jmgoyder

wings and things

Slapstick taxi mishaps

I seem to be developing an unintentional talent for slapstick comedy especially when it is a wheel-chair taxi situation.

This afternoon, Anthony came home for a few hours and it was great until he became ‘wobbly’ (that’s our word for when the Parkinson’s disease gets the better of him).

Anyway, the taxi arrived to take Ants back to the nursing lodge and there was a flurry of activity as Ming and I got him into the wheelchair, and the taxi driver and an apprentice got him into the taxi, and I tried to find my elusive wallet.

Once all of that was okay, and I’d said goodby to Ants, I thanked the driver, shook his hand and closed his door so he could drive off.

He was such a kind person so I thought he was yelling at me (over the sound of the taxi engine) that I was such a kind person too, but he just kept yelling.

I had slammed the door on his foot!

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Nose-blowing noise attracts nosy peacocks

Lately the peacocks have begun congregating outside my office and staring curiously at me through the flyscreen door. They’ve never done this before. They used to come to the back veranda door in the hope of bread but I stopped doing that ages ago when their poop began to replace the pavement.

Today I realized that their staring-at-me-through-the flyscreen-door-behaviour was due to my hayfever and the noise I make when I blow my nose. It almost exactly resembles their loud hoot-honking noise. They must think I’m calling them! Of course Gutsy9 is the first one to come running.

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20th wedding anniversary!

Yesterday was our 20th wedding anniversary and Anthony forgot.

So did I.

[Actually, we always forget for some reason but I thought ‘So did I’ was a rather good punchline – ha!]

My mother usually reminds us but she’s in hospital and will be for some time. It was only when I was collecting stuff from her house to take into the hospital that I saw her note – ‘March 27-Ants & Julie anniversary’.

Ants is coming home for the day tomorrow – Good Friday – and I’m not sure whether to tell him about our anniversary or not because it might make him a bit sad and nostalgic.

20 years! Aren’t I supposed to get some sort of present?

[Note to other bloggers – I am having difficulty keeping up with your posts and comments – will catch up asap.]

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Roast duck and miscommunication

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Zaruma is one of our two pet Muscovy ducks. We raised him from a chick. Then we got Tapper and raised her from a chick too and now they are a happily married couple. At sundown I always put them into one of the fox-proof pens and they now look after Gutsy9, the baby peacock, during the nights. (One photo shows Zaruma clearly; the other photo shows all three unclearly).

Anyway, onto the miscommunication part of this post: Anthony absolutely loves roast duck so the other day I bought two frozen ducks. Well, yesterday I defrosted them to cook tonight so I could be a bit ahead of myself for Easter lunch. So, at 6.30pm I told Ming I would join him to watch our favourite TV show as soon as I put the ducks in. At 6.35pm this was our conversation:

Me: Okay, the ducks are in.
Ming (watching TV): How the hell did you do that so fast?
Me: Well I got them ready to go, put a bit of salt on and no need for oil because ducks have a lot of fat.
Ming: Salt! They don’t need salt do they?
Me: Well it just makes the meal a bit tastier.
Ming: You put salt on their wheat?
Me: What?
Ming: They’re ducks, Mum – they don’t need condiments!
Me: Well I was going to use some pepper too.
Ming: What?

And that’s when we realized that he thought I was talking about Zaruma and Tapper. LOL!

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LOL?

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Laugh out loud
Leaves on lawn
Listen or leave
Loser of lottery
Lonely or lustrous
Lovely old leprechaun
Lack of love
Limping on limestone
Lard of lamb
Like or leave
Leaking old lesson
Leaning on legs
Laundering of loss
Long or lengthened
Lazy ornery llama
Lost or loved
Libido of lipid
Lecherous old lion
Lost or least
Lots of love
Laugh out loud!

I tend not to use LOL very much because, after all, it might be misinterpreted.

Yes, it’s been one of those days. LOL!

