#193-I LAUGH AT MYSELF REGULARLY!

I really don't understand why some people get so angry at jokes which happen to spotlight their particular demographic group.  I managed to laugh at and even tell some very good blonde jokes myself (I was once a blond).  What's the big deal ?  So, just to prove it I am offering these jokes about aging that some of my good friends have been kind enough to send me since I turned 70.   kt    PS:  See answer to, "How are you doing?" this Monday (6/20).

                                        

                                        This would be me before my cataract surgery.  kt

This would be me after my cataract surgery.
(just can't resist an opportunity)   kt

                                        
                                If this were actually my chart there would be a slice
designated for peeing.  kt

I did have something similar happen.  I lost my half slip 

while walking down the side walk.  kt 

Been there done that.  kt

MY SENTIMENTS, EXACTLY!  kt2011  

#158-THE NEWSPAPER HEADLINE READ: SHE FEEDS HER DAD KIBBLES!

I have been caring for my 100 year old dad since he fell and severely shattered his shoulder about 4 years ago.  It has been interesting, frustrating and sometimes funny.

There are a number of skills that one develops when working with the elderly.  I am going to only mention four today.

1.  One needs to talk slower.
     Since my dad is very hard of hearing, this skill is important.  I have ADHD I generally don't do anything slow, and it has been hard for me to remember to  t  a  l  k    s  l  o  o  o  o  w.   He won't ask me what I said or say that he didn't understand me he will just shake his head or say ok.  Just to test this I once said to him, "Dad, the President is here to see you."  He answered, "Ok, I'v got to pee."

2.  One needs to talk louder.
     Well, I never had a problem here.  In fact I have always talked too loud.  Just ask any member of my family, any friend, any student I have ever had, or several employers.  My voice can be heard at the back of any theater or auditorium.  I guess I missed my calling.  Should have been a stage actor.

3.  One needs to be Patient.
    Dad does things at a snail's pace (Kind of like Tim Conway did.  Watch this through to the end and you will see Conway's famous old man's walk).



Because of dad's slow walk,  I have to travel at a snails pace when walking with him.  I already shared about my ADHD and I don't do slow.  Well, at least, I didn't do slow until I started working with Dad. After almost running over him a few times I disciplined myself through mental imaging.  I imagined a newspaper article elaborating about an old man's injuries inflicted by a thoughtless daughter running over him while escorting him down a ramp to the car.  It is amazing what picturing something in one's head can do.


4.  One needs to NOT over react.
     This brings me to today's story.

Last week I was fixing Dad's dinner.  I had it all on the table and ready to go when he took his seat.  Usually I put Toby out at this time so he won't learn to beg at the table.  I picked up Toby's bowl of kibbles and was starting to take the bowl, and Toby, out back.  Suddenly, Dad asked me where his drink was.

I set the bowl down on the table and went to get Dad's drink.  That is when I heard this loud crunching sound.  I looked round to see what Toby was doing (automatically thinking he had gotten into something).  Toby was just sitting there staring at me and then looking at Dad (in an accusatory manner).  I turned and looked at Dad and he was sitting there with a fist full of Toby's kibbles, munching away.

Calmly I put the glass of juice on the table, and slowly took Dad's hand in mine before he could pop any more kibbles into his mouth.  I (again, calmly) said, "Ahhh, Dad, let me have that, it's dog food."  He handed what was left in his hand to me (save one) said, "Oh," and popped one last kibble into his mouth.

After I put Toby out I ran (yes ran) to my computer and typed up some notes.  I was laughing so hard I could barely type.  Is it awful to laugh at a 100 year old man?   Nope!  My dad is the one who taught me to laugh hard and often.

Well, I have to go now as Toby just brought me a pair of reading glasses minus one ear piece (really).

When I went to look for the other half I found a trail of several tissues (which means that he can now jump up onto my bed to reach my Kleenex box....oh bother), one shoe, a pencil, a sock, and the earpiece to my glasses...all leading from my computer room to his play room.  Between Toby and my dad I had better get this PATIENCE skill down well or I could loose what is left of my mind!
kt 2/2011

#147.5-WHAT'S UP WITH THAT!

