Symphony and dinner of...children?

Master of his domain, Mr. Tubby Toby the Tabby

Sunday Evening's Post:

It was a beautiful day today, and in the sixties with a bit of a nippy breeze.

Originally, we were going to head over to Greenwich Point for a picnic, but decided against it and shared lunch in the sun with the door slightly ajar for Mr. Tubbers. Tubbers likes to run in and out of the house pretending like he controls the world. It's quite adorable, actually. The day was off to a very relaxing start.

This particular afternoon, we picked up one of Fanny's friends, Stella, as we had an extra ticket to the symphony, and drove over to the high school  to watch The Greenwich Symphony. (I think Tubbers was rather forelorn when he saw us leaving...he was standing by the door looking at us longingly before we left. Poor little guy).

The symphony was beautiful.  Grandpa and I both enjoyed listening to the music with our eyes closed for a good portion of it...it's a good thing he didn't start snoring. I can sympathize with him. It can be difficult to stare at the stage for 2 hours.

Pre-spring photo of the back garden...

We went to dinner at a VERY yummy restaurant called The Ginger Man. If you want a good sandwich/salad, I highly recommend it. I had the Applewood smoked ham with grilled onions and brie sandwich, Grandpa had a pear and gorgonzola salad, Fanny an eggplant sandwich which she gave half of to Grandpa. Grandpa was skeptical of eggplant containing any eggs, but he ate part of it despite his apprehension, Stella had, hm, I don't remember now. 

(I'm taking note of a few things while I'm here. Grandpa loves salad, anything plant, really. I've always been a salad lover too, but I'm guessing it really is the secret to his longevity, that and a good sense of humor, of course.)

So, we're sitting at the table, Grandpa to my left side and Fanny and Stella facing us from the wall. Above them there is an old beer advertisment with an illustration of a rather large belligerent looking man with a bolbus red nose drinking a foaming beer out of a big glass mug. Grandpa points to it and says, "Hey, Lucy, there's a guy for you."

"Oh, yeah, Grandpa. He's a real catch isn't he?" I smile. What's next?

He just snickers. Then he captures a snippet of Fanny's conversation with Stella. ..."I was thinking about it the other night...." She says.



"What, about sex? That's what she thinks about all the time. I bet you didn't know that about your mother, did you?" He snickers himself into a laughing fit. Fanny just rolls her eyes, and I laugh. He's on a roll tonight, that's for sure! Note that Grandpa thought and periodically thinks I'm Fanny's daughter. This doesn't bother me in the slightest, don't get the wrong idea.

We're looking over our menus deciding what to order when a child screams from behind us. Grandpa, quick as a whip leans towards me and says, "You better be careful what to order, they're killing children back there, who knows what you'll get."

Dinner was great, and while we're awaiting the bill, Grandpa is relaxed with his hands on his outstretched and rolled-up napkin. "What are you doing with the napkin, Grandpa?"

"Come here and I'll show you," he says, while taking it and putting it up to my neck with a devilish grin. "He he he..." laughing fit ensues. 

BUT they soon end. It was a really good day. 

 





An Introduction Part Deux

Is my heart on my sleeve? Always. So,without further ado, I invite you to take a drive with me through a fascinating part of my life right now with some incredible people in Greenwich...

Last weekend was perfect. Last Saturday, one of my bff's-for-life invited me out on the town for an Irish pub crawl or, maybe it was called the Irish Stroll in downtown NYC. Was it awesome? Yes. Did I feel far too old to partake in it? Yes. And yet somehow, I felt alive, young, and obscenely ridiculous--which I believe is how life should be a lot of the time. It's more like, middle-school immaturity with beer. Silly. Pure silliness. If you know me, you can attest to this.

I came home late, took an 11 o'clock train from Grand Central Station, and fell asleep...awaking at the kick of an irritated conductor's foot in the leg to get up and out in Stamford. Thank GOD Stamford was the next town over so I snagged a cab and hurried home...to the safety and warmth of one of the twin beds in my cozy upstairs room in my grandparents home. I slept until ten, then made breakfast and read The NY Times, naturally. The day was off to a good start, this Sunday. Grandpa came downstairs still wearing his robe, just his robe. Merry, jolly, and ho-hum singing all the way. This is my grandpa. He has to be one of the most laid back 91-year-old men you'll ever meet. Especially a 91-year-old who doesn't remember the conversation he just had with you moments ago. But he can tell you he had children, he had a dog named Pal and a crow growing up named Inky Inky. He can tell you he worked in NYC, and that he had a house in Breezy Point, NY (a skinny stretch of ocean beachfront to NYC's outer harbor. I initially thought it was an island until I was corrected). He knows his parents' names, he knows his father was an important architect, and that he himself worked with the great Maurice Sendak before Where the Wild Things Are, and you can bet he knows it's time for a glass of wine at 5 o'clock.

So...going back to that morning. Grandpa came down and after Fanny, his wife, told him to, he went back upstairs to put on clothes. 

