Category Archives: family

Jeanne & Geography

Posted on by wiggles

“I’ll just mosey up Route 17. Why are so many cars honking?”

Our Mother Jeanne has always been a bit of a kook. Not for nothing did her children refer to her behind the wheel as “Mrs. Magoo” – and that was when she had all her marbles. As a risk-averse person, I considered being her passenger as a kid a solid 100 on the Terror-O-Meter. (Not that Daddy’s driving would have won any awards, either, but that’s another story…)

Anyhoots, the residents of Bergen County can rest assured that Hot Pants has taken possession of Jeanne’s snazzy little dinged-up roadster.

Now all Mah’s geographical adventures take place in her head. Bob & Jeanne have a woman named Indiana who helps them out with life’s daily demands. Seriously, her name is Indiana.

Well, Mah was yakking on the phone with H.P. and said, “I wonder when Kentucky will get here.”

“You mean Indiana?” my smartypants sis inquired.

“Oh, right, of course,” Jeanne didn’t miss a beat.

Well, I’ve gotta hand it to her. Indiana and Kentucky do border one another. And the source of my geographical certainty comes from the Broadway hit Show Boat. As any theater hag can tell you, baby Kim’s name was based on the Mississippi River location of her birth – the meeting up of Kentucky, Indiana, and Missouri – K I M.

I imagine Mah dredging up some long ago school assignment on the map of the USA. Indian, Kentucky – what’s the diff?

To quote Bob’s favorite American, Abraham Lincoln:  I laugh because I dare not cry.

Hef came to Bob & Jeanne’s!

Posted on by hot pants
Bob, aka Hef

Bob, aka Hef

 

I went to Bob and Jeanne’s this weekend to celebrate Jeanne’s triumphal return from her second visit in as many weeks from Hackensack Hospital. Brother Peter, who’d flown into NJ to slap some sense into his aged parents, made a Chicken Parm Surprise for lunch. Bob wanted to eat in front of the TV, which he likes to blare at a dulcet volume level of 85 so he can watch CNN around the clock and hear 10% of what the reporters are saying. But his beloved children prevailed on him to come to the table, so he reluctantly wheeled himself out wearing a devastating ensemble of Depends and a blue velour bathrobe, circa 1975. You can see how he looked, in the first image above. Andy took one look at him and said, “Hef? Is that you?”

Bob nodded amiably as he speared some ziti. Then he debonairly took a sip of Diet Pepsi through an ancient straw. Come to think of it, Hef and Bob probably do look a lot alike these days.

Is It Wrong That We Siblings Had a Blast Teleconferencing About Our Invalid Parents?

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Ever ready at the mike, our New Jersey brother calls in to the 1st Annual (Weekly?) Brothers & Sisters Conference Call.

The purpose of our teleconference was to brainstorm ways to foist support and help upon our resistant parents, who prefer to think of 911 as their sole personal rescue plan.

The result, to my everlasting joy, was a hoot-filled laugh riot as Bob & Jeanne’s offspring called in from San Francisco, Chicago, New Jersey and Manhattan.

Ever the organizer, Hot Pants set up the call. I, boob that I am, agreed to a time during which I was getting my weekly hair shampoo & blow dry. What the boys were up to, I’m sure we’ll never know. Unfortunately, H.P. dialed some other number, where she found herself the only one in the “conference room.” “Hello? Hellooo? Anybody there?”

There's Hot Pants and our Chicago brother soaking up the suds in Arizona during more lighthearted times.

Finally, she found the rest of us as we shared our individual and combined efforts to impress upon our parents that a man with Parkinson’s Disease and a woman who’s an alumna of open heart surgery, diabetic, and, now, with growing memory issues, may not be giving each other the best home health care.

But the truly unexpected surprise and delight of the call was how easily we all fell back into a loving and laugh filled sibling experience. Suddenly the decades of going our separate ways disappeared and the closeness of our childhoods bloomed back into reality.

I doubt if Bob & Jeanne intended this result, but, oh, what a blast.

Imagine the hilarity that will ensue when we actually present them with our plans. Extra in home helpers! Eventual institutionalization! Woo-hoo!

