Helping hand

My computer router and modem was on the fritz last night. So, I couldn't do my blog. For the life of me, I couldn't fix it. I felt badly about not writing because I was determined to write about my dad yesterday. It was the anniversary of his death. I always try to be with my mum on the day - and I've managed to do it every year since his death. We both miss him a lot. We're never morbid about the anniversary- rather we like to tell funny stories about him. Like Bill, he provides a lot of hilarious material.

I bought some Tim Horton's ground coffee and we filled the pot. We sat together in the kitchen and drained the first pot and made a second. Mum cut and washed some fresh fruit and put out some scones. We reminisced about dad but we mostly talked about Mum's volunteer work at the hospital and the "situations" she has found herself in. Come to think of it, Mum is a source of good material, too. Besides delivering magazines and smiles to the ill, she also takes care of a couple of women from her church. These women are also pretty sick, but they are not in the hospital. She runs all over town with them to take them to appointments and picking up food and sundries. I think she's nuts doing all this out of the goodness of her heart. But, she thinks it is part of her calling. She was determined to get one of the women to see a psychiatrist  because Mum felt that she was decompensating and needed professional help. She knew that if she told her 'charge' that she was going to see a shrink that she would object. So, she did what every good Presbyterian does - she lied.  When they got to the doctor's office and sat down in the waiting room, mum noticed that there was a sign near the secretary that indicated that the doctor was a psychiatrist. Mum leapt out of her chair and artfully placed  some artificial flowers in front of the sign. When they left the office, her charge asked Mum why, on earth, the doctor wanted to know who the president was and what year it was!

Anyway, now the computer is back on line. But, it totally aggravated my sleep last night. It bothered me so much that I dreamt about fixing computers all night. I tossed and turned. And, in those first few seconds when I woke up, I actually thought I had it figured it out. What an idiot.

Ultimately, it was my Emma who solved the problem. She called today to see how her Nana was doing. During the phone call she told me exactly how to fix the modem. Apparently, she's running her own help desk from her apartment in Toronto. 

"Thank you, Emma".  I can blog again tonight and tonight it turned out to be about mum.