Tale Tues: Scrapped and Scraped Together

Gosh, what is my tale today. I don’t seem to have one.

Maybe because I’ve been interrupted too often by text messages from the woman who daily comes in to help my mother; they had a big spat yesterday because my mother accused her of spending her $$$ on a ball of mozzarella cheese at the market that she didn’t ask for. So said-woman left, and told my mother she could clean out her own kitty litter box herself.

I wrote back that she could be the sister I never had. You know, someone else besides me that has spats with my mother.  I’ve walked out too.

Though not before cleaning out the kitty litter pan, a truly physical balancing act for my mother who has fallen twice now trying to scoop the poop.

Now my fear is that this said-woman who is spirited and most days makes my mom laugh, who has two kids my own sons’ ages – except whom she’s raising as a single mom with a “jackass ex” who is delinquent in child support, might walk out one day. For good.

But I know her feeling. Of just wanting to walk away. From it all. From the fragile elderly mother who can vent, her only way of freeing herself mentally and physically from her entrapment, unable to drive, wiling away days obsessing over regrets, and picking through endless catalogues; the unhappy child in school who is going through a clingy “I want Mommy” stage I thought we’d long since outgrown; an over-worked husband who needs new shoes; a front porch that looks haunted, strung taught with spider webs….webs daily I sweep away, to be respun to perfection by the next afternoon:

 

Spun by spiders as dauntless as my own impatience that daily I try to “sweep” away with deep breathing and happy caffeine jolts.

Anyway, back to the said-woman: I’m not getting by in the same way she is. But we both easily could meet up at a bar over martinis and wind up dancing on the tables until dawn. Hopefully still with our tops on (though evidently that is legal, at least in New York state, baring the boobs. I wonder how many women over 25 haven’t joined this movement : http://gotopless.org ).

Anyway. Well, there it is. I guess I managed to scrape together a Tale Tues. Just waiting for that next bleep from my phone to alert me to a new text. I’ve grown to dread texting as much as the phone ringing. If you want to keep me even keeled don’t call or text me. Send me a note in a bottle.

On a brighter note, guess what: my neglected plant has forgiven me (we had a long talk) and is revived:

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About Sandra

Author;editor of The Woven Tale Press at thewoventalepress.net; mother; weaver
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12 Responses to Tale Tues: Scrapped and Scraped Together

  1. Holly says:

    Find comfort in the fact that she still has a desire to clean out the litter box. She’s actually willing to take her life into her own hands to do it. She could be one of those people who have given up on everything including keeping the pet feces at bay. 😉

    • Sandra says:

      True, HOlly. In fact, she reminded me yesterday that she’s been taking care of herself since she was 22 (When the Depression hit and she had to support her parents) and she is used to it and can to it now. She is a true survivor.

  2. Oh …my goodness, Sandra. Too many things going on at one time … I wonder how you could even scrap one tale up 🙂 –Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading this … always do!

  3. Funny, I’ve long dreaded texts far more than the phone ringing. Hate texting for things beyond hey grab this on your way to my house, and getting an address update or such things. When people say, “yeah,text me,” I think, “no, smack you.”

    Oh and I am over 25 and I am definitely not into baring my boobs in public or in front of people I’m not romantically involved with at all, so yeah not into that movement at all. Don’t want to be just running into exposed boobs like that either in unexpected places and what not. Not prude or whatever, just picky about the kinds of boobs I happen to see (I’m into guys but as a Libra aesthetics mess with me) and I’m somewhat modest and uh well if I can’t dance with someone I’m not romantically involved with without feeling uncomfortable and as though I had betrayed myself then I sure can’t with the bare boobs.

    And I have probably babbled too much….

    • Sandra says:

      love the babble, lol. I babble to myself all day long. Funny, my boys are embarrassed to bare their chests as they’re so used to wearing those sun guards at the beach…and yes, I’m with you on the boob thing.

  4. At least the plant is happy! Wow, you’ve had a trying day–don’t know how you do it all. The only reason I have a little free time today is because the tike I nanny is sick today so I got an unexpected free pass to get caught up on blogging..however, I do need to address that mountain of laundry on the couch and the stack of bills on the left corner of my desk…Nooooooooo!

  5. wow, your plant looks great!
    you are lucky to have found a care-giver that you like and can relate to.
    hope she doesn’t leave for good.

  6. What an unusual story! It gave me a laugh, though, and I did not know about it being legal to go topless in NY. I guess they had enough people to contend with for other misdemeanors so why silly up the jails with a bunch of topless women? lol… Good for a laugh anyways.

  7. Feel better knowing you’re not alone with feeling at odds with the existence of others and hassles of losing ourselves to the necessities of others. It’s not that we don’t like it, I find, I love doing things for others but at the end of the day I’m too exhausted to do the thing I’ve been wanting to do for myself.

    Things will get sorted out and your mother will have her helper back. It sounds, from an outside reading perspective, as they are testing themselves with their own independence but will both quickly realize how much they need each other.

    Life always has a way of working out, no matter how thick and troublesome the Tale Tues seems.

    • Sandra says:

      That was a very sweet and comforting comment, Sarah, thank you. I like to believe life will work itself out. But there are those days when I’m just not so sure. Days when I might do better just staring at a wall.

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