"Lucy doesn't need to see you in just a robe! Go put on some clothes. Are you wearing underwear?!" 

After a quick assessment of the situation (my head turned towards the burner), "No! Go put on some clothes!"

Grandpa comes down an hour later with two pajama tops on, jeans, sailing shoes, and a grin. "George! TWO pajama tops, aye? Well, okay," says Fanny.

We eat breakfast, and Grandpa, who is probably the one and only single last gentleman in the world, asks, "Lucy, would you like to read the NY Times?" "No Grandpa, Thank you! I am still working on this section."

(Repeat above question/answer 3 times)

I throw on some clothes and decide that we need to go outside. It's daylight savings. I just changed all the clocks, and the sun is out in Connecticut. I'm thrilled. It's time to take Mr. Tubbers outside for a walk.I tell Grandpa and Fanny I'm going to mosey outside. Fanny follows me outside. We end up gardening. I've never gardened. I'm from Arizona. No reasoning needed. Mr. Tubbers can't believe he's allowed out and clings to the side of the house, he's never been allowed outside in his 3-4 years of life, so this is quite exciting. 

I learned how to use pruners. Mr. Tubbers, Fanny, and I broke up branches, clipped back bushes. Grandpa came out and helped and it all came naturally. He knows his home. He knows everything about what he's been doing for years and it felt good to be in the sun (He, like me, or rather, me, like him, are sun worshippers). After our work in the garden, we shared a beer, had lunch, and sunned with Mr. Tubbers on the porch. 

I noticed something profound. Something I've noticed several times since I moved here in October. He seems happier, more talkative, and overall satisfied after a day filled with activity. Pan over to my first Christmas in Connecticut--it was quite amazing. We spent Christmas Eve at Fanny's son and daughter-in-law's home. We had quite a dinner, drank lots of wine. We all sang old songs from the 30s/40s on the drive all the way home. Grandpa singing the loudest, naturally. Then, when we got home. the party continued with more music and Grandpa dancing with myself and Fanny. It was a truly epic moment in my life.

And, to close this post:

Last weekend's work and revitalization in the sun spurred his active humor and good spirit at dinner. He was jolly, joked about the cat Mr. Tubbers. And when it was time for bed, he said 

"Well, Lucy, we'll leave you to read your dirty books."

"Grandpa! Excuse me?"

"He he he."

"I gave that book to her, George. There is nothing dirty about it!" protested Fanny.

"I'm sure," he said. "That's how I know it's dirty! You gave it to her to read!" exclaimed Grandpa laughing himself into a coughing fit.

"I wish!" she said.

An introduction to my time in Greenwich

It's been since October since I moved in with my grandparents in Greenwich Connecticut. They live in a cozy green home with a wrap around porch and have a beautiful garden--when the weather is right, of course--let's just say, its idyllic. Straight from a picture book, idyllic. What stories will unfold here? 

About my move here:

1. I love it.

2. I can't believe this is where I am at the ripe age of 29, quickly approaching the ever-dreaded 30.

3. Who cares?

Facts:

My grandfather has advanced alzheimers.

My step-grandmother is practicing patience.

I am here to work while my husband finishes grad school at Duke (which he finishes in May), and hopefully provide some help around here.

We just adopted an institutionalized, but super-sweet tabby.

I work in publishing.

I am thoroughly, utterly, in all my entirety, happy here. Not sure about a lot of other residents here, but that's for another discussion later.

Yes, I miss my conventional dream of having a house with a pool, two perfect kids, a managerie of animals who were, inevitably to be, just like my children, perfect. But no. My life has taken a turn, quite a turn in fact, like life tends to do. It's now a combination of the people who've always made me feel loved and appreciated, no matter what, and the dream of living/commuting in/to New York City, while trying to make a relationship work from afar. I don't make much money. Actually, that's an understatement; I make nothing. But who cares, I'm having a blast and most importantly, feel fulfilled.

This situation is priceless. I don't know how long it will last, and maybe I've gotten used to living like the vagabond I've become. But, I want to capture these moments with my Grandpa and Step-grandmother. I want to treasure this time I have with some of the most important people I have in my life right now.

May this new journaling initiative be helpful to those who have elderly family members suffering from alzheimers, loneliness, or health issues at all, for that matter. Life goes on, and I'm realizing you just have to take the time that is now, and enjoy it, learn from it. The point of this blog is not to discuss the hardships that come from a loved one who's suffering from something that seems unimaginable, but to harness it, take it for what it is, and leave it. The person you knew is still there, they just don't remember things. Think about those late nights you've had where the details get fuzzy, and you just chalk it up to another fun night on the town. So what's the difference? You lived through college...Do you remember all of it? Think of life that way. That's how alzheimer's is. Don't treat people who may suffer from it differently. They, like anybody, hate to be treated like they're ill-equipped. They've seen more than we've seen or experienced, whether they remember each detail or not doesn't matter. Respect and love, and healthy living, is what keeps families prospering. So, enough lecturing...

This post is long, but I wanted to post a little history behind the inspiration for this blog.