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Life Update
Nov. 29th, 2005 10:38 amHaven't had a chance to post since the holiday. The holiday was nice -- too many sweet potatoes though. My neice, Lexie, liked the birthday gift I bought for her (a small bottle of Kenneth Cole's "Reaction". She had put on her wish list "a bottle of real perfume," so I thought this would do. It seemed very light and floral.)
Mom and Dad finally signed a contract on a new house. (Did I ever post that the contract on the first house fell through? They almost bought a second house after that one, but there were weird provisions on the subdivision. Basically, the garden homes were termed "condominiums," and we could only figure that was because a couple of sink holes had been found in the subdivision...and the developer was doing some CYA action. Mom and Dad backed out of that deal.) Then, JUST as they were about to sign on the house in Barkley, the real estate people from the first house called and said that their deal on their show house fell through. Mom and Dad could buy that one (for $35,000 more). After much debate (it is a bigger house), Mom and Dad decided to go with the Barkley house, that's only a block away (and in the same subdivision) as the house they sold three years ago. It's a smaller house. (Not much bigger than mine, actually). But it has a lovely lot with great, established, landscaping. It was built by a contractor they know and trust. And they know the neighbors. Mom and Dad decided that the upstairs space in the other house wouldn't benefit them much because of Dad's knees and heart. They thought the one story house was the better way to go. Plus, the $35,000 difference in price can help furnish the house the way mother would like. The house should close at the end of December, and they can move in during January.
On less happy note, I've developed a wretched head cold. I felt it coming on Sunday. Yesterday, I was miserable (which wasn't helped by the freakishly hot tempertures that led to tornado warnings -- and sirens -- all day yesterday.) Actually, today I didn't even drag into work until 10:30, because the Nyquil just didn't run out when my alarm went off. I phoned in, said I'd be a few hours, took a Dayquil, and waited for it to kick in before driving to work. I did stop at Starbucks on the way in to work and ordered a grande apple cider. (Did anyone know they put caramel syrup in that? That's a very nice addition.)
And finally on a very sad note, my Uncle William called last night to tell us that my Aunt Gladys died yesterday. She had been diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor a couple of months ago. They had operated but were unable to remove all of it. It was an aggressive tumor, so we knew then that she didn't have long to live. The surgery pretty much shot her short term memory, so, I suppose, there's some comfort in her not being tortured with the knowlege that she didn't have long. I can't say that I was particularly close to her. I don't think I've seen her in a few years. My mother has never particularly cared for my father's side of the family, particularly what she termed (with great sarcasm) my father's "seven 'wonderful' sisters." She holds some resentment over the way she felt he was treated while growing up. He was one of twelve siblings (fifteen if you count the oldest child, who died before the other children were born and the premature twins who died just after birth). Dad was the middle (and, yeah, kind of forgotten) child, the boy born in the midst of a series of seven sisters and whose mother died when he was a young teen (after all those babies, it was hardly a shock that her heart gave out by the time she was 50).
To be perfectly honest, I don't know that I could name all of my aunts and uncles (much less all of the aunts and uncles by marriage). There are some that I have never met. I did know my Aunt Gladys relatively well, though, because her sons were approximately my age. The three of us attended Auburn University around the same time. Still, even now I'm unsure of whether she was older than my father or younger.
The most upsetting thing was seeing how very upset my father became with the news. He cried. It struck me (with some surprise) that I've never once seen my father cry. It's strange that I had never realized that. My father is not a stoic person. He is, in fact, very tender hearted, which is why I was somewhat surprised to realize that I had never seen him cry. He's just usually such a happy, positive person...which actually brought to mind my Aunt Gladys because, though I wasn't close to her, when thinking of her, my memory is of a woman who always had a big smile and a loud giggle. She too always seemed happy.
I felt so terribly sorry for my dad because he just said "she was just that little girl the other day..." She was his sister and shared his childhood, and it hurts him terribly to have her go, even having known for a couple of months now that it was coming.
Mom and Dad are driving down to Monroeville today for the visitation and the funeral. They'll stay with my Uncle John (I have several Uncle Johns. This particular one is the husband of my mother's late sister. My Dad felt that with all of the Wards arriving, that the homes of his family will be too crowded.)
What seems especially sad to me is that in the month or so that my parents have lived with me, this is the second time that they've had to return to Monroeville for a funeral. Just a few weeks ago a lifelong friend of theirs (who in an unusual case of timing had a daughter my sister's age--12 years older than me-- a daughter my age--who was a friend of mine in high school as we were cheerleaders together -- and a grandson the same age as my eldest nephew -- who also attended the same private school as my nephew here in Birmingham and the two are best friends). Mr. Whatley had died suddenly of a stroke after having just returned from vacation in Italy (in fact, he never actually made it home again). I felt terribly sad for Mr. and Mrs. Whatley as well (I had thought of her during the holiday and how difficult it must be for her and the Whatleys this holiday).