Lately I have been receiving all kinds of junk mail aimed at enticing me to join a dating service (SeniorSingles Match, Senior Match, Perfect Matches, etc).  What's up with that?  I'm 70 for crying out loud!

At one time I was on the look out for someome to share my life with.  After all I have been divorced for over 40 years.  However, when I discovered I had to either pick one up a the local shelter (an buy him teeth), steal one from someone else (probably have the same problems as most used cars, like too much mileage), or wait for someone's wife to die (what a morbid thought).  Therefore, I decided it wasn't worth it.

However, if I WERE in the market there would be several criteria I would have to insist on.  For example:

Oh, YES, I WOULD have specifications.  I would like:

1.  a man who loves to cook but, also likes to clean up the mess.

2.  a man who likes to travel, alone!

3.  a man who still looks good with my glasses on.

4.  a man who has lots of money, but can't remember he has given it ALL to me.

5.  a man who does not dwell on his past.

6.  A man who has good insurance (especially for nursing home care and "final expenses").

7.  A man who has absolutely no children (or ex-wives).

8.  A man who does not need to wear depends.

9.  A man who insists on separate bedrooms (so it ok if he snores = my one concession).

10.  BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY A man who loves to cuddle, but has prostrate prostate trouble (get my drift).

So, with this criteria do you think I should go on one of those dating services?  Neither do I!

I WASN'T FINISHED WITH THIS ONE YET!  IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO POST UNTIL 3/21 BUT THE C.R.A.P. (Computer Related Attacks by Poulterguists) STRUCK AGAIN.  OH WELL!  kt 3/2011

#142/#144-A MAIDEN VOYAGE aka THE TATTOO VIRGIN

(1/26/11 @ 1:PM) THOSE DARNED POLTERGEISTS STRUCK AGAIN!  WHEN I FINALLY CHECKED AT 1:00 PM THIS ONE HADN'T POSTED.  I SO WANTED EVERYONE TO GET TO SEE MY TATTOO. THAT MADE ME DECIDED TO POST THIS AGAIN ON THE 28TH!  kt
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(1/27/11 @ 5PM) OK, NOW THIS HAS TO STOP!  I JUST CHECKED MY BLOG AND THERE WAS MY TATTOO POST.  NEXT, I CHECKED THE SCHEDULED DATE AND IT READS 1/28/11...6AM...  BELIEVE ME I AM GOING TO HAVE TO HAVE AN EXERCISM (EVEN THOUGHT I'M NOT CATHOLIC) BECAUSE THIS REALLY PISSES TICKS ME OFF! (I'M PUTTING IT BACK ON THE 28TH!) kt
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Well, I said I was going to get a tattoo on my 70th birthday.  But, it didn't work out that day.  You see, February 4th was the day after the biggest snow story of the quarter century hit Missouri and the Slippery Monkey (the tattoo parlor) was closed.  In fact, even McDonalds was closed (now that's some snow storm).

This is what the road to his place looked like (well, kind of).

And to yourself you said, "Wait a minute.  Run that name by me again." You read it right.  SLIPPERY MONKEY (as in the monkey on your back).  According to Helpme.com (and an article I found there) the mind is a tree and in this tree there is a monkey and a bird.  From Walt Whitman's Song of Myself,  "The monkey, called the slippery monkey, races about, chattering constantly. If one can silence the monkey then the bird sings."..."By stilling the slippery monkey and hearing the song of the bird one gains enlightenment shedding the ego in order to attain enlightenment in Buddhism."  Other sites refer to the slipping the monkey of addiction off one's back. (See, one can get a classical education reading my blog.)

This is his logo!  That monkey looks more mad then slippery.

Any way when I googled Slippery Monkey, I came up with well over 10 sites about this particular tattoo business in my home town.   

So, a week before my tattoo, I went in, talked with the owner, and picked out my tattoo. 

The owner, Harold, looked like he just jumped off a chopper on his way back from Woodstock.  But, what surprised me is that he is a very conservative man with strong moral values.  You see, I am not immune to stereotyping either (although I thought I was). 

