A DAUGHER'S A DAUGHTER ALL HER LIFE!

I finally have my bathroom back!  Well, not actually 'back', but I have an accessory that has made it a tidier place.  The saying, 'A son's a son 'till he finds a wife, a daughter's a daughter all of her life' is quite evident in my case.  My daughter and I relied on each other so much in the early days of immigration, that we became somewhat irrecoverably dependent on each other in some areas.  We have our own lives, but share so much.  We are in some ways identical, and in others diametrically opposites.  I do not have anything of my son's in my house. (Admittedly, it was not the house in which he lived, and I do have a couple of swimming costumes belonging to my daughter-in-law....)  I share a special bond with my son, and for that I am always grateful.  He is my firstborn, and we share my paternal family humour, and much more.  Without getting too emotional, I am eternally grateful for the relationship I have with him, Steph and the boys.  It is beyond special.  However, my daughter did live in my house, and my daughter could move back in without bringing anything with her and not want for anything!  Her room still has things that she will rehouse 'one day'.  My storage room has things that she will rehouse 'one day'.  Her latest 'fitness' regime, (and she has done so well with her weight loss programme,) which she feels compelled to do at my house, because I have the pool, means that her 'gear' needs to stay here during the week, and if it is needed for Monday, it may as well stay over the weekend.  Towels can be washed here.  Why take a swimming costume home?  It does make sense to keep the clothing here.  However, I have long surmised that the etymology of the name 'Samantha' actually means, 'whirlwind, with a heaped spoonful of tempest, and a lot of chaos, topped off with lashings of loving kindness'.  She is what is commonly known as a 'peach', will do anything for others, and drop everything to do so, but cannot walk into a room without the occupants feeling that they have just been 'dragged through a hedge backwards'!  However, although relevant, I digress.  Her things were cluttering my bathroom!

In my bathroom, I have a clothes horse.  It stands atop the dryer and is usually covered with items I do not put in said dryer.  In recent weeks, I have found wet shorts, tops, and other items of swimwear, draped over the rungs, normally on top of articles of clean clothing.  The towels are draped over the bath.  Other things are hanging from whatever hook-like convenience is available.

My daughter, or the chaotic, tempestuous whirlwind part, had taken over!

I came up with a solution.  I would buy another clothes horse.  Ever tried asking for a 'clothes horse' in Walmart?  Walmart in Austin, Texas?  It was the 'washing up liquid' show all over again!  Each time I ask for something that is in 'English' and not understood, my mind goes blank.  "A horse?"  Oh good, we were off!  "No.  A stand for clothes.  A thing that you keep clothes on." The word 'rack' had been eliminated from my memory, and would not be restored until I found the item.  No.  It was not a toy.  No.  It was not a closet.  I was ushered in the general direction of washing baskets, and coat racks, and I finally found the aisle that housed the 'drying rack'.  "Horse?" muttered the young man who thought I was making fun of him.  I checked the options and put one in my cart, (do not say trolley!) and went to find a shoe rack. Apparently, 'shoe rack' is universal in the English language!

It took a couple of days, but I finally unpacked the horse and placed it in the bath.  I draped the towels and clothes over the rungs, and pulled back the shower curtain.  My bathroom looked like my bathroom again, or at least what I remember my bathroom looked like.  Of course, I could never pull back the shower curtain, and see the lovely brass stand, holding ornamental soaps and little chuchkies that I use to decorate the area, because it would give way to a giant clothes stand, full of someone else's clothes!  However, it served its purpose, and I was able to walk away feeling somewhat comforted! 

The weather was showing no signs of cooling down as we headed into a week of post century temperatures, and walking outside felt as if it was an open air furnace. 

I tried to put the show rack together before work on Tuesday, but ran out of time after I had not read the instructions property and had put the connectors on the wrong poles.  When I tried to continue with the project after work, it appeared that the original poles were far too long and would not connect to the shorter poles, to make the rack.  "Can you help?"  I was relying on the 'topped off with lashings of loving kindness' part of my daughter to come to my rescue.  She had finished her afternoon work-out, had a swim, made use of her 'horse' and had come downstairs to breeze through my living room.  Her dogs were chasing each other around the room, causing the whirlwind to whirl even more!  One had found that if he jumped up on to my couch (which I was not pleased about) and burrowed himself under the cushions (which I was also not pleased about) he could hide from the other, who stood looking forlorn, wondering where on earth his brother had disappeared to.  Despite my agitation at the 'couch jumping' and ''cushion burrowing', it really was quite funny.  Then in typical Dachshund fashion as the hider appeared, the other one ran up to him as if he had been lost for years, and was so pleased to see him!  However, I digress.  The shoe rack was causing me problems.  "When you said you wanted help, you meant would I put it together", came the voice from the other end of the room.  "Yeah", I said, with a smile in my voice!  Although not an easy task, the shoe rack was made, and despite it seeming a little off kilter, it was sturdy and did the job!  I do not like shoe racks.  I would rather shoes be put away, but it is habit of all to kick off their shoes, and leave them by the back door.  It is a choice between organised chaos, and chaos!  I chose the former!

