Pearl--or Pearlie Mae--or Auntie Pearl

I just found out, my blogger friend Balisha's son Tim, passed away.  The had given him six months--which always instills a bit of hope, but a few days later, he was in trouble and they transferred him to the Hospice area and within a few hours, he died.  Her husband posted on her blog this morning.  I am heart broken at the news.  We had all been praying so hard for him.  I wish I were closer to her so I could just go and hug her tight!!!  May 18, 2:00 p.m.
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Something you have to know about Pearl.  She does not like the name Pearlie Mae.  I called her that once and she got very incensed.

"Don't call me that.  I'm not from the South!"

Okay.

So the next time she came down, she stepped into my house and says, "Buddy--Maggie--Auntie Pearl is here."  So, now when she comes in, I say, "Auntie Pearl is here,"--she likes that.  Then she pets Buddy and shakes her finger in Maggie's face until Maggie swipes at her and catches her with a claw, then Pearl yells and says, "The little brat just clawed me!"  and I say, "I've told you--she thinks your playing with her."  And that routine goes on every time she comes down to visit.

Pearl is not very emotional about anything.  She doesn't cry very often.  If I get tears in my eyes, she will say, "Now don't start that!"  She likes to argue about everything--mostly stuff she doesn't know or doesn't remember.  You see--Pearl has a hard time remembering things.  She will start a conversation and then forget what she was going to say.  She will look at me and say, "Now--don't say anything until I get this whole sentence out."

 So, I sit quietly and wait for her to talk--sometimes, in the middle of the sentence, she can't remember the word she wants--then she looks at me and says, "Oh--you know what I'm trying to say?"  and I will add the word I think she is trying for and usually I am correct because I have been listening really hard and trying to figure out where she is going with her sentence.  I don't think she has dementia, but just really forgetful--at least I hope she doesn't have dementia.

I think this whole argument has actually been good for her mind.  It has caused her to think and search and read and really get into it so she can prove her point.  Thanks for your knowledge about "the trees".  I have now found out that the tree Pearl is referring to is a Tulip Poplar.  The tree I have is a Tulip Magnolia and then there is the Regular Magnolia--which I don't think grows this far north--but I may be wrong about that.  I've never seen one in this area.

Anyway--Pearl's mother left her Dad when Pearl was two years old.  She was raised by her grandparents and they were quite indulgent of her.  Things are to be done her way.  She is always right--even when she is incredibly wrong, but I have found, it is best to let her "win" in all situations.  When she gets something on her mind, she will go after it like a dog with a bone--no one better get in her way because she is going to get whatever she wants.  Like the whole cat scenario.

She was very upset on the way home because every cat she went to, either swiped at her or nipped her.  She said, "I just don't understand why none of them like me."

So--I told her.  "Well--in the first place--to go up to their cage, open the door quickly and stick your hand in--you scared them and they defended themselves the only way they know how.  You aren't suppose to open the cages.  You go up--place your palm flat against the cage and let them smell you and rub against you.  Then you ask one of the workers to open the cage--I mean--there's a sign right there that says, "Do not open cat cage doors."  Then if you are interested in one, the worker will get the cat and bring it to you in the cat room and you sit in the chair and let the cat get used to you."

"Well--there were too many workers in that room anyway.  I didn't feel comfortable."

Then when we got home, I went in her place for a minute and Merle, her hubby was there and he says, "How'd it go?"

and she tells him the story about the cats hating her and he says--in his droll way, "You probably scared 'em."

She looks at him and then at me and rolls her eyes.

Okay.

She wants a cat to cuddle.  Her's won't.  I can see why.  He walks by--she reaches out, grabs him and holds him up close to her to hug him.  He turns around and nips her hand and she throws him on the floor.  Strange because he never bites me--but then I don't grab him and hug him.  I let him come to me and then I lean over and talk to him and pet him a few times and go sit down.  I found out yesterday from Bethie who works at an animal shelter, that front de-clawed cats tend to be biters--that is their only defense, so I will pass that on to Pearl also.

This is a woman that use to breed bull dogs--you'd think she'd know how to relate to animals!

When she and I went to the nursery across the road to get our annuals--she started planting hers the minute she got home.  I walked down to see what she was doing.  "You got your plants in yet?" she asks.

"No--I'm going to wait until the fifteenth--in case we have a late frost."

"Oh--we won't have a frost," she says.  "It's almost Mother's Day!  I used to work in a florist shop--I know all about plants."

Okay....

So--on Mother's Day night, when it was predicted to get down in the 20's--I see her out there near dark, running around the yard laying towels and sheets over all her annuals.  I went down to help and didn't say a word.

She has severe back pain all the time--and neuropathy in her legs and feet.  She's the one that got the shots in her back with the bad cortisone last fall.  Thankfully, she never got meningitis!!!  Now she is going to another doctor to, "Get a Cortisone shot in my hip."

"That's what you got last fall in your back and it didn't help." says I.

"I didn't get Cortisone---I got something else--it starts with an M."

"You mean Depo-Medrol?"

"Yes--that's it."

"That is a corticosteroid--like Cortisone--it helps relieve the inflammation in your joints or tissues."

"No--Cortisone is a pain drug."

"It helps the pain because it relieves the inflammation," says I.

"NO!  It's a pain drug."

Okay.....

"Do you want me to take you to the doc to get the shot?"

"I don't know," she says.  "Should I get it?  I'm taking that pain medicine--what's it called--it starts with a T."

"Tramadol."

"And that other pill--starts with a P."

"Prednisone?"

"Yes--that's it.  You should be a nurse--you can remember all the names of all the drugs."

