A stray in my brother's backyard recently had kittens. In an elegant illustration of why kittens are not about to take over the world, they have decided to make their home under the lawnmower. The lawn is obviously not being mowed:
My visit is almost over. Tomorrow I start the loooong ass drive home. I finally got a good picture of Mt. Ranier, and yes, I am 100% sure it's Mt. Ranier because it's the only volcano looming over the city:
My siblings always ask me "Well, how did Mom and Dad look?" Here's how they looked:
Today my dad and I went for a walk at the Tacoma Nature Center, which was lovely despite its lack of benches for people who a) had open heart surgery five months ago b) had a hip replaced two months ago, and c)probably shouldn't be doing things like this, not that you can stop them.
My parents had me in their forties, so I don't remember them ever being really young like my older siblings do. (My mother had all eight of my siblings before she was my age.) It's weird to watch your parents get old, especially when you missed the best years of their lives. I always think I'm okay with it, and then they get a little bit older and I'm completely shocked and scared again. Both of them have memory issues, and both of them think it's the other one
who has memory issues. They both have mobility issues, but Dad has decided to ignore his, which I sort of admire, even though it made me nuts this week. I spend a lot of time worrying about them, even though they have excellent caregivers and my awesome brother Rusty.
I just want everyone to be healthy all the time and for nothing to change at all, ever. Is that so much to ask?