Today, my sister Meta has her prom, Nana and I are going over to see her dress around 3 p.m. We're all really anxious to see what it looks like because Meta let my mother make it. This comes as a shocker because lil Meat used to be the epitome of everything froo-froo and girlie. When my mom made my prom dress six years ago, Meta was appalled and said, "I will NEVER let Mom make my dress!" Oh how the times have changed...

I love Pop and I love my new cat. But so help me God, I hate when Pop sees the new cat, because every time he does he does this strange cackle and goes "MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW" really loud. Its annoying. Really annoying. And I can tell you the cat does not appreciate it either - she usually runs away.

Oh my...

So if there is one thing I have realized that upsets, surprises, and baffles my grandparents above all things, its my love for high heels. I bought a pair today that has a five inch heel - effectively making me over six feet tall. Nana gasped and asked if I was street walking when I showed her and Pop stuck out his cane and said, "Here, you'll need to borrow this!" Granted they are some pretty wild heels - and here's a picture below to prove it - but I didn't think a shoe could cause this much commotion.

Lazy Sunday

It certainly was a lazy, lazy day. I don't even think Nana got too much done in the garden. Pop just alternated between his chair in the living room to his chair in the porch - but to be quite honest I didn't do too much more than that myself. I did however manage to hook up and successfully use my scanner despite it having fallen several times on the floor. So with that thought I leave you these two pictures I found of Pop and his friends. And yes, we still have that Nazi helmet...

Happy May 1st

I feel like I'm always making excuses for why I haven't written, but truth be told if I wrote down everything I felt like this would just be the most depressing blog out there. Living here has almost become like that movie Groundhog's Day, where day after day after day the same thing keeps happening. The latest scene to keep repeating itself is the great shower battle.

Every other day I'll wake up to Pop swearing downstairs, followed by Nana trying to convince him to take a shower. Every day Pop swears up and down that he takes a shower every day and doesn't need to take one now. He has showered probably once this past month. He refuses to let anyone cut his hair saying he does it himself and that it looks fine. It doesn't. It's a hot mess. But trying to reason with him about this is probably just as effective as reasoning with a brick wall - that swears.

It's strange that Pop no longer wants to bath because he used to be the most fastidious person in regards to cleanliness. He used to spend ours in the shower and doing his hair. Ask anyone in our family - his vanity is legendary. Now its a battle to get him to do the littlest hygienic chore.

But now on a completely different note, my writing was just now interrupted by a door to door salesman - or rather in this case saleswoman who sounded like she was 12. Up until I moved in with my grandparents I thought door to door salesmen were a thing of the past, but here a weekend doesn't go by where someone doesn't come to our door and push cable, lawn care, phone service, etc down our throats.

This little woman came up, told me what she was selling, I said no. She wouldn't leave. I closed and locked the door. She kept talking. I walked away. She didn't stop talking. She then proceded to leave a hanger on our door. I then proceded to open the door back up and rip it up in front of her. Now I understand we all have jobs at some point or another that we don't like doing and are solely to pay the bills, but when someone tells you no thank you - move on. Don't taunt the customer with, "Are you against saving money? Is that your reason??" Don't poke the bear.

A couple weekends ago, Nana and I are watching this 18 wheeler drive slowly down our street with the side of the truck wide open. We assumed it was a delivery truck that got lost, but we were surprised when a guy came to our door with a southern drawl as smooth as molasses hawking the furniture in the back of the truck! He and his partner were literally driving door to door selling the couches, tables, and whatever other goods they had out of the back of this giant trailer. It was bizarre to say the least - but at least he thanked us for our time and kept going when we expressed our disinterest.

How could I forget??

WE GOT A KITTEN! And yes, yes I know I sound like a 6 year old child, but its the first pet I've gotten to raise from a baby. My step-father's dog, Kiwi, was already old when we moved in with him; my parents' most recent dog, Gina, was also fully grown when we adopted her; and Kitty Cat is going on 21 years at Nana and Pop's house. But now, I finally have a little animal to truly call my own. Her name is Moots (pictured on the left) and we got her last Saturday. She looks remarkably like Kitty Cat, except her face is black. She is ten months and is probably about 4lbs.

She's as cute as a button and Kitty Cat (on the right) HATES her. The first day he saw her he hissed and spat and took a lunge at her. For now I keep her in my room until we can trust Kitty Cat not to attack her when we're not looking - they'll work it out eventually. I never realized how much spunk the old boy had in him. He ran after her faster than I've seen him move in years - mind you this is the cat that more or less heaves himself on the couch rather than jump. However, boys will be boys, I guess.

Speaking of boys... I don't think Pop has yet realized we have another cat. We've told him and I'm sure if anyone asks him he'll agree with them, but I'm not quite sure its really sunk in yet. Good ole Pop even went so far as to yank Nana's chain tonight by saying, "Cat what cat?!? We don't have any cats!!" He claimed afterward he didn't count Kitty Cat because he was more like a piece of furniture (that's how slow and sedentary this cat is!!). Haha, oh Pop. Well that's enough about cats for now. Until next time...

Love this time of year

Everything's getting brighter, the days are warmer, and things are a bit more cheerful around here most days. Pop had a doctor's appointment last Monday or Tuesday, and he got really good news. That pesky dry skin rash seems to have disappeared and the doctor said he could stop taking the Benadryl, which was causing most of his drowsiness. Pop was feeling so good, he went for a walk - get ready for this - down the street! That's right, he walked down to the corner of S. Pine Creek and back, which is probably the furthest distance he's walked since he started feeling sick over a year ago.

