We don’t need no stinkin’ handicap sticker

Aaannnnddd… The truth is that “we” really don’t. Walking even a block to and from the car is not a problem. It isn’t even all that slow. I’m impressed. The hard part about this is that “we” are still in limbo here. No call from FV yet. No real need to be living in the long-term care. I am sorry. I schlepped the five hour trip up the I75 SUV Speedway this morning and sprung The Commander for the afternoon. I brought her up to the Squatter’s Paradise (her house), where she puttered and I telecommuted to my work. And then we went to “fish” out at the Cozy Inn. It was all great and fish was really a good thing to do. I know The Comm had a good time talking to *friends*! People who know who she is and what she’s all about. People who know who and where they are and can carry on a sentient conversation. Alas, I had to take her back to long-term for the night. I cannot do 24-hour care here. I am alone in this venture. I do not live here and I do not want to move here. I am not a care-taker type of person from the get-go and I am just about stretched to my limit. Nevertheless, I continue to second-guess myself.

I am really pretty okay tonight. I was going back in time today as I was driving up through the northern lower. Thinking about all the *fun* expotitions over the years. Junkets to Petoskey or Charlevoix or through the Jordan River Valley with the Beach Urchins in the back of the old POC playing with their puppets, reading, drawing, whatever. Yarn store boondoggles to Alanson and Mackinaw City ending with lasagne and “gin margueritas” (margaritas?) back at the moomincabin. Death biathlons along the south branch of the Au Sable River with the Twinz of Terror. Arriving back at the Ski Ranch after a good ski and finding The Engineer (!!!) and his family there. I wanted to be doing those things today instead of driving up the Speedway… (I guess I am *still* doing death biathlons with the Twinz but none of the other stuff will ever be quite the same again.)

Anyway. I am here again, telecommuting from the Squatter’s Paradise and waiting not very patiently to hear from FV. This trip I *am* gonna resume my walking schedule. I neeeeeeed that! And we really do not need a handicap sticker. At the beginning of all this, I thought we might. But anyone who can walk three blocks to eat Monday lunch at Penny’s Kitchen does not need one.

Incoherently yours,
Boomerang Woman

P.S. Speaking of old minivans, thank you to Isa for the Mother’s Day card. It has an old minivan like my red one and it says, “Mom, thanks for always picking me up.” I was not always the best at being a mother but you can bet I was *always* there to pick my kids (and usually half the neighborhood kids) up! (Er, I still haven’t sent you your Easter candy…)

Oh, and thanks to the Goddess Esther for the call and support tonight. She does not read this blahg but I am thinking I owe *her* a Mother’s Day card.

3 Responses to “We don’t need no stinkin’ handicap sticker”

  1. TMOTU Says:

    It is lonely in A2 without the 21st century nomadic enigma…

  2. Kathy Farnell Says:

    You are doing a fine job taking care of the Commander. She is lucky to have you for a daughter, and I’m sure she knows it.
    As for the Handicapped sticker, you might not need it today, but it can’t hurt to have it handy just in case an emergency comes up. I think you should have it – just in case. You have had a few surprises already, and it does not hurt to be prepared.
    Thinking about you and the Commander often!

  3. Margaret Says:

    I’m so glad that you don’t need any sticker and that you’re both getting around well. I sometimes get exhausted reading your posts; I drive 7 minutes from school to work and vice-versa. Occasionally I stop at a store along the way. I know you like to drive, but I don’t very much. If I had the brand new mean green machine…