~my beautiful intoxicated sisters, Karen and Joan~

Saturday, March 19, 2005
10:55 a.m.

To celebrate St. Patrick's Day (and Gary's promotion) on Thursday, we joined my sisters, brother-in-law, and some of his pals from work downtown at Kelly O'Brien's Irish pub. The music was too loud — Irish Rovers or no! — but we managed to sit there for several hours, yelling at each other across the table, until our backs got stiff.

Last night we spent the evening with Mayte and Andries and the twins at their place, for a farewell supper since Emil and Everett are flying to their dad's today and won't be back for two weeks. By that time M and A will be moved to the Vancouver area, where they hope A's paintings will find a better market than they've had here.
Our sharing of a house from September to January has netted us a lovely new friendship; one day we may fly down to Mexico to visit them, if they move back.

We laugh at Mayte's cute expressions of benevolent surprise regarding how much we love the sun here (because it is not something we enjoy every day, as they apparently do in Aguascalientes), and her shocked cluckings at how cold the spring days are, when everyone here is wearing shorts and T-shirts.

The hypnotherapy on Thursday was interesting; Mom was satisfied, she said, and she was moved by a strong message she received from her unconscious mind. It was one that made clear sense to her as she looked back on her life and her attempts to be perfect.

"That's exactly how I am," she admitted, "even now I want to have a perfect death, to die with dignity, instead of accepting myself the way I am, and my life the way it is, and my children the way they are, and my death the way it will be." It was an emotional breakthrough of some importance.

She's been saying "I want you girls to go shopping for me, for some new clothes for summer," so yesterday I stopped in at a store she likes and picked up eight tops and two blouses to surprise her with. She was thrilled. "That was just the lift I needed," she said after admiring the rainbow of colours and trying them on.

Afterward I walked her through a self-hypnosis session similar to what the hypnotherapist had done the day before, and then helped Joan and Karen make perogies so Mom and Dad will have a supply in their deep freeze for a while. They are getting two sets of company this weekend and Dad frets (he's relatively new at mealmaking) about what to prepare for meals, so we thought this would give him something quick that wouldn't require much planning.

The vacuum cleaner is grinding away behind me as Everett does his weekend chore. He's waiting for laundry to come out of the dryer so he can pack, and he's putting off his trip to the shower. Why he does that I don't know, because when he's in the shower or bath he sings, so it's obvious he isn't suffering.

Emil is still coughing like an overworked skilsaw so we took him to the doc again yesterday to make sure (for a second time) that there is no fluid in the lungs or a sinus infection. The coughing has gone on for well over a month so we are watching closely. Doc recommended a chest x-ray. We complied, but don't have the results yet. What we do have is a codeine-containing prescription cough syrup that I doubt helps at all.

Well, there's an hour and a half before we have to leave for the airport, so I'll get going — need to shower and dress, myself, and oversee the boys' packing. Everett has never flown before and Emil, though he did once when he was about six years old, seems to be excited about this trip. It will not be easy to relinquish them to the care of the Westjet staff, certain as I am that my children will be carefully looked after. What if they are scared when the plane takes off? What if their ears hurt when it lands? And I am not there? Oh dear.Typical motherish concerns, in spite of knowing they will be fine.

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