I'm going to hell for laughing at this

I hope none of you are first-time readers, because this is bad. I should not even write this. But you know how I am - I can't stop myself.

Today my legally blind 91-year-old Dad and I went to the pharmacy, one of those monster chain stores.

He said he needed to get "bug juice," which means, in Dad lingo, "deodorant." (The apple does not fall far from the tree, does it?)

I found the deodorant aisle. He is one of the last three people on earth to use spray deodorant.

"This one?" I asked, picking up the Right Guard that I was fairly sure I had bought him the last time he was out.

"No," he said. He also rejected all of the other brands that were there.

"Are you sure?" I asked, pretty darn sure about the Right Guard.

"That's not it."

"Well, it is on sale two for the price of one," I said, knowing that would get his attention.

Done. Two cans of Right Guard.

Not done.

"I don't think it was on that aisle," he said. "I think it was in the back corner."

We trudged around the store, Dad picking up random items - pregnancy test, curling iron - and saying "No, that's not it."

"I really think they keep all the deodorant in one place," I gently suggested.

"It's here some place," he said, continuing the search.

Finally he gave up and we bought our two cans of deodorant and went home.

Mom and I were chatting in the kitchen when Dad emerged from his bathroom with a spray can.

"THIS is what I was looking for," he said, triumphantly.

"Ummmmmm.....errrrrr...." I said.

"Oh, no," Mom said softly.

I had to break it to him.

"Dad - that's not deodorant. That's generic Lysol."

Stop me if I have told you this...

What is it about old people and poop? They're like the parents of toddlers - they just can't resist giving you the Poop Report.

Suzanne wrote a short post that reminded me of this.

I don't want to hear about poop. I'm famous - or maybe infamous - for unfollowing people on twitter who describe their poop, or their kids's poop. I mean, is that shit really necessary?

So when Mom started giving me a daily report of her bowel product, I took it for 2 days and then put an end to it.

"Mom," I said, "You know I love you but that is TOO MUCH INFORMATION. I do not ever want you to tell me what kind of poop you made, how long it took, or how long it has been since the last time you pooped."

She put on her pouty face.

"But it's IMPORTANT to me," she said.

"I know, Mom, it's important to all of us, trust me," I said. "If you have a problem where you need to go to the doctor, I will gladly take you to the doctor, but until then, I don't wanna hear about it."

So now she starts a sentence and then throws up her hands saying in an exaggeratedly exasperated tone, "Oh, that's right, you don't want to HEAR about it."

On the upside, she loves the phrase "too much information" and uses it all the time now. See, you're never too old to learn something new.

What. The. Heck

How could I leave that grim & depressing post up for so long? My apologies. My excuse is that I have been BUSY - I think I have done seven news articles in the past five days PLUS job hunting.

Ok, a bullet point post will have to do.

• I'm not going to say much but cross your fingers for my job hopes. There may be something good around the corner.
  
• Things with the folks are even MORE worrisome. I'm pondering next steps. I wish my siblings all lived in my town so we could sit down over coffee, because they are all smarter than me.
  
• I have done exactly nothing for Christmas so far.
  
• My ex-job supplied me with 2 months of career search services, which I very much appreciate. That is mighty decent of them. There is something to be said for working for a SuperMegaHuge Giant Corporation.
  
• Any advice on whether to buy Quark or InDesign if I want to do some design work again? I have Illustrator and PhotoShop. I worked in Quark 40 hours a week for, oh, a billion years, so I am more familiar. What are all the cool kids using?
  

Ok, off to do more reporting. Mo' money, baby.

Best Blog Challenge

The lovely Gwen Bell has issued a challenge about a challenge: write about something that challenged you this year and how you overcame it and why it was a good challenge.

Ok.
Ok.
Here I go.
No really.
I'm doing it any minute.
Hm.

I don't like to think about challenges. I just want them to go away tra la. I am lazy like that.

I don't know if I have overcome this one yet or not.

Ok, I haven't. It is my continuing challenge, one that I deal with every single day.

I am challenged by not having my parents' precipitous decline into old age taint my world view. The pain and suffering and helplessness they face every day as their bodies and minds wear our are almost more than I can bear at times.

Their existential crisis has become my existential crisis. What's it all about, Alfie?

I try to keep my eyes wide open. To be helpful and kind and to not minimize or ignore their suffering because I hate seeing it so much.

Sometimes I pass and on many days I fail. I forget that they aren't who they used to be.

I snap at them, I'm sarcastic, I'm impatient, I run out of there just to get away for a while.

The temptation is to put up a wall - not against them so much but against feeling what is happening to them and letting the full horror wash over me. Because it is horrifying, it is scary, it is painful.

It is only when I can gather my inner strength, my hidden Toltec warrior, and just be there that it is all ok. If I can just breathe through it, remember to be right there, right then - that's when I can feel all the feelings and let the power of love tie us together instead of let the misunderstandings, pains and fear tear us apart.

So. That's not the most cheerful challenge on earth, but there it is. There is no tidy ending, no Oprah-episode "Aha" moment. Just life. I hope that's enough.