I asked Harold if I should take something for the pain.  His response was, "Take a couple of aspirins or a shot of tequila."  I shuttered to think of what I might choose to do if Tequila were introduced into the mix.  So, I opted for Tylenol.

And, this is Harold!  I put life and LIMB (literally) in his hands.

Over a week later, Harold had the parking lot cleared and I ventured into the devils den (according to some of the people in my church).  Undaunted, I popped up into the chair and offered him my right ankle.  He described the THOUSANDS of needle pricks that would be necessary as he proceeded to prepare his pallet of needles.  He poured what looked like poster paint into little tubs that fit onto the needles.  He looked at me over his GLASSES and said, "Well?"  Totally unfazed by the lecture and the sight of the six or so needles I said, "Go for it!"  Not too original, I know, but that is all I could come up with.  I was busy thinking, "Mannnnnn, this is gonna hurt!"

Harold's mouth (and needles) never stopped moving the entire time.

But, to my surprise, it didn't hurt at all!  Not that it really mattered because I was determined to get this done even if I had to bite down on a tree limb.  It kind of stung once in a while but, Harold kept me busy listening to his continuous running commentary on everything from the environment to teenagers today.


Now, I am the proud wearer of my first (and probably last) tattoo.  However, my shoulder would look cute with a small butterfly on it....(I'll save that for my 80th birthday).


I did think about covering all my wrinkles with tattoos, but then I would look something like the Illustrated Man Woman.  No, don't think that would go over too well in this small town.  


When my daughter showed my nine year old granddaughter my tattoo, Shay said, "THAT'S CRAZY."  Well, maybe  it is, and maybe I am but, I have definitely decided that I AM going to do some of the things I have always wanted to do.  As I said before, my new mantra is, "Adventure Before Dementia"(after this tattoo some people think I am already too late).


Oh, I almost forgot did you want to see it?????  

Now I don't even have to shave...keen, huh!
at least I won't have to shave as often!

OK...OK....HERE IT IS:

See how tame this looks after showing you the first one.
Smart huh!

kt 2/2011

#125-GETTING OLDER, WE ALL DO IT

I found this a couple of months ago and I immediately knew I had to use it!

Ok, I turned 70 on February 4th and I am "supposed" to be old by a lot of peoples standards.  In fact, I found out that most "old folks" like me don't even have a computer.  And if they do, they mostly use it to send and receive Emails.  When trying to find bloggers 6o and over I came up with very few.  So, you can see why I was a little bit reluctant to divulge my age.  Readers, might be turned off by this OLD GEEZER'S writings.

Nobody said getting old would be easy.  But it is easy.  It is too easy, and happens too fast.  In fact I do not consider myself old, even when I look in the mirror.  What's not easy is trying to grow old gracefully.  There are daily reminders that pop up when you least expect them (like the mirror).  The other day I passed the bathroom mirror and was startled to see my mother's reflection.  Mannn, when did I start to look like her?

Then, there are friends who remind me what a joke life can be.  And, there are a lot of funny things that happen at each stage of life, even old age.  A friend sent me these cartoons.

Yes, I have already gone through three of the four stages of aging!

And, this IS an accurate diagram of my day!

I was almost this bad before my cataract surgery!

Finally,  I do consider this one as too close to the truth.

(the caption reads, "I'm getting so old that all my friends in heaven will think I didn't make it!")

The thing is the older I get the closer to God I get and that's something to look forward to.  So, here is some advice from this OLD GEEZER... ... ... easy to give, but hard to follow... ... ... 

• turn your troubles over to God  (talk to him) 
• follow God's commandments (read His word)
• laugh as often as possible, and carry a smile on your face (even when you don't feel like it)
• don't hold grudges (forgive easily) 
• tell loved ones (and friends) daily, how much you care for them
• respect yourself (but put others first)
• do your best at everything you do  (but don't try to please everyone)
• reward yourself when you have done well (because others often forget to)
• be honest with yourself (and others)
• make sure your words are nurturing (not hurtful)
• hug a lot (the person standing next to you may not show it, but probably needs one too)
• do something positive to help the environment (every little bit helps)
• eat your prunes (just threw that in there to make sure you were paying attention, I can't stand those things and don't eat them).
• remember that movie "Pay It Forward?" (Well, we all need to do a lot of small pay it forwards!)