"I only know them because if a doctor wants me to take them--I research it and find out the side effects and see if I should take it or not.  A lot of those anti- inflammatories can cause real problems with your system.  I don't think you should get a Cortisone shot if you are on Prednisone AND Tramadol."

"Well, my doctor told me to get the shot.  Wouldn't she know what I am already taking?"

"Not necessarily."

So whether she gets the shot or not--I don't know.  If the injections in her back last fall didn't help--they never helped me--I don't know if the Cortisone shot will help either...but, it might for awhile---it's up to Pearl!!!

So--this woman is opinionated.  She will flat out tell you to your face if she thinks what you say or do is stupid or wrong.  She can be so wrong about something, but will not listen to anyone who tries to inform her.

She got mad at me because I wouldn't go out shopping with her because I wanted to watch the NCAA basketball tournament when MSU was playing--she hates basketball.  BUT--she won't move from her chair when the World Series is on TV--she loves baseball. 

She repeatedly yells at me because I drink Diet Pepsi and it isn't good for me.  Yet, she will sit in her chair and eat half a bag of chocolate and complain that she is eighty pounds overweight.  Her doctor told her to walk and exercise and lose weight to help her arthritis--she won't--just sits in her chair.  I ask her to go out with me for a "short" walk--she won't.  I say, "but you need to walk to keep your joints working."  "I don't care," she says and then complains because she can't walk from the handicapped parking spot to the door of Wal-Mart.  She thinks I'm a snob because I don't like shopping at The Salvation Army.  She goes at least twice a week. She orders all that stuff on the TV ads--gets it--it doesn't work and she throws it out.  She spends huge amounts of money that she can't afford on the TV infomercial junk.  Her hubby gets frustrated and keeps his mouth shut.

She won't go shopping at Wal-Mart with me anymore because, "you left me in the store!"  Because, when we first got there we agreed where we would meet.  She went out the wrong door.  I looked for her on the bench because she had finished before me--she wasn't there, so I thought perhaps she was in the car, so I went out.  Pretty soon--I see her standing way down the way at the opposite door--so I drove down and picked her up.  "Why did you leave me in the store?  I am never going shopping with you again!"

"I didn't see you waiting on the bench, so I thought you were in the car.  You came out the wrong door."

"What bench are you talking about.  Didn't we come in this door?"

"No--we came in the retail door--this is the grocery door. There is a bench down by that door--you know, by the pharmacy.  We agreed to sit and wait on it--whichever one of us got done first."

"I didn't agree to sit on any bench!"

Okay..........................

BUT--- she would give you the shirt off her back.  She came down to my house every morning for 6 weeks and fed my cats and cleaned the litter box-while I was in hospital, rehab and after I got home with my hip surgery.  She checks every morning to see if my bathroom blinds are up--so that she knows that I am awake.  If they are still closed by 9:30--she is on the phone seeing if I am all right.  She has a key to my house in case she needs to get in--in case I'm dead in bed or out, flat on the floor.  I have to beep my horn when I go by her place on the way to anywhere and beep when I return, or she gets worried.  One day, I forgot, and she called me.  When I didn't answer the phone--she walked down here before she realized my car was not in the driveway.  If she knows I am going to Wal-Mart, when I beep on the way back, she sends her hubby down to carry in my heavy stuff.  Needless to say, I call and tell her every time I am going anywhere!!!

It is nice to know someone is looking out for me--even if she thinks I'm weird.

Even if she goes through the exact same routine every time she gets in my car.

"Dammit--your doors are so stiff to open!"

"Oh--dammit, why is your seat buckle so hard to get in?"

"Turn on the air (or heat)--I'm too hot (or cold.)"          
all this before we get out to the street.

"Why are you driving so fast?"     
well--the speed limit is 50 and I am going 46.

"Turn the air (or heat) down--I'm too cold (or hot.)"

"Watch out for that car!"

"I hate your shoulder strap--I'm unbuckling it!" 
if I get pulled over, you are paying the fine.

I rode with her...once.  She narrowly missed taking out two mail boxes in the park on our way out to the road.  She drives in the right lane with her two outside wheels, often on the shoulder because, "One of those cars could hit us head on!"  She drives 35 in a 50 mph zone.  People blow their car horns at her.  "Boy," she says.  "It sure is noisy out here today."

When she parked--she took up two spaces.  Sort of parked over the dividing line and kitty corner-wise. When I noticed I said, "You might have to get back in and re-park the car.  You've taken up two spaces."

"I don't care, they can just find another space.  I don't want someone banging their door into my car."

Her car is 16 years old, rusted out and I don't think anyone would notice if it got a new ding in the door..  Besides, she uses the handicapped slots and you know how wide they are?  She takes up TWO!!!  That is why--I drive when we go together!!

She is crotchety.  She is blunt!  She is a hoot.  I love, Pearl!!!
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I heard his call and saw him--finally!  I haven't seen one in 15 years.  A Baltimore Oriole!!  He and his mate came back for lunch--I tried to get a picture, but the batteries were dead!  He came back just a few minutes ago and I finally got him.

He seems to prefer the orange to the grape jelly.  It is an off brand of

jelly--he probably is a connoisseur and prefers Welch's?

I sat down to eat my supper and this is the view that greeted me across the room.  This picture of Buddy just cracks me up!!

He's on his way to a nap in the early evening sun.

Maggie couldn't care less about napping.  Not when there are

red squirrels and birdies to watch.  Her jaw quivers--she just wants

to get out there, bite off their little heads and drink their blood!!!

Have a great weekend--I hope you aren't in the storm/tornado area!!!