The Visit

Hillel and Dino

SNOW! Not a lot but we haven’t had naught but a minuscule, passing flurry at home. All week the weather reports for around these parts have been full of warnings of the COMING STORMS.

Now then, I lived through Snowmaggedon four years ago. I’m kinda jaded. I’m not gonna freak and fret until there’s six feet of white stuff on the ground and six more due by end of day. Granted, I still have episodes of PTSD (Post Traumatic Snow Disorder). I’m thrilled, actually, that Hillel and I have been spared the slings and arrows of outrageous blizzard-dom.

It’s pretty.

The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
~ e.e. cummings

So, how’s the visit with Daddy going? We had a rough start. He’s angry and when Daddy’s angry EVERYONE feels his Asmodean wrath, even yurs truly. Why is he angry? Well, boyhowdy, he’s living in a new place AGAIN, none of his stuff (or precious little of it) is around him,  he’s getting used to new healthcare staff, a new roommate…new EVERYTHING. He’s not home. He’s afraid. Fear and panic turn into a protective cloak of rage. I can dig it. I am, after-all, my father’s daughter.

Now, the new joint, from what I saw yesterday, is a fabuloso improvement over where he was before. It’s big and there’re a lot of lounge type areas (so a visit can be elsewhere than in the bedroom). There’s plenty of attentive staff. The food looks better. Ultimately, I think this is a good move BUT there’s an adjustment period to be lived through. I put up a couple of his pictures yesterday and will see if there’s more I can do to comfy-up the place today.

The Old Man’s not eating much of anything. He says he prefers drinking his food, it’s easier on him. He kept asking where Carol was with his eggnog milkshake. Eggnog milkshake? //shudder// Such a thing exists? I texted my older sister and she gave me the 411. We went out, got it and, like magic, he was calmed. He was more his old, outrageously sparkly self in yesterday’s visit 2.0.

Later this morning, Hillel and I will be sure to stop, on our way in, for a BIG eggnog shake (maybe two) for him.

We were stone fried and exhausted afterward so, instead of hitting the Japanese joint for a sushi fest, we came back to the hotel and it’s supposedly first rate restaurant/lounge.

Word to the wise, do NOT order a mixed adult bev in rural Western Pennsylvania (or rural anywhere I suppose). We had our hearts set on hot toddies. Ya know what the barkeep gave us? Cups of hot water, Lipton tea bags (‘the fuck???) and a shot.

Just FY-fucking-I, hot toddies are:

• 1 oz bourbon (or Jamo, I prefer Jamo – I know, yur stunned)
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice (Jen puts in a three cloved lemon wedge instead)
• 1/4 cup boiling-hot water

This isn’t the first time, here in rural America, that I’ve asked for a standard cocktail and gotten some strange-ass, child’s idea of a concoction instead.

Tonight, if I must have a toddy (and I suspect this will be the case), I’ll sit at the bar and ask the mixmaster how he/she crafts them. Yes, I will make every effort to do this without sounding like a condescending, asswipian, elitest urban tool.

RILLY!