Nothing new or mind blowing here.  Just plan ole common sense.  The more you follow these simple suggestions the happier you are with yourself.  The happier you are with yourself the better you treat others.  The better you treat others, the better they treat you and... ... ... 

However, there is one I forgot to put down: 

• There are jerks in this world (the trick is to learn to ignore them,  forgive them and try not to be like them).

I DID SAY IT WOULDN'T BE EASY.  Lord knows I haven't mastered them.  But I try!  I really try! 

kt2/2011

#124-THE CENTURION (Totally Tubular Toby on hold 1 more week)

Dad had just put a
french fry in his mouth.

A terrific man, a wonderful father, and he's MY 100 year old dad!


This is a picture taken at our Local McDonalds where my father INSISTS on having lunch EVERY DAY! (for the past 10 years).  This was taken Feb. 8th 2010 on his 99th birthday.  He has many fans there and when he enters they greet him like he just walked into "Cheers."

Dad retired to the midwest in 1978 (with my mom, who passed away about 5 years ago).  He was not the type to retire and do nothing so, he put in for substituting.  When they found out that he was the only teacher in the state of Missouri certified in both Physics and Chemistry they hired him to replace a teacher that was leaving.  Dad had no interest in a permanent teaching job but, he agreed to the position until they found someone else.  He taught for a year.

Then he was asked to work for a local company as a Chemist.  He agreed only on his terms.  Again he had no desire to work full time.  It ended up being full time for a while.
Just to let you know the kind of man he is, when they came to him and asked him to retire (a down turn in sales) he told them that HE was the one who would decide when to quit and they left him alone.  About 6 months later he retired, AGAIN.

Although involved before, he then threw himself into the activities of the church he was attending.  He served in several positions and became well known as the guy who played the innkeeper in the annual living Nativity scene.  No one signed up for that position because everyone knew it was Bill's part (that's what they call him here).

At the age of 89 I had to call his grandson, "Gene, over to the house AND GET YOUR GRANDFATHER OFF THE ROOF! " Dad was up there washing the gutters out with a water hose.  When scolded about the dangers of him being up there he simply laughed and said,  "Karen, it's not the roof that's dangerous, it's the damned ladder!"

At the age of 90 he started substituting again only to quit because my mother became ill.  Her Altzheimers became severe and he had to lock himself in the house with her for three years.  He refused to put her in a nursing home and took care of her 24/7/365.  (THIS IS THE KIND OF MAN MY FATHER IS!) I moved home and helped out as often as I could but I had a full time teaching job 1 hour away.

This sacrifice cost him his health.  Up until this time he was like a healthy 50 year old.  He developed diabetes and high blood pressure.  Shortly after mother died he took a tumble in his kitchen and shattered his right shoulder.  Completely broke the ball off and crushed the cup.  Did that keep him down?  ABSOLUTELY NOT!  He was in a nursing home for 3 months (driving us crazy insisting on lunch from McDonalds).  I could see him going down hill so I retired in the middle of the year and took him out AMA.  And he is still here today.

Dad still retains his sense of humor on a day to day basis.  He is loved and admired by all who know him.  All of my memories of Dad have a great deal of laughter echoing around them.

My dad is a man of honor and integrity.  He is a rule follower extraordinaire.  For example when walking to a local football game I started to cut across the grass.  He wouldn't follow.  It was against the rules even though not posted.  If the speed limit was 45 he would go 45 not 46 (which always irritated Mom and I).  But, he never lectured or criticized us, just led by example. 


During WWII my dad tried to sign up.  (Several of his basketball seniors died in the Arizona) He was turned down because he had a cracked vertebrae.  Did that stop him (I am sure you know the answer), ABSOLUTELY NOT.  He quit his education job and relocated his family to a job he took at the Atlas Powder Company.  If he couldn't fight then he could at least use his skills as a chemist to make bombs.  