In addition to removing the Benadryl from Pop's medications, the doctor also said Pop's blood work was perfect and he gained 11lbs. Pop is going back to the office in a few days to get yet another scan to see any concrete conclusion can be reached about the state of his cancer (all other tests thus far have come back inconclusive). All in all, its been pretty good news. It doesn't change anything around here - Pop still carts that damn walker around and still doesn't want to take up radioing again - but a little good news now and then is always nice to hear. Good news, good weather, really, who could ask for anything more.

Ever watch an old man battle a cat?

It's like an old cartoon that has somehow been transferred into real life and slowed down. For instance, Pop just spent several minutes holding the door open in the kitchen and yelling at the cat to "get the hell in!" or "just get out already!". Meanwhile, the cat sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and stared at the door.

Just about every night before dinner the cat lays in the middle of the kitchen floor right in front of the table. Just about every night Pop will come rolling in with his walker yelling at the cat to get out of the way. Aaaaand just about every night the cat refuses to move and Pop is forced to roll the walker over/around him to get to his chair. One of these days I WILL catch this on film and broadcast it for everyone to see. I is quite possibly one of the most hilarious things I have ever seen.

It is the frequency and regularity of this dinner time ritual that tickles me pink; however, one of the greatest battles between Pop and Kitty Cat is even better. One day, the cat decided he needed to have a little nap in the living room, in front of the heating register - in front of Pop's chair. Pop rolled on into the living room and started to yell at the cat. The cat didn't even look up. Pop proceeded to poke the cat with his cane. The cat merely looked up to see what was jabbing his enormous belly. This went on for several more minutes until Pop finally gave up managed to step around the cat and get into his chair.
I never thought I would see the day Victor Debbs Politi got out-stubborned... and by a cat no less.

What to do, what to do...

Without the Olympics to distract her all hours of the day, Nana found herself missing the consistent and constant stream of engaging television. Now she has to go back to watching the Biggest Loser. Poor Nan. And poor Pop, at least when the Olympics were on he was mildly interested in what was going on. Now he's back to just sitting with his head bent down over the daily crossword.

Needless to say its been a slow day here on Flax Rd. Nothing really to write about except a few disjointed thoughts and ramblings. Let's hope tomorrow brings something good.

Today is my birthday

Yes, today, at 6:30 a.m. I turned 23. Here's the great thing about living with my grandparents: as old as I felt compared to my sister and the high school kids at work, I can still come home and feel young compared to my roommates. Even the cat, who celebrated his 21st birthday this year, makes me feel young and spry.

Another good thing about living with my grandparents: when customers at work asked what my plans were for my birthday I told them I was going over my parents' house to have a nice dinner. This made me appear like a independent young person living on my own - not like a moocher who's "landlord" doesn't really ever keep track of rent.

All in all, it was a good day. Pop was crabby but fine all day. Nana had to go to the dentist and will soon be getting a titanium "fence" to secure her three front teeth. Between the titanium fence and her metal knees, she will be the scourge of all airport security.

He's as stubborn as a mule

I only have a quick story for today due to the fact I have slept for the greater part of it. Last night I celebrated my upcoming birthday with my friends and had made arrangements to stay at one of their houses. I told this to Nana and Pop, and made sure they remembered to lock up later that night. Nana was really tired and went to bed early - she had been up late Friday night until about 3 a.m. because Pop had a low blood sugar scare. Before she went off, she told Pop I wasn't coming home, the house was locked up and all the lights were off.

Wouldn't you know it, when she woke up this morning, all the lights were on, the doors unlocked, and everything opened up. The little bugger went around the house and undid everything Nana made sure to do. Of course he claimed he had no idea what she was talking about and said he didn't remember a thing. At this point, we're not even sure if he's telling the truth or not. All we can do is just shake our heads and make sure we go to bed after him now...

So where have I been?

Well, the obvious answer to that question is not here, not writing about Pop, not trying to keep people involved and updated on his progress. The sad truth of it is that there is no progress. The chemo finished months ago and even though the cancer has appeared to "go away" and Pop no longer has any pain (that he's telling us) in his back any longer. However, the doctors have found no conclusive evidence in the follow up tests the cancer is actually gone. They have all come back "inconclusive."

So even though we here on Flax Rd are working off the old standby "no news is good news," we have in all effect lost Pop. He no longer shows any interest in doing anything with his radios or emails or even the crosswords on some days. If you ask him about his radios he will either tell you, "Oh yeah, I go down there every once and a while and tinker a bit," (which is an outright lie) or as he told me the other day, "I don't feel like it, I'm tired, I just wanna sleep these days" (which is just outright heartbreaking).

Nowadays, Pop's schedule consists of eating and sleeping. Literally. He gets up for breakfast, sneaks back in the bedroom, wakes up for lunch, and as soon as Nana turns her back he sneaks right back into the bedroom, wakes up for dinner and usually asks if he's had lunch, and on a good day he'll do a crossword and watch some television with Nana. Bed, chair, bed, chair, bed.
Its been hard for me to start up writing again because its hard to have to sit down and face what I have to write about. The cancer is gone, but so is everything that I remembered about my grandfather. His vibrancy, his silliness, his passion. Every once and a while - when company comes over mostly - he shines through again and its easy to pretend for a while the old Pop is back in action.

For instance, last Friday at the bi-annual celebration of the Politi birthdays, Pop had a grand ole time swinging his cane wildly and hitting the balloons someone brought. He also took great pleasure in blowing vigorously on the party favors - he alternated between little tunes and morse code. He had a blast until he got up too fast from the table and took a tumble backwards. He landed on his bottom and was not seriously injured, but sadly it put a damper on the party and reminded us all that he is more fragile than any of us want to really acknowledge.


Such as it is, we shall continue to muddle through as we've been doing every day and I will continue to keep this updated for you lot. Until tomorrow...