September 2nd, 2008


(no subject)

I will attempt to type this message without it accidentally getting deleted or garbled, since a certain little creature here evidently wants to be the next great American novelist when she grows up (yay).

So, the past two days have probably been the most bipolar two days ever. I'll tell the story of My Labor Day Weekend.

I drove up to Vermont on Saturday. I made good time, and when I was driving down the farm road to get to the lake house, I saw that one of the cows in the "maternity field" had just given birth, and there was a newborn calf staggering by her side. There was a long trail of placenta still dangling out and everything. Simultaneously cute and gross. Pop Pop and I went to The Red Mill for dinner. On Sunday, I made my pilgrimage to Dakin Farm for maple syrup and other goodies, got some yarn in Middlebury (I started knitting a stuffed Champ - the Lake Champlain monster), etc. I went to a meeting for the local road association (zzzzz) and saw my Nana's cousin Knight, his wife Mary Jane, and Knight's brother Whit's widow, Marta (who is from Chile). So this wasn't a very interesting paragraph.

On Monday, when I was getting ready to leave, Pop Pop asked me if I had any Tylenol, because his legs were bothering him. I didn't find any in the house, so he went to lie down. He called me in and asked me to call Kelly (his caretaker) and ask her to come over as soon as possible. He was feeling really weak (he asked me to help pull off his sweater, and he fell backwards and I had to pull him up again), but he decided to get up and go to the bathroom but asked me to be around in case he fell. He got in there fine but called me in because he had trouble getting off the seat. He stood up, took a few steps, wobbled a bit, and just crumpled. I caught him, but I couldn't hold him up, so I set him on the floor. Kelly had told me he wore a bracelet with a button on it that would call for help, so I pushed the button, ran to the kitchen, and asked the operator to send an ambulance. He was conscious and coherent, but he couldn't get up. Kelly arrived about 15 minutes later, Marta ran in while I was calling my mom, and then the ambulance arrived. They came in and wheeled him out, and poor Kelly was in hysterics. She's really attached to him.

So Kelly chased the ambulance to the hospital in Burlington. The paramedics actually called the police and asked them to pull her over, because they were worried she was going to get in an accident, so a cop pulled her over and calmed her down. Marta and I went to the hospital too, and so did Knight and Mary Jane. I guess his blood pressure was really low, but they stabilized him and then told us we could go in and see him. He was in much better shape, and we talked to him for a bit. I said goodbye, since I was going to leave later (and figured I'd never see him again). We thought he'd be ok, at least for a while. Marta and I left, I decided to stay one more night and drive back Tuesday, and we planned to go out to dinner later. So I hung around and watched the same news stories about Hurricane Gustav and Palin's pregnant daughter (that sobbing emo boy should make a "leave Bristol alone!" video) over and over. Then Marta came over and told me Pop Pop had passed away, so we went down the street to tell Gracie and Alan. Apparently Gracie is coming down with Alzheimer's, but it didn't seem like it when we talked to her. Poor Gracie, she's a lot of fun (she's a really social lady and even went skydiving a few years ago). Marta and I went to eat, and when we returned, Kelly was at the house. Poor Kelly, she's just devastated. She's such a sweet lady (really into animals too), I feel really bad for her.

So I guess the funeral is going to be next weekend in Massachusetts. I'm glad I listened to my gut and went up over the long weekend.

On my way back today, I stopped in Syracuse to pick up my new kittens! They mewed for most of the 6-hour car ride back, but they seem to be adjusting well. Yarmulke is white with a gray spot on her head, and she's very sweet and affectionate. Bouncer is a little younger and a pale orange with a few tabby markings around the edges, and she's just hilarious. She really is a "bouncer," and she loves typing. Yarmulke is currently snoozing on a blanket on the floor, and Bouncer is taking a typing break to snorgle my shoulder/chest. They make me laugh.

Whew. Craziness. Tomorrow, I will try to recover from the chaos, play with kittens, and make pickles (I harvested 3 bags of cukes since they were growing all over the place at the lake house).

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