He is the most honest man I know and never even cheated on his taxes.  I have never know him to lie, cuss, or talk against another human being.  


He never spanked me, never yelled.  All he had to do is look at me and that was it.  He was the same way with his students, players and faculty.  Dad had this way of expecting the best from everyone and always getting it.  Somehow, no one wanted to disappoint Mr. Taylor.(while in secondary school, I did  suffer a little ego problem by being his daughter.  I had guy "friends" and but no boyfriends.  Later I found out that all the "guys" had self imposed this "hands off" policy when it came to me).OK, enough is enough?  But I am just getting started. So I will try to shorten my comments.   

• As a grade school student in he was up before dawn to collect, wrap, and deliver newspapers.  After delivering the papers he would go to the local grocery and sweep out the store for food to bring home to his large family.  Then he would go to school where he received excellent grades.
• He was a home town football hero in High School and continued to be lauded for his feats at Missouri Valley College.  He was inducted into their Hall of Fame.
• Dad still holds records at his high-school and college for various sprints etc.  As a coach he was known for running backwards and taunting team members to try to catch him   (THEY NEVER DID).
• When teaching PE at he would challenge any takers to a foot race.  If they won he promised to give them an automatic A (THEY NEVER DID).
• Dad is still celebrated by his home town for the football team he coached in 1947 which had an undefeated and UN-SCORED upon season.
• The middle school (was a PE teacher, teacher, V.P. and Principal) was his "BABY for 23 years."  He dedicated himself to the facility, the teachers, and especially the students.  He was available to all 24/7 in any capacity needed. Mother often felt like a widow during the school term.
• He never missed a school activity and he retired one year early, with pay, because of all of the stored up sick leave.
• He took classes every summer and finally ran out of classes to take.  He refused to get his Doctorate because he would have to take time off from his beloved school.  He said,  "I don't need a Dr. in front of my name and I don't need the additional money that bad, either!"

I could go on like this for pages and pages.  Suffice it to say...THEY DON'T MAKE THEM LIKE HIM ANYMORE.

#100-NEW YEARS RESOLUTION

THIS PARTICULAR CLIP REALLY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, OR DOES IT?    IT SEEMS TO ME THAT WE ALL NEED TO MAKE A NEW YEARS REOLUTION TO WORK HARD TO BE AS HAPPY AND ENERGENIC AS THESE TWO!.

WATCH THE WHOLE THING.  THEY HAVE SOME FANCY FOOTWORK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CLIP.    kt2010

#68-WHAT'S WHOOPEE ANYWAY?

"One of my friends (Clenna) sent me this and I enjoyed a big lol because I was thinking along similar lines. I say similar because I might resort to this "IF" I could choose which person got to pat me down.  Then I had multiple, consecutive flashbacks of the times I went thought the security line and the individuals who were there manning those lines.  NOPE!  Don't remember a single one that tripped my trigger, floated my boat, or even tickled my fancy.

You see, I have been divorced (from my 2nd husband) for 40 years and haven't even had a date since 1976 (let alone any whoopee.....  yes, whoopee, remember this is a "G" rated blog).  I looked back at my life and wondered, "How did that happen?"  I really thought I would remarry after my second divorce.  Yes, you read right (both times).  I didn't mistype  "2nd" and that, dear friends, is another story. 

Well, after my last divorce my children were young and I just couldn't face the prospect of reentering the dating game.
              "But,"  I said to myself, " I do miss the whoopee."


When my children got a little older I lived in Los Angeles and I didn't like what I saw out there.  Dating could be dangerous.
              I said to myself, "I  can live without whoopee."


Then I moved to a small town in Missouri I found that there were no suiters available, at least any in which I was interested.  The only good ones were already taken and the others had to be drug out of the gutter and cleaned up.
          At this point I said to myself, "I don't want whoopee that bad!"


When the kids started moving out and away, I thought that maybe it was time for me to remarry.  However, I didn't want to marry someone only to have to nurse him for the rest of my life.
          I said to myself, "Big deal, whoopee is over rated."


