Beam Me Up, Scotty

BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY

[TRIVIA:  This blog title is also the title of the autobiography of James Doohan (aka Montgomery “Scotty” Scott)—but the line was never actually uttered on “Star Trek.”]

No-no, this blog is not about being ready to die (although I am if that’s God’s plan).  No, this is just a note saying I wouldn’t mind being swept out of here.

“Vacation is what you take when you can’t take what you’ve been taking any longer.”

Scott’s transporter got Kirk back to the Enterprise, away from the volatile, deadly terra firma.   I can totally identify with that bumper sticker: “Beam me up, Scotty.  There’s no intelligent life down here.” David’s mom is more squirrely than ever; the lights are still on, but nobody’s home.  In fact, “This old house” is condemned. 

We are born naked, wet and hungry.  Then things get worse.

Yesterday, David gave me the day off and he cared for his mother.  For extra fun, she pulled out all the stops. (We can’t know for sure, but we expect sometimes she knows exactly what she’s doing.)  All said, he thanked me—profusely.

[Side Bar:  I do not ever want to dissuade anyone from the blessing of being a caregiver.  Most of the time it’s just fine.  Just like with any job, there are hiccups.  But yeah, you work when you’re supposed to, and when required, stop and inject coffee.]

I thoroughly enjoyed my day off—although I did get lost at one point (when asking for directions, I chose the wrong waitress, Ha).  After roaming the wrong prong on the fork in the road, I discovered something was amiss.  I tried phone-a-friend: bad idea. I called those at my destination: our connection dropped.  So I flagged down a man who was going fishing.  Either that or he was a fruitcake that likes the fashion statement of green rubber pants.  Whatever he was, he knew how to read a map, and I was on my way.

The time away from the house did me wonders.  While it would still be nice to be “beamed” to Hawaii, I’ll be fine.  But maybe I could track down one of those bumper stickers (“…There’s no intelligent life down here”), and slap it on my front door—just to warn visitors.

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This entry was posted in Caregiver, Mind Matters, Outings and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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