*i thought I'd read this one to help smooth the transitions. (it's pretty rough)
http://homepage.mac.com/amv12/iMovieTheater37.html
If you'd rather read it yourself, the content is below
: )
Good Morning,
Last weekend only minutes before my fateful run-in with the po-po, I stood in the driveway and hugged my father good-bye. he said with an uncertain expression “you’re going to write about me again aren’t you?”
"yep."
okay, so... when I went home for my grandpa's 90th, I quickly learned Judy (Dad’s girlfriend) would not be joining us at the celebration.
Judy had had a surgery which as a woman made me shift uncomfortably in my chair and clench. she was thankfully at home and recovering.
I dutifully followed Dad’s tassel shoes laying fresh tracks in the carpet and smiled as he proudly held up the basket of GET WELL flowers he had tastefully arranged and displayed on the living room table.
"Wow that’s great dad, they’re pink."
I returned to the kitchen sat back down…squirmed and clenched.
Interesting question/observation:
What are the rules for dating? After 60, you’re likely to be disappointed because your significant other is more likely to prove to be fallible or human sooner than you’d like...
It’s difficult to watch with the simple return of one phone call a grown man’s (or woman’s) face go from
"We’re having a ball!" to "who do I call?"
Later that evening we learned Judy had been readmitted to the hospital (she’s okay now).
I stood concerned and clenched as i listened to my dad navigate a tricky telephone conversation with a harried nurse at the nurses' station
(Who are you?
I’m her uh…significant other )
anyway,
Some things that make sense to the thirty something generation those dating after 60 struggle with.
when two people are maintaining two residences it seems very natural for those with monogamous histories and intentions to move in together after a year of dating. the price of gas alone just about demands it.
this "move-in" suggestion made at a "father-daughter breakfast" halted the hash-browns trip around the plate (tippy tap food arranging)
I said, "why doesn’t Judy just move in with you? it sure would seem to make sense!"
Somehow this meant a marriage must occur first. Something to do with church, God, and men who get too comfortable...
anyway
it's hard. i never know what to say. Do you praise the morals they tried to instill in you? yes! "let the marriage bed be undefiled!..." (as such and so on for the Iraq)
or do you encourage the "sin?"
("because uh some people out there in our nation don't have maps and i believe that our education like such as South Africa, and uh the Iraq everywhere like such as and so on..." Miss Teen)
An interesting thing happened after the divorce. Things started disappearing from the Kid's bathroom. The soap dish was filled with decorative soap as the messy pumper action one was sentenced to crust and harden in the hall closet. The friendly Daily
Clarifying shampoo no longer welcomed a beleaguered first step into the shower. Instead it was L’Oreal reminding you that someone’s hair needs volumizing.
The basket with extra toilet paper? Gone.
The stool for magazines, the repository for bathroom lit? …gone.
The only item that seems to have stayed the course throughout this transition is the toothpaste. When packing the overnight bag, this is the one item I know there will be a reprieve for if it does not make it into the dop kit. Nestled deeply in a drawer
underneath the bathroom counter space is a lonely tube a Crest. It sits next to the flat purple comb I plucked from the bag of goodies in the beautician's shop one x-mas. I’ve come to truly appreciate its Spartan existence—(the toothpaste. The comb is still a puzzlement).
Although I could not be convinced to bring my dress up to standards, I did not want to arrive at the 90th with 90 year-old breath. That is, like any other reasonable person I went into the dimmer switched guest bathroom to brush my teeth.
I bent low to open the toothpaste drawer.
And... What?!!!!!!!!!!!!???
Something needed to be explained. (see photo). The Kids' bathroom drawer has NEVER looked like this before. I recognized my purple comb…but this drawer had a lot more in it than toothpaste. Lip gloss, eye-liner, mascara, lip pencils, little blush brush.
(Dad has a live-in girlfriend! or a new hobby we need to talk about!)
Dad was safely barricaded behind three closed doors. I opened the door to MY bathroom and politely knocked on his bedroom door. “uh, Dad, can I borrow some toothpaste? My er the other bathroom is all out.”
"Okay, sure," the muffle voice echoed through door and I heard the door open to his bathroom. The bedroom door cracked and out peeked Morning Dad’s head. He handed me the toothpaste. I gave him a sly little grin…”um, Dad, there’s a lot more in that drawer these days than toothpaste.”
Ooops. he’d been caught! He stood. His face lit up as he half-heartedly made the attempt to hide a shit eating grin.
I smiled right back. "You don’t need to say anything. I’m just sayin'. I think it’s great…or if you have something else you need for us to talk about (cross dressing, entering drag shows) I’m here to listen."
He laughed some more. Door closed.
Final investigative report. It had spread. Underneath the sink. It’s terminal. There’s razors (lady razors) and a plastic tub filled with all the unmentionables…nail polish remover, make up cleansing wipes…). In the shower, there's Dove moisturizing lady shampoo AND conditioner.
So, what I learned…
The Dali Lama has a medical condition that requires him to eat meat so he compromised with his doctor. he decided he would be a “part-time” vegetarian. He would eat meat every other day.
God told Stephen thou shalt not give appearances of committing adultery unless it’s on weekends.
Happy Monday,
Amanda
The used to be #1 daughter : )