Now that I am retired I realized that if I found someone now, I wouldn't be able to get naked (or for that matter see him naked).
          I said to myself, "Hey, old gal, you don't even want whoopee!"


So, here I sit, typing this blog.  I have few major interactions with the world.  Therefore, I understand this cartoon completely.
          So, I say to myself, "Well.  So this is what WHOOPEE has become!"  Oh, well, maybe I'll get lucky on my next flight to the East Coast! 

POST SCRIPT: Currently, I am taking care of my 99 year old father.  There is some IRONY in that isn't there?  I did not remarry, but the end game is the same as I am taking care of an old man who I have to give baths!

2010 kt

#47- DENIAL (reprint of #s 6, 7, & 8)

THIS IS ONE OF MY FIRST POSTS.  IT IS A LONG ONE, SO STAY WITH ME.  IT IS 100% TRUE.


          Ok, so there I stood with my left foot in the bathroom sink, washing the mud off.  I had been doing some light gardening in the front flowerbed and since I wasn't finished I didn't want to take a shower yet.

          It didn't take much of an effort to get my foot up there after some minor (OK, MAJOR) assistance from my right and left hands.  The problem became most evident when I tried to lift my foot out.  It had easily slipped down into the bowl when I releassed it.  But coming back up out of the bowl was another thing altogether (or so I found).

          I lifted and twisted, leaned and pulled, but my foot would not clear the rim of the bowl.  I stood there for a few seconds assessing the problem and contemplating possible solutions.

         1.   If I called (or rather yelled) to my dad, he probably wouldn't hear me.  If he did hear me he would simply answer, "WHAT?" each time I called.  And even if he did finally figure out that I needed him, how on earth would a 98 year old man be of any help?  The first thing he would do is laugh (I know he would). If he did try to  help, both of us would probably end up in a pile on the floor.  No, this won't do.  Must come up with other alternatives.

          2.   I could call 911.   Instead of saying, "I've fallen and I can't get up," I could tell them that I am a 68 year old woman with delusions of flexibility who has her foot in a bathroom sink and can't get it out.

          Nope...won't work because there isn't a phone in the bathroom.  Besides I can see the headlines now, "A NEW ONE FOR THE ANNALS".  Lamar Emergency Management team responded yesterday to the home of Karen Taylor, age 68.  When the team arrived they found Ms. Taylor standing on her right leg in the half bath of the home.  Apparently, she could not extricate her left foot from the basin.   Her father was standing near by, grasping his walker and shuttering with laughter.  When asked how this happened Ms. Taylor responded, "I was abducted by aliens and this is where they returned me!"   Well, scratch that idea.

           3.  Can't call my son for the same reasons as stated above (no phone in the bathroom and the peals of laughter which would be emanating from BOTH my son and father).

That leaves me with using my own wits (now there is a sacry thought).  It was these very WITS that put me in this predicament in the first place.  But, I went to work on a solution anyway.

          4.  Couldn't lean back onto the wall behind me because it was too far away.  I might slip and fall.  This idea will be placed in reserve as my last desperate plan.  If I did slip and fall to the floor then I could crawl to the phone, call 911 and do the, "I've fallen ... ...," routine.

          5. I could try to crawl up onto the sink and then maneuver myself back down.  No, a broken neck is not an option, not to mention HOW ON EARTH was I going to accomplish that feat?

          6. I could just sit down and my leg (and foot) would follow.  Ahhh, mannnnn! That would hurt!  No way... ...  this is right up there with #4...........keep thinking.

          7. Finally, I eyed the toilet stool.  If I put down the lid, and somehow stretched and stepped up onto it with my right leg I could simply step down with my left, then right leg.   Visions of the splits, pulled down cabinets, and my damaged body lying on the floor stopped that insanity.

          8. Then suddenly, I got the idea to just lay my trousseau down onto the toilet and ease my foot an leg from their source of pain.  IT WORKED!  Not only that, my face being in close proximity with the toilet bowl alerted me to the fact that it needed to be cleaned, and SOON!

