Jaci Dawn

I think this post could be filed under “So what did you do over Thanksgiving weekend?”

On Wednesday, I had a complete melt-down. I think it just really hit me that I was not going to be able to call my dad and yak at him about nothing.

On Thursday, dinner was going to be for three of us: Don & I and a friend Don invited. The friend, as always, was a no-show. He’s been a no-show for years. But we still invite him.

My blood pressure edged into Hypertension on Thursday and I was very thankful I did not have any one else here at home. It hit 167/101. I told Don that if I could not bring it down in a few hours, I wanted to go to the ER. I got it down to something manageable, around 144/98. But I was still pretty scared.

It was 114/70 on Friday morning.

Friday, we were going to go cut down our tree but given the snow levels have fallen below 3,000′ elevation and the type of tree we want grows above 3,000’… We bought a skinny one at a tree lot as they were getting set up.

We braved one store for Black Friday and that was because I needed to use the bathroom. Right. Now. But it was a good thing we did because we found presents for two grandsons. And I didn’t pee my pants.

My blood pressure soared again and I had to rest and bring it down. I’m taking hawthorne berries, living on high potassium and low sodium diet – I haven’t changed anything. I didn’t call my doctor only because I was able to bring it back down.

Saturday, Don left to go on a hike with Murphy. Harvey and I took a long walk in town. I bought groceries and started the process of taking down Thanksgiving decorations. I was tired a lot, so things moved pretty slowly.

I finished the last book in Suzanne Collins’ YA Sci-fi trilogy the Hunger Games series, Mockingjay. It was excellent.

I started reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. It is better than excellent.

My blood pressure continued to go up and down: high in the afternoon, normal in the morning.

Around 5PM yesterday, I received a message from Don that he was stuck in the mountains and wouldn’t be home. Don’t worry: he made it to a cabin with friends, he just wasn’t going to make the 90-minute drive down. So I hijacked his computer and posted some of his photos.

This morning, I decided I wasn’t motivated enough to start decorating the tree even though I had hauled out all the decorations the night before. I wanted to read another chapter in my new book. So I was curled up in the chair when Don came walking in with Murphy.

Walking. Key word.

He made it almost home this morning. The alternator started dying on him before he got to town. He got up the steepest hill, but before he could make the final climb to our house, the Explorer sputtered to a standstill.

I spent my morning waiting for AAA to come tow it home.

At least Don picked the historical section of town to have car troubles in.

He broke down in front of two homes on the National Register of Historical Places.

I say hysterical, you say historical. We used to make our oldest furious with us by deliberately saying hysterical. She’s mellowed with age.

We’re thankful Don spent the night in the mountains instead of trying to drive home in the dark with a dying alternator. We’re also thankful for AAA.

After we towed the rig home, Don removed the serpentine belt and the alternator, and then I took him to Napa Auto Parts. Then home. And while he replaced the alternator and serpentine belt and set the battery up to charge, I actually put out the first round of Christmas lights.

Then it started raining.

Then the boys came over to pick up Roxy.

Do all kids do this? I want to take photos of grandsons, but they have to hold up their toys.

“Take a pitcher of Tomater, Gamma.” Tomater is a word all little boys can say.

“No, I want a photo of you.”

“Oh. OK.” And then he wants me to take a photo of his hat, too. Seriously, Javan?

We were right back to taking pictures of their toys.

Candids work. Here Woody and Buzz Lightyear are having a very serious conversation.

No wonder his kid is chubby! He devours toys, too! Here we see the ‘other’ Woody going feet first to his demise.

I’m thankful for grandchildren.

And that, aside from several loads of dishes and laundry through the respective time-saving devices (dishwasher and clothes washer), was my weekend. (And, boy, howdy! Am I ever thankful for those machines!!)

Tomorrow I go back to work. And I call my doctor to confess my weekend.

(My brother thinks it is residual grief. I’m hoping he’s right, but I think I still need to see the doctor.)