Jeanne: On Vacation at Hackensack Hospital

Posted on by hot pants

Only our dear mother could get hospital-grade diarheaa from drinking Coke.

I am not sure exactly what it all means quite yet, but it seems that Jeanne decided to quell a nervous stomach by sucking down a liter of generic Coke that wreaked such havoc on her system that she had blood in her stool and had to go to the ER.

I hysterically ran out to see her….only to discover that she is having a grand old time in the hospital. She’s downright chatty with the nurses (like the wonderful Brenna, seen here).

Jeanne's New Bestie

A volunteer handed Jeanne a little beauty package comprised of a comb that I am quite sure used to belong to Willy Loman, toothpaste, toothbrush, and some body lotion. She kvelled over this stuff like it was La Mer and took off with her “pole” in tow to the ladies’ so she could freshen up before her endoscopy.

Here’s how she looked, giddy with excitement before they dropped a camera down her throat:

She's gonna kill me for posting this, but do you notice that she posed for this photo?

Meanwhile, Bob is at home pretty much refusing to eat until his Princess Bride returns. But honestly, I don’t think Jeanne is in that much of a rush. She heard there’s a Tequila Night this Thursday that she’s fixin’ to attend. Stay tuned.

Are you Listening, Tom Hanks? Jeanne Just Made Crazy Comment #349 and It Involves YOU

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I was with Sassy and Jeanne at the infamous Chit Chat diner, where Jeanne lost Bob a few weeks ago in the parking lot. We were companiably eating our lunch (Jeanne and I had ordered identical meals: the Greek Wrap, which came with seasoned fries) and I said to her, “Mah, you know what I watched the other day? Cast Away. It was so good.”

Jeanne paused and said, “Yeah. How can you not love Goldie Hawn?”

There was a moment of silence while Sassy collapsed in laughter. Seriously, I thought she was going to pee in her pants.

“Mah, you mean Overboard?” I queried.

Goldie, you are fabulous but you were not in Cast Away!

“What, what?” Jeanne asked, after slurping her water noisily. “What are you girls laughing at? Why are you two always laughing?”

HELP! I think I Am Turning into Wiggles

Posted on by hot pants

Why, do you ask?

Look at the shoes I just bought:

Yep, I bought these Shoes. And I LOVE THEM.

They’re Easy Spirits. I had to have something more comfortable to wear on my walk to and from my job. Look at them! They’re bulky, they’re dorky…they’re NOT ATTRACTIVE.

But they are like slippers! I can slide right into them and they have a lovely zipper! So I don’t have to fuss with laces!

Even the girls at the Easy Spirit store had to search for something appropriate to say when I tried them on. “They’re nerdy, aren’t they?” I asked.

“Well, they’re no fashion statement,” one of them admitted.

But they rang up as $10 less than the already-listed sales price. So to me, it was proof from God that I had made the right decision.

The only thing that bothers me is that they belong the same shoe-tree, shall we say, as most of Wiggles’ triple-wide, style-free, slab-like footwear.  Go ahead, Wiggles, sputter in indignation. You know it’s true.

What’s next? Elastic waist pants?

Jeanne Insisted I got Food Poisoning from Eating Clementines, but She Was Wrong. I ended up in the ER.

Posted on by hot pants

Monday started out as a delightful day. Then I came back from lunch and my stomach started to clench up. By the time I got home from a dinner that featured me turning greener and greener, I knew something horrible was going to happen. And it did, at about 10pm that night. Non-stop barfing until 2am, at which time I was just too tired to throw up anymore. I laid on the bed groaning as my stomach continued to cramp in pain and bile threatened to appear. It was horrible. (I must confess, however, that I did watch a lot of TV. The SAG wrap up on FASHION POLICE and two episodes of each of FRIENDS and SEINFELD.)

Jeanne thought it was the 5 clementines I ate (they are so cute and tasty, you can’t eat just one!) but I knew little citrus sweeties couldn’t do to me what was happening to my insides.

Once 6am rolled around (really it didn’t “roll around.” I was looking at the clock to time the pain like it was a labor contraction. Every two minutes, between 2 and 6AM).  I needed help, and fast. The doorman saw me stagger out and asked what was wrong.

“I’m going to the ER,” I croaked.