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If you don’t know what to say, just shut up!

I’ve been trying to find a word that means the same thing as ‘stating the obvious’ but, apart from ‘duh’, there doesn’t seem to be one in the English language. ‘Redundant’ doesn’t quite cut it, ínanity’ only just comes close, so ‘duh’ it is.

A close relative of Anthony’s, who only visits him sporadically, and has baulked at my suggestion of getting him wheel-chair taxied to their place, sent me an email the other day. In the email it was stated that they had visited Anthony but didn’t have time at the moment to arrange for a taxi visit. The irony and inanity of the email’s concluding sentence astounded me:

We notice that he is very lonely.

Duh!

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Predicting unpredictability

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In advanced Parkinson’s disease, it is difficult to predict how any one day will unfold. PD is the kind of disease whereby the timing of medications is almost as important as the medications themselves.

Over the many years since Anthony’s diagnosis, the medications have been changed repeatedly to ‘keep up’ with the progression of the disease. The various timings have also been altered here and there because it’s so difficult to get it right.

In some ways, I quite like the idea of unpredictability – unexpected visitors, for example. In other ways, I don’t like unpredictability -unexpected visitors, for example (ha!)

With PD (especially when it includes a bit of fresh dementia), the unexpected visitors come in the form of constant unpredctability. Today, for instance, I visited Ants at the nursing lodge just after lunch. I predicted that he would have the usual post-meal droopiness but instead he was lively, lucid and he made me laugh.

This was just as unpredicted as the arrival of four wild galahs who seem to have made this place their home recently. So I guess there really isn’t much point attempting to predict the unpredictable, and I am going to stop trying, happily!

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The happy couple

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I’m still struggling with asthma (I realize now this is most likely due to having the old carpets ripped out the other day). So I’m not keeping up with other blogs very well at the moment.

Anyway, the pics are of our older two peafowl, King peacock on the left and his adoring Queenie. They kind of remind me of Anthony and me!

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Peekaboo!

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Gutsy9 has now been living outside for 16 days. To begin with, he was sleeping in a big cage within a pen, but he has now graduated to sleeping outside the cage because he is tall enough to drink from the water container without the risk of drowning.

Zaruma and Tapper (married Muscovy ducks) have taken a liking to him so I put them in the same pen as G9 for the night, with the geese and turkeys in a separate pen.

When I go out to the pens in the morning to let them all out for the day, all the birds go crazy with delight but G9 literally jumps for joy to see me and sometimes twirls himself around in a little happy dance before following me across the lawn and into the back veranda of the house.

He followed me into the bathroom today, asking for a cuddle!

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Embarrassment!

I went to see a new chiropractor today because my chiro. brother is living in Honiara at the moment. So I showered and dressed in my going-to-town clothes, making sure I had decent underwear on in case I had to get into a gown.

Just before I left home, I ran outside in my old sandals to let the geese, ducks and turkeys out of their pens for the day. I accidentally stepped in a couple of puddles and so my feet were covered in mud, but, as I was running late, I just rinsed and wiped as much of the grime off as possible, then threw socks and boots on and raced into town.

Imagine my horror when the chiropractor asked me to take my boots and socks off! Dirty feet that have been inside socks and boots for an hour on a hot day aren’t particularly pleasant things to deal with.

Reluctantly, I took off my boots, then said to the chiropractor, Do I have to take my socks off? I think my feet might be dirty. He just smiled and said yes because he wanted to test my reflexes. Argh! So I peeled my socks off to reveal two filthy feet with matching toenails. I looked at them in shock and said, Oh no, they are dirty! as if I had never seen those feet before, as if they belonged to someone else, a dirty person.

The rest of me is clean, I said lamely, as I explained about the chookyard mishap. But the chiropractor just smiled and did the reflex thing and asked about the birds as if to distract himself from the horror of touching my feet.

Well how was I suppose to know he’d want to see my feet?

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