2008

It's almost midnight, and Jimmy and I have been talking about what an fascinating year it's been, historically, politically, economically, and personally. It's been a wonderful year in so many ways, and it would take quite some time to list our blessings, but three big ones are: our new granddaughter Caroline, our new daughter-in-law Elizabeth, and with Jimmy's remission, our new lease on life.

Ticked off

Last Saturday was a red letter day: Jimmy went quail hunting! He mostly rode around in the Jeep, but he did get in a few shots, and had a grand time. He went with some of his old high school buddies, and they all belonged on the disabled list: Jimmy (cancer patient), Kenny Scruggs (Parkinson's), Buddy Coleman (broken foot), and Red Dawson (bum knee). Red's brother Rhett came, too, but I don't think anything's wrong with him.

Sunday morning Jimmy woke up with a tick embedded in his neck. It was a regular sized tick, not a tiny deer tick, and I tried to pull it out with tweezers, but the head broke off. I finally dug it out with a sterilized needle, and had to really gouge the skin in the process. After the surgery, we packed up and went to the beach, and forgot about the tick.

Jimmy's neck started to feel funny, and by last night the whole area was red and inflamed, and the lymph gland on that side of Jimmy's face was swollen up like he had the mumps. Dr. Romulo Alvarado from Valdosta has a condo in the building next door, and he looked at the bite and gave Jimmy prescriptions for Erythromycin and a strong antibiotic ointment. Romulo also advised us to check with Emory, which we did, and Dr. Langston approved the treatment.

He's 100% better today, but if it's not one thing, it's another. I told Jimmy last night, "This is absurd. We did NOT get you through two transplants and into remission to have you done in by a tick."

Jake, Jimmy's little "Mini-Me"

Two-year-old Jake is so much like his grandfather, it's comical at times. About thirty minutes after we arrived at their house Christmas morning, Jake quietly went upstairs to his closet and and picked out a red plaid shirt that looked like the one Jimmy was wearing. He didn't say a word to anybody, just changed out of his pajamas and came down and climbed into his Papa's lap, dressed as much like his hero as he could manage.

Santa's workshop (a/k/a shades of Christmases past)

No-well

While Jimmy recovered from that nasty cold he got Thanksgiving, I industriously tackled an array of projects, some seasonal and some long overdue. I bought a tree and decorated the house for the first time in three years. At home I cleaned out closets, rearranged drawers, decluttered cabinets, and spruced up two spare bedrooms that had become catchalls for deferred decisions: junk rooms.

I helped younger son Maxwell move out of the little cottage on Cranford and transfer his belongings to his new bride's house. Cranford looked like a typical unkempt bachelor's pad after Max's departure, and a fair amount of work went into making it habitable so that Jackie and Mary could move in from their apartment. It sounds like a big fruit basket turnover, and it was.

I was on a roll. Mama's house has sat empty for over two years now, and I haven't had the time or the emotional energy to deal with it. My brothers have been wonderful, and have done all they could do, but there were things that, as the only daughter, I needed and wanted to do myself. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

Son-in-law Patrick, who did did a fine job helping me renovate Cranford, rented one of those huge dumpster things and parked it at the end of Mama's driveway. The dismantling began, and it's truly amazing how so much stuff can accumulate in fifty-plus years of living in a house.

The family had already claimed what they wanted to keep, so most everything left had to be sorted through and donated or thrown in the dumpster. Every drawer, every cabinet, every closet, the garage and the attic were emptied. The yardman and my cleaning lady helped me and we got it done.

During the last couple of days of The Great Purge, I felt like I was catching Jimmy's cold, and I normally shake things like that off pretty well, but breathing all that moldy mildewy dusty air of a closed up house didn't help. I caught a doozy of a cold, which allergies probably exacerbated.

Spending the two weeks before Christmas on prednisone and antibiotics and slugging down cough syrup wasn't exactly what I had in mind for the holidays, but I'm on the upswing, and it has been nice to have Jimmy babying and fussing over me. He's an excellent nurse.

And visions of sugarplums danced in his head...

If you look carefully, you can see Jimmy in the background, snoozing on the sofa.

Artists On Ashley

Annette Crosby, Pam Scruggs, and Jeanne Cowart, three of the four artists who share wall space in their gallery at 203 North Ashley Street, currently have a dazzling selection of their work for sale. (Original art makes the PERFECT gift.) Tomorrow is downtown Valdosta's First Friday, and the gallery will be open for business from 10-2 and again from 6-8 o'clock.

The phantom fourth artist (c'est moi) currently is not displaying because she claims that she has been too distracted to paint. That's about to change.

Jimmy enjoys a blueberry muffin, under Andy's close supervision

Jimmy has a cold. He hasn't left the house since Thanksgiving, but with all the rain and cold we've had, it's just as well. His immune system is still compromised, and will be for a while, and little things hit him harder and last longer.

Except for this minor setback, he has been progressing beautifully: he eats well and his exercise program was working wonders. We'll get back on track soon.

The worst thing is that Jimmy Bolen had offered to fly us down to Marsh Harbour this week, and it looks like we won't be able to go. Foiled again. We were last there in March 2007, and had planned on going back two weeks later, after my class reunion, and here it is December 2008, and we're STILL trying to get there.