone faded. We watched the crystal ball fall in Times Square in New York, and all wished each other a grand 2010.

We are so blessed to have these wonderful kids and grandkids as a part of our lives. Each one, in their own special way, has expanded our hearts with love. We wish for each of them continued growth, both physically and mentally, and a dynamic new year.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Essay about Mom

I miss my mom. Oh, she is here and I see her every day in person, but she is not who she used to be. Mom has Alzheimer’s disease, and the doctors classify her as level 3 of 4 or 5 levels, depending on who you read. Physically she looks the same, maybe a bit more fragile and not as aware or mindful of her physical appearance. Remembering what we are doing or about to do is problematic for her. Her long term memory is fading too. She still knows faces and names of family, but not where they are or what they are doing.

She mostly talks about the clouds and how they are roaming around in the sky, or how bright it is if the sun is out. When we go to Starbucks to get a Mocha, she watches the busy street traffic, and comments about how many cars and trucks there are on the road. She expresses concern about the busses that have First Student labeled on their sides. I tell her it is the name of the company that makes them, but she doesn’t remember, and asks me over and over “what do you suppose that means?” It’s a challenge to answer her repeated questions in different ways, but we all try. It just doesn’t seem to be appropriate to tell her she just asked that question; it would probably upset or confuse her.

I remember mom as being an efficient and organized lady who loved to take care of her family. She lost 2 daughters, one at age 3 and one at age of 27, both from renal disease and their complications. She was their primary caregiver through both of their illnesses. I think this took a great toll on her and my dad. I know what is like to lose a sister; I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a daughter, let alone two.

When dad was alive, towards the end of his life, he used to tell me he was worried about mom because she had no hobbies – she just lived to take care of her family. I assured him that Matt and I would take care of her. I think the disease had already started to take its toll on her by then, we just didn’t know it. She was pretty good at covering up her memory loss, so it wasn’t until dad got worse that it became apparent. She forgot to cook, or clean the house, or sometimes would not even get out of bed in the morning. Dad was trying to do all the things Mom couldn’t do, all the while in failing health himself. He needed the assistance that mom could no longer provide. That is when my brother Matt, his wife Debbie, my husband Cris and I helped them move to an Assisted Living apartment. They lived there a year before dad’s decline took him away.

She is a happy person; we are lucky about that. Some Alzheimer patients are angry and hostile. We are also blessed to have found the Thanksgiving House, a wonderful Adult Foster Home where she is content and happy, and well taken care of. She is a sweet lady, takes direction well, and is helpful to others living in the Foster Home with her. It is only 5 miles from our house, which makes it easier to visit every day. She is the youngest resident at 87. There are four other ladies living there, most in their 90s, several with dementia, and one lady of 103. Mom is watchful of them and helps them to their rooms or straightens their clothes when they stand up. She also helps at mealtimes, setting and clearing the table, things she did by rote all her life. There is a small Yorkie named Tuffy, a kitty named Lovey, and a parakeet named Mr. Peety, who reside in Thanksgiving House. The cat is especially fond of Mom and can be found curled up with her during her naps or at night.

Mom no longer initiates activities. She used to sew, read, cook, garden, and play cards. She does none of these activities now, she just doesn’t remember how. She has to be assisted or directed to get up, dress, brush her teeth, take a shower, and go to bed. She doesn’t use the phone on her own, but is able to carry on a good conversation with family and friends if you dial for her. I especially miss getting phone calls from her. She still loves to walk with her arm tucked in mine and will go with me if I ask her, but does not try it on her own. I think on some level she remembers being lost when mom and dad were living in Assisted Living and she went out for a walk and lost her way. The police found her wandering in a school yard a mile in the wrong direction from her apartment.

If you left her on her own, most of the time she would be watching TV, listening to music, or taking naps. She often lays her head back and closes her eyes because, she says, it “feels good”. She has a permanent dent in her hair at the back of her head from this pose that requires some fluffing to make it stand up and look presentable.

Seeing her every day is sometimes hard. I so want her to be the interactive mom I knew. But that is not to be. This disease robs a person of themselves and leaves the family with the shape but not the substance of the person they knew. It doesn’t make you love them any less, but makes you work a little harder to be with them, all the while watching them decline. I am content seeing that she is settled in to the routine at Thanksgiving House and thank God for its existence. The Caregivers are wonderful, positive, and nurturing for all the women there. They understand mom's limitations and constantly ask for feedback regarding her care. The other constant that keeps me sane is being able to talk about it with my brother and my husband. They are living this too, and talking together, planning, and sharing helps.

So for now, we will all continue to visit her, take her on walks, bring her to family functions and love her dearly. She appreciates all of that, I think. When the day comes that she does not, we will respect that too, and just let her be, knowing she will be wonderfully taken care of by God and the Caregivers of Thanksgiving House.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010