          The sad part is that I learned NOTHING from this fiasco.  I quickly put my right foot in the bowl (since I already knew the escape plan).  I  was not going to let this small insignificant incident get the upper hand on me.  I washed my right foot, extricated it easily (without all the previous drama).  Then I sat down to consider what this all meant.  I know it has something to do with DENIAL.

          Yes, I am getting older and the things I used to do as a kid are no longer possible.  Yes, I should have opted to go into the other bathroom and wash my feet in the tub.  Yes, the sink was a dumb idea. And, yes my back and legs are aching right now.  So, if I agree with all of these comments how can I be in denial?

          Easy, I did it without thinking in the first place.  Then I did it again... If that's not denial than I don't know what is.  So what am I going to do now?  Clean the toilet, of course.  Maybe if the toilet is clean I could use it to wash my feet....................Nawh!

kt 2010

#8 DENIAL (part 3 of 3)

( If you started with this piece then it won't make much sense so, scroll down and start with part 1.)

Finally, I eyed the toilet stool.  If I put down the lid, and somehow stretched and stepped up onto it with my right leg I could simply step down with my left, then right leg.  Then visions of the splits, pulled down cabinets, and my damaged body lying on the floor stopped that insanity.

Then suddenly, I got the idea to just lay my trousseau down onto the toilet and ease my foot an leg from their source of pain.  IT WORKED!  Not only that, my face being in close proximity with the toilet bowl alerted me to the fact that it needed to be cleaned, and SOON!

The sad part is that I learned NOTHING from this fiasco.  I quickly put my right foot in the bowl (since I already knew the escape plan).  I  was not going to let this small insignificant incident get the upper hand on me.  I washed my right foot, extricated it easily (without all the previous contortions).  Then I sat down to consider what this all meant.  I know it has someathing to do with DENIAL.

Yes, I am getting older and the things I used ato do as a kid are no longer possible.  Yes, I should have opted to go into the other bathroom and wash my feet in the tub.  Yes, the sink was a dumb idea. And, yes my back and legs are aching right now.  So, if I agree with all of these comments how can I be in denial?

Easy, I did it without thinking in the first place.  Then I did it again... If that's not denial than I don't know what is.  So what am I going to do now?  Clean the toilet, of course.  Maybe if the toilet is clean I could use it to wash my feet....................Nawh!

kt 2010

#7 DENIAL (part 2 of 3)

(If you started reading here you need to go back to part 1 or this won't make sense)

So, now what?  I could call 911.   Instead of saying, "I've fallen and I can't get up," I could tell them that I am a 68 year old woman with delusions of flexibility who has her foot in a bathroom sink and can't get it up and out.

Nope...won't work because there isn't a phone in the bathroom.  Besides I can see the headlines now, "A NEW ONE FOR THE ANNALS".  Lamar Emergency Management team responded yesterday to the home of Karen Taylor, age 68.  When the team arrived they found Ms. Taylor standing on one leg (her right) in the half bath of the home.  Apparently, she could not extricate her left foot from the basin.   Her father was standing near by, grasping his walker and shuttering with laughter.  When asked how this happened Ms. Taylor responded, "I was abducted by aliens and this is where they returned me!"

Well, scratch that idea.  Can't call my son for the same reasons as stated above (no phone in the bathroom and the peals of laughter which would be emanating from BOTH my son and father).
That leaves me with using my own wits (now there is a sacry thought).  It was these very WITS that put me in this predicament in the first place.  But, I went to work on a solution anyway.

Couldn't lean back onto the wall behind me because it was too far away.  I might slip and fall.  This would be placed in reserve as my last desperate plan.  If I did slip and fall to the floor then I could crawl to the phone, call 911 and do the, "I've fallen ... ...," routine.

I could try to crawl up onto the sink and then maneuver myself back down.  No, a broken neck is not an option, not to mention HOW ON EARTH was I going to accomplish that trick?

I had already pulled up on my ankle several times but my ham strings were just not cooperating and my left leg was beginning to protest.  I could just sit down and my leg (and foot) would follow.  Ahhh, mannnnn! That would hurt!

No way... ... keep thinking.

Here's the cliff hanger.   What can I do?  How can I get  out of this predicament?  Do I find my wits?
Go to part 3.