He just nodded pleasantly and held the door open. God forbid he should help me FLAG A CAB, for god’s sake.

Believe it or not, there was NO line at the ER of New York Presbyterian Hospital, now known to me as THE GREATEST HOSPITAL IN NY.

I told the Intake Nurse I might throw up. She handed me a pink bucket and continued her line of questioning. Then she threw me onto a stretcher next to the Nurse’s Station. Another nurse took my blood pressure (with the arm that wasn’t clutching the bucket, that is) and popped an IV into my veins. Then she asked me if I wanted anti-nausea meds. “YES” I gasped. “Yes, please, for the love of God!”

That’s the last thing I remember until I saw this face over my stretcher, aka Heaven:

Dreamy Dr. Stern, who made the Pain Go Away

Dr. Stern asked me what happened, and I told him I suspected food poisoning. “My mother thinks it’s from the clementines I ate.”

“Really?” he said, stifling his laughter. “Let’s see what the blood tests say. I’m also going to give you morphine to help your stomach relax.”

Morphine? I immediately perked up, partially in fear, partially in excitement. I’d never had morphine!

They started the drip and it was, of course, at that moment that the insurance coordinator came over to check my Blue Cross Card and ask if I wanted to handle the co-pay now or later. Then he held up a clipboard with about 8 different forms to sign. By the end of it, I think what he got out of me resembled an X more than an actual signature. What did I care? I was in a morphine dreamland, which had me snoozing while people were coming in with strokes and heart attacks.

When the tests came back I was diagnosed with viral gastroenteritis, aka the stomach flu. Since then I have been on a steady diet of bananas and chicken soup, with the occasional ginger ale when I’m feeling wild. It wasn’t the clementines after all! One of Dr. Jeanne’s rare medical missteps. All I can say is, many, many thanks to the ER staff at NY Presbyterian. It’s my new go-to place whenever I’m in need of some good ER attention!

I Hurt My Back Again

Posted on by hot pants

There’s no other way to say it. I was carrying a chair down the 3 measly steps in my apartment that lead to the living room. My legs got tangled in the legs of the chair and the next thing I knew, I was lying on my back with the chair still in my arms. Pancake ran in to deliver some Doggy First Aid, aka lots of licks.

I minced over to the couch and called my personal physician, Jeanne. She flew into action.

“Did you twist in any way?”

“Did you bump your head?”

“Are you hands bruised?”

“Do you feel dizzy?”

She then prescribed Ibuprofen and said if the pain got worse I should go to the ER. Her final words?  ”MOVE SLOWLY, FOR CHRISSAKES!”

I pretty much looked like this.

So it’s been a few days and I am feeling better, though it seems like my tailbone is bruised. (Go ahead, Wiggles. I know this is your cue to tell the “amusing” tale about how you and my other siblings traumatized me when I was a small child, by saying Mah and Dad found me under a bridge and then shaved my fur and clipped my tail and I just looked just like a human baby).

I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, every time I hit those stairs, I try to walk like there are books balanced on my head. Is it weird? You bet. But at least I am still upright.

Crazy Jeanne Comment #405

Posted on by hot pants

She would be really mad that I am posting this because she's not wearing any makeup. But here she is, our beloved Jeanne Adele.

 

 

I called Jeanne last night. I said, “How are you feeling?”

She responded, “No, it’s not snowing out.”

After that, let’s face it: there wasn’t much more to say.

DATELINE San Francisco: Wiggles Eats with A Bib!

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Awaiting a scallion pancake, Wiggles fastens her napkin with authentic dental clips.

 

No sooner had I landed in San Francisco than the whole kit and kaboodle boogied over to Chinatown restaurant extraordinaire, the House of Nan King. We had ordered the whole left part of the menu, much to the wriggling delight of the waitress who clearly recognized the Lord & Master as soon as we all ambled in (or ran, in my case. I was freezing! I am always freezing in San Francisco.)

As Wiggles chattered away, she blithely whipped something out her purse, then clipped her napkin to a pair of dental clips, like the ones the hygienist uses to clamp the bib on during a cleaning.

“Where did you get those?” I asked.

“The dentist!” Wiggles proudly confirmed. “WHAT?! They keep my shirt clean!”

Don’t believe me? See above visual proof.