ICIBIMNI

Hoarding-Collecting
There are many who gather aimlessly and store the "treasures" without rhyme or reason, building up jumbled piles like a kaleidoscope of randomness. Others go at it with more "order".
ICIBIMNI - I keep it because I might need it
In the Mountain Man days of the early 1800s, the trapper would lave a rectangular bag slung across his shoulder called a possibles bag. It would have everything he might possibly need during his day' trapping activities: jerky, extra bullets for his rifle, spare flints, flint and steel fire starter, first aid supplies, pipe and tobacco, etc.
A subject I know has acquired a walker for mobility, and the basket is filled to overflowing with similar items (no pipe and 'baccy). In addition there is a small plastic storage container filled with all the paperwork needed for survival in case a tornado blows away the surroundings. If anyone knows of a removable pack saddle that will fit on a walker, let me know. We're almost there.
Another symptom is saving in quantity, just in case the store stops selling the item. 6 bottles of chili powder, 24 rolls of paper towels in 3 brands, a drawer full of particular brands of candy in multiples, etc. And each item must be carefully labelled with date and time of purchase, store name, location, size, expiration date, and cost. The labels are put on with Scotch tape. If there are 8 cartons of individual servings of instant mashed potatoes, that's 8 labels. And after shopping for 4 hours, that's a lot of "stuff" to label.

Coping - Living with an OCD victim
Watching OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder) take over one's life is frustrating, to say the least.
Day by day, more habits, routines, copings take over the normal personality and it is hard to deal with the new perceived reality being experienced.
There are now "reality shows" dealing with extreme hoarders, like "Hoarding, buried Alive" on the Learning Channel. But like most "reality shows, they deal with the topic in an ambivalent manner that scratches the surface and results in a "Removal company" coming in and somewhat forcible hauling everything to the dump. Seldom do the do a follow-up,that would show that the intervention was at most a temporary fix, and that the house had filled up again, maybe in a worse condition.
I will be doing a series of blogs dealing with my experiences in coping with someone with this disorder. I do this because I have realized that my attitudes and behavior hasn't ended the problem but only soured my enjoyment of life. Please stay tuned if you have a loved one who shows one or more of the many signs of OCPD.

Nostalgia- The Death of "Music"

I wandered onto you Tube Friday night following somebody's Facebook post. Started pulling up the musicians of the Swing Era. Sinatra, Glen Miller, Julie London. Doris Day, Bennie Goodman, the Dorsey Brothers, Ink Spots, Mills Brothers, Dinah Shore, Gogi Grant, Julie Christi, Louis Armstrong, Peter Paul and Mary,etc. And I said to myself . . .

Where has all the music gone? Long time passing. Gone to rap and grunge, and no talent electronically enhanced non-singers, boy bands, and profanity-laced non-melody,non-harmony noise.

When will they ever learn, when will they learn?

Living with the Queen Mum

One rule I neglected to mention the other day is this:

"Never make rash promises that you don't understand completely."

For example, "Our home will always be open to you, and you will never have to go to a nursing home."

Bad decision

Forty years later, I'm 70 years old and the Queen Mum is 91.

She doesn't understand being a "guest" in my home, but still believes she gets to run everything.

She got up at noon today to take a shower. She finally left the bathroom to join us in evening scripture reading and family prayer at 8:30 pm.

Even though she has severe edema in her legs, they have sores and "weep", she sits on her "throne" all night long rather than putting her feet up to allow the swelling to subside.

It would be such a pleasure to have nights free to go to bed, food that we wanted to eat, and at a reasonable hour. Great to be able to go out for dinner somewhere without the whining and carping because we didn't take her, although we would wait until 10:00 pm for her to get ready.

So again, don't make promises that will sneak up and bite you in the derry aire some years later.

More Musings

If you see me driving down the road and it looks like the person in the passenger seat has a bag over her head, don't call the police. please!

It's just my mother-in-law engaged in another bout of demented activity.

You see, she believe that if she isn't wearing wrap around super-dark sunglasses she will get a recurrence of cataracts. Yes, they will return if her eyes are exposed to ultraviolet light.

Even though she had cataract surgery in 2007!

Even though she no longer has the jelly-like lenses that God gave us on birth.

Even though it's those natural lenses clouding over with age that produces cataracts.

Even though the plastic lenses inserted in her eyes (and mine ten years earlier)will never cloud over.

Recurring cataracts are oxymorons! It can't happen.

But 24/7, if she gets out of the house, she dons her "Light-bans" before she leaves the front porch. It gets really interesting if it's pitch dark because then she's effectively BLIND, and can't find her way from the car to the house.

And if she forgets them and we don't have time to go hunt for them, she puts a paper towel over the front of her face to keep light from getting to her eyes. Even moon light, as well as street lights and car headlights.

Nothing will convince her otherwise that she misinterpreted the eye doctor when he told her to protect her eyes for the first three days after the surgery. Now it's a forever ritual.

Musings of a Septuagenarian

Some good rules to live by:

1.Never draw for an inside straight.

2. Don't lend money to a friend without an IOU

3. Don't loan money to a friend.

4. Don't loan money.

5. There ain't any such thing as a free lunch.

6. Sam Houston students have a death wish, walking in the middle of the street with their backs to traffic, ear buds in with tunes blasting.

7. Jesus is the Christ.

8. If you can't take regular Freshman classes, don't attend college.

9. Rick Perry should be tarred and feathered and rode out of Texas on a rail!

10. 70 doesn't feel much different that 69 . . . but a whole lot different than 30.

Ring out the Old

As 2010 oozes under the door, everybody is posting the "best of 2010, the Worst of 2010, the Top...the Bottom, etc. of 2010", I reflect that in 3 short months I will be 70 years old. I've been around the world and to the State Fair of Texas, so I guess I've done a lot more than I thought I would at age 35! Although I've given up two fingers, lived with cataracts, diabetes, and sundry aches and pains, it's been a good life. Definitely quiet compared to the parachute jumpers, bungee bouncers, druggies and Tea Partyers.

Resolutions for the New Year? Why bother? I'll live life one day at a time. No maga-million lottery winnings because I don't buy the tickets. No steamy sex life because I'm happy with my wife of 45 years.

Started a Master's Degree in Political Science, then learned that it wasn't the study of government, but the pseudo-science of statistics. Found out that Sam Houston State University was just another money-grubbing business, not an institution of higher learning; constantly raising fees and tuition to build, build, build! The latest project is an Alumni party place, so all of the old grads can come back and get sloshed at current student's (or their parents) expense! It is going big-time into "on-line" courses and those taught at a satellite campus 40 miles away. Yup, rather than walking 5 blocks to take courses on the main campus, you have to drive to the Woodlands for your course.

The University of Phoenix II is in the future. They will eminent domain everything in downtown Huntsville that isn't part of the prison kingdom, then Huntsville won't have a property tax base at all because it all belongs to the State or has been given tax abatement status.

Hullabaloo, kineck, kineck!