Monday, March 5, 2018

The one where I remember the detail

Every now and then I feel compelled to tell a story with some semblance of brevity. My family and close friends can attest to how infrequently this actually happens, as well as a common error that arises when I do make the effort. I leave out one key piece of information necessary for the story to make sense. Several times over the past few months I have wanted to pop in here to tell you a quick tale, then realize for some of you "blog only friends" (who I appreciate more than you know) the context would be missing. 

Just over four months ago, we moved my grandmother from her home to a memory care facility. It is not the same thing as a nursing home, and I realize I may seem to be caught up in the semantics of it. Her new residence is for people who have been diagnosed with some level of dementia. There is code access to enter and exit the building, as well as to get into the stairwell. They do not provide medical care there, but rather assist with matters related to memory issues (administering medication, serving meals, coaching with daily living skills as needed). I provide the differentiation mainly because many of the tales I hope to share about the new friends I meet (every time I visit in most cases) may make more sense with a basic understanding of who these folks are.

There are obviously a lot of thoughts and emotions that have come with this change in our lives. We can discuss those eventually too. (You're excited, I can see it.) Today I just want to keep it short and sweet, and maybe a little sassy. 

My mother and I went cross-country skiing yesterday, using my grandparents' house as the lodge. Their property backs up to a golf course, so we can put our skis on in the driveway and get here... moments. It is not quite the same without my grandmother waving from the window. However, when we returned to the house after skiing, I took note of the icicles hanging from the roof. My grandmother always warned of the dangers of falling icicles when I was a kid, and of course her house had awesome ones. Who's that slightly anxious looking girl playing in the middle of the yard so far from the house? That would have been me.

Not only did my mother let me get close to the icicles, with just one warning to not get too close, but she even took a photo of me living on the edge...
...and here is the moment before I considered what nastiness might be in frozen roof water...


  1. what a view - I can't imagine skiing to a house. And don't eat yellow snow! Sucking on icicles - absolutely fine.

  2. You need to tell of these stories because they are worth retelling. If anything can be said of our blogs, it's that they are story keepers. I loved reading this, I love the pictures you share of your grandma, and I love you.

  3. Gorgeous pictures from your trip! And I was always warned against icicles, too, but they were always just too tempting for me. :)

  4. Frozen roof water! lol!!!!! I just put my mom into assisted living and they already want to move her room to the memory unit which will have the same kind of access codes.

  5. Wow, look at all that snow! I love the posts you share about your grandmother. I wish I lived closer to mine! She's in a nursing home because she had a stroke and is dealing with blindness. They have her in the Alzheimer's unit because they don't want her to wander outside, but she has all her mental facilities. They just don't know what else to do with her because she's strong for her age, and she doesn't like to ask anyone for help.

    I like the last photo of you because you can see how many icicles there are!


  6. Never gave it much thought, but that icicle was formed by water dripping off the dirty old roof!! But then, we never died from it when we were kids, right?

  7. Whoo, daggers! They look like dragons' teeth. Mmm. Frozen roof water. Tastes like chicken.

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