It's all very sad.
Bless you, Aunt Gladys. Your husband, sons, daughter, grandchildren, and siblings will all miss both your smile and your giggle.
Mom and Dad finally signed a contract on a new house. (Did I ever post that the contract on the first house fell through? They almost bought a second house after that one, but there were weird provisions on the subdivision. Basically, the garden homes were termed "condominiums," and we could only figure that was because a couple of sink holes had been found in the subdivision...and the developer was doing some CYA action. Mom and Dad backed out of that deal.) Then, JUST as they were about to sign on the house in Barkley, the real estate people from the first house called and said that their deal on their show house fell through. Mom and Dad could buy that one (for $35,000 more). After much debate (it is a bigger house), Mom and Dad decided to go with the Barkley house, that's only a block away (and in the same subdivision) as the house they sold three years ago. It's a smaller house. (Not much bigger than mine, actually). But it has a lovely lot with great, established, landscaping. It was built by a contractor they know and trust. And they know the neighbors. Mom and Dad decided that the upstairs space in the other house wouldn't benefit them much because of Dad's knees and heart. They thought the one story house was the better way to go. Plus, the $35,000 difference in price can help furnish the house the way mother would like. The house should close at the end of December, and they can move in during January.
On less happy note, I've developed a wretched head cold. I felt it coming on Sunday. Yesterday, I was miserable (which wasn't helped by the freakishly hot tempertures that led to tornado warnings -- and sirens -- all day yesterday.) Actually, today I didn't even drag into work until 10:30, because the Nyquil just didn't run out when my alarm went off. I phoned in, said I'd be a few hours, took a Dayquil, and waited for it to kick in before driving to work. I did stop at Starbucks on the way in to work and ordered a grande apple cider. (Did anyone know they put caramel syrup in that? That's a very nice addition.)
And finally on a very sad note, my Uncle William called last night to tell us that my Aunt Gladys died yesterday. She had been diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor a couple of months ago. They had operated but were unable to remove all of it. It was an aggressive tumor, so we knew then that she didn't have long to live. The surgery pretty much shot her short term memory, so, I suppose, there's some comfort in her not being tortured with the knowlege that she didn't have long. I can't say that I was particularly close to her. I don't think I've seen her in a few years. My mother has never particularly cared for my father's side of the family, particularly what she termed (with great sarcasm) my father's "seven 'wonderful' sisters." She holds some resentment over the way she felt he was treated while growing up. He was one of twelve siblings (fifteen if you count the oldest child, who died before the other children were born and the premature twins who died just after birth). Dad was the middle (and, yeah, kind of forgotten) child, the boy born in the midst of a series of seven sisters and whose mother died when he was a young teen (after all those babies, it was hardly a shock that her heart gave out by the time she was 50).
To be perfectly honest, I don't know that I could name all of my aunts and uncles (much less all of the aunts and uncles by marriage). There are some that I have never met. I did know my Aunt Gladys relatively well, though, because her sons were approximately my age. The three of us attended Auburn University around the same time. Still, even now I'm unsure of whether she was older than my father or younger.
The most upsetting thing was seeing how very upset my father became with the news. He cried. It struck me (with some surprise) that I've never once seen my father cry. It's strange that I had never realized that. My father is not a stoic person. He is, in fact, very tender hearted, which is why I was somewhat surprised to realize that I had never seen him cry. He's just usually such a happy, positive person...which actually brought to mind my Aunt Gladys because, though I wasn't close to her, when thinking of her, my memory is of a woman who always had a big smile and a loud giggle. She too always seemed happy.
I felt so terribly sorry for my dad because he just said "she was just that little girl the other day..." She was his sister and shared his childhood, and it hurts him terribly to have her go, even having known for a couple of months now that it was coming.
Mom and Dad are driving down to Monroeville today for the visitation and the funeral. They'll stay with my Uncle John (I have several Uncle Johns. This particular one is the husband of my mother's late sister. My Dad felt that with all of the Wards arriving, that the homes of his family will be too crowded.)
What seems especially sad to me is that in the month or so that my parents have lived with me, this is the second time that they've had to return to Monroeville for a funeral. Just a few weeks ago a lifelong friend of theirs (who in an unusual case of timing had a daughter my sister's age--12 years older than me-- a daughter my age--who was a friend of mine in high school as we were cheerleaders together -- and a grandson the same age as my eldest nephew -- who also attended the same private school as my nephew here in Birmingham and the two are best friends). Mr. Whatley had died suddenly of a stroke after having just returned from vacation in Italy (in fact, he never actually made it home again). I felt terribly sad for Mr. and Mrs. Whatley as well (I had thought of her during the holiday and how difficult it must be for her and the Whatleys this holiday).
It's all very sad.
Bless you, Aunt Gladys. Your husband, sons, daughter, grandchildren, and siblings will all miss both your smile and your giggle.