"Careful of the deer", shouted Samantha as I came down the steps.  It appeared that the mother had ran across the road to safety and the little one had fallen.  It sat in front of my stairs.  "It's momma ran away", said the voice with 'lashings of loving kindness'.  "Speak English, girl!" I said, tongue in cheek, risking the tempestuous stare, but instead I received a wry grin.  We decided that we should leave it, as the mother would not come back until we had gone.  However, by the time we had come back, it had made its way up three steps!  Raul took it and put it back in the wooded area, in the hope the mother would not reject it, but with all the noise going on around, we could not risk it climbing on to my landing, as it would probably never get down.  I smiled.  A deer on my doorstep.  By the afternoon, both mother and child had disappeared.  That was a good sign.  

I should have heeded the advisory warnings on Wednesday as at four fifteen, the heat index rose and the sun was not quite off the pool.  I swam half my usual lengths and had to give up.  In fact, I was on the verge of calling my 'topped off with lashings of loving kindness' offspring, at the risk of invoking a tempestuous response, to come and help me back to my condo.  She would have dropped everything, and the wrath would have been from fear, but it was a option.  Instead, I held my head under the luke warm water, and regained a modicum of composure.  I concentrated hard on walking back to my house, and climbed the steps slowly.  Once inside, I recovered quickly, ingesting fluids and sitting down for a few minutes.  It was a little frightening but I knew that I had just metaphorically played with fire, with the metaphorical verging on the literal!  Would it be a lesson learned?  "Texas sun and English roses do not mix", I heard the voice of the doctor saying.  Although she was referring to my skin at the time, all those years ago, I realised there was more too it.  I was still that English rose, albeit showing signs of withering! 


Who would have thought I would have enjoyed eating venison jerky!  Forty years ago I had probably never heard of it.  Twenty years ago, it would probably have seemed a little gross.  However, Jerry brought some home made slices into the office, and I sat and munched.  "Sitting at my desk, eating jerky", I said to Richard, with whom I was messaging.  We laughed at the words. I did not give a thought to 'Bambi' who had attempted to climb my stairs!    Steph had resumed work on Monday, and I had sent her a couple of messages, firstly asking her how her day had been, and secondly saying, "Oh you can't respond  because you are working again.  How good does that sound!"  We laughed at that too.  Jerky was not the only thing at which I laughed.  Samantha and I had seen a cicada laying by the side of the pool.  It had shed its shell and was entering into its brief adult life (apparently).  When we had finished swimming, we noticed it was besieged by ants, and unable to move. "Shame we can't wash them away", I said as we looked down, helplessly. "Your water bottle!" came the voice, slightly tempestuous in its ordering, and I handed over the container.  Gently, my daughter  'heaped with lashings of loving kindness' sprinkled the insect and turned it over on to its feet.  A few ants remained, but they were flicked off, or washed away.  The cicada would live another day, and then, perhaps a couple of years, or longer if it was careful!  The ants scattered and our job was done!  "That's one for the records", said Samantha.  She did not have to explain. As I walked up to my condo, the sprinklers came on and as the water gently fell in droplets on the grass, I saw the beauty of all I beheld.  

We finally dipped below the hundred degree heat, and it was very noticeable.  The weekend arrived and on Saturday morning, the 'tempestuous chaotic whirlwind' flew through my back door.  "You ready yet?" she hollered at me.  I ran upstairs to get my things, and was blown back by the storm that demanded I 'get a move on'.  We were early, but had a lot to achieve! I remembered the time when my mother shouted at her mother for not doing something, and then at me, and thought how wonderful it must be to be at the age where you can shout at your child, and your mother, and get away with it!  I realised that my grandmother and I were probably the shoutees rather than the shouters and each misses a generation!  We shopped, sang to seventies hits on the radio, and laughed quite a bit.  We collected a few things for our gal at the office, and came home.  "No, I am not staying.  I have my own house, and things to do" was the response when I asked if she would be joining me by the pool.  "Your own house....?" I said, knowing the response I would receive.  "Nope I will take that another time" was the response I knew I would received when I pointed to a bowl that had been sitting on my kitchen table for the best part of a week.  Thankfully, Texas has 'laid me back'!  As she walked out of the door, I heard the familiar sound of a tsunami about to hit shore.  "Dana!  Wait!  Don't leave your car there!  I am going, but you can take this.  It's got to go to the office".  The words, 'little finger' and 'twisted around' came to mind.  He moved the items for Kelly out of Samantha's car and into his without a word.  I went to get ready for a relaxing afternoon, as the trees shuddered and the leaves waved.  The whirlwind was heading over to the next county!


My afternoon and evening were pleasant.  I read, I swam, I even slept some on Saturday afternoon.  It was glorious.  Dana, not perturbed, nor haunted by the effects of the commands he had been ordered to follow, came down to the pool for a while.  It made a nice change.

There are still several issues that I need to have resolved regarding the contents and storage within these walls!  Being a hoarder, I cannot simply box things up and in two years throw them away, on the proviso that if you do not use them within a certain time, etc., etc.  I am caught in my own vicious circle!  I would not change the 'whirlwind, with a heaped spoonful of tempest, and a lot of chaos, because it is very heavily 'topped of with lashings of loving kindness'.  She is my daughter all of her life!  My best friend.  Whether I ever get my house back though, is very obviously ......... another story!