Mightiest of the crepes

So, Abby has been on a crepe kick. She keeps on making crepes, and all kinds of interesting things get put in there. Becca, upon looking through the cupboard, discovered the best crepe ingredient ever known to man.

Still life of father and son

Geology of Florida - the Post Office

I've also decided to do a few posts about the local geology, because well, that's what I do. Driving past the post office today, I decided to stop because it's constructed of these fabulous limestone bricks.




All of Florida is basically made of limestone, which in turn is made up of the calcium carbonate detritus of sea creatures. Since the state is now mostly above water, we can conclude that either the water was higher or the landmass was lower in the past. Zooming into the block, we can see that it has a high percentage of corals in it. This is very informative- for the most part, coral doesn't live as far north as Daytona Beach.



But can we tell even more? In this case, we can. Looking closely, we can identify the specific genus - Montastraea. This is a common Caribbean coral that has been living around here for around 10 millions years (maybe more).



However, one more detail is really useful-- this particular Montastraea shows a columnar growth form in places! That means that we're specifically looking at Montastraea nancyi, an extinct form named by John Pandolfi that lived from 600ka to maybe 85ka. This means that the rock we're looking at is the Key Largo limestone, which is loaded with these kinds of corals. The Miami limestone also has abundant corals - but of different species. This shows how handy paleontology is - just looking at the fossils can tell you not only how old a rock is, but where it's from! Clearly, the architect decided to invest in shipping this rock a long distance instead of using anything more local. I think that was a good choice, since it's a pretty cool rock.

PS- The species name "nancyi" means, literally, more than one Nancy. It's names after two well known Nancys that are preeminent in the world of fossil coral - Nancy Knowlton of the Smithsonian Institution, and Nancy Budd of the University of Iowa - my MS adviser.

One way to fill time

I picked up a big bag full of delicious on the way home yesterday. What could be inside?



We need to get just a little closer...



Holy smokes thats alotta oysters! A half bushel was 20 bucks at the seafood store, so it seemed like a good idea at the time. Opening oysters isn't difficult, but it does take time.





Grandma took one look at the oysters and started make gross faces. She doesn't like them, but she refuses to try them. Ilmars, on the otherhand, loved them. I earned about 1,000,000 good nephew points.

Grandma continued to pet the cat and look at us woefully while I made my way through several dozen. Need to remember to get more lemon.

Grandma's room

We started here...



And now we're here.






Yes, they're the same area. You can tell by the lamps.

The other side of grandma's room also needs work. The office is also starting to come together.

Cleaning up

Today was nicely productive. I started cleaning up in Grandma's room, and in the office. Ilmars worked all day in the office, trying to get everything organized.

He came out of the office with a little folio he found, and offered it as a gift.



Pretty cool.

I also found this picture in a broken frame.




I wonder who drew this ship? We'll look a little more closely...




How adorable. Ilmars said he wanted to keep hold of it.

A/C at the other place is supposed to be fixed tomorrow morning, and I need to make a quick run to the hardware store. Everything else seems to be going alright!

Grandma's smile

Meanwhile, a week later...

At this point, Ilmars has made a complete turnaround. I think he’s off alcohol. We’ll see how long it lasts.

The other house is completely rented out, the lease is signed, and I just have a handful of other things that need to be attended too. The A/C guy is coming this afternoon.

This morning, Ilmars got up, did the dishes, made coffee for grandma, put out the recycling, and from there kept on taking care of business. He put some moisturizing lotion on grandma’s face, which was sort of humorous. Ilmars was shaking, and grandma was giving him a face the whole time like a cat in a shower.

The main reason there hasn’t been much writing over the weekend is that I wasn’t here. I spent it in Detroit with Abby’s family. Two big events were happening there; her cousin Ethan was having an engagement party, and her grandmother is moving from there to California. Abby’s grandmother has developed some serious health problems and needs to get surgery. The prognosis isn’t particularly clear, but it’s not good for her. Sadly, I was surprised when we saw her and she knew exactly who I am. I’ve gotten too accustomed to Natalie’s near incoherence.

The only other thing I’m going to write about this weekend is that I’m shocked and aghast at how condescending Abby’s father is towards her brother, Sam. Sam did a really good job at getting into trouble during high school. He is a lot of fun, and also quite awkward. Not surprisingly, he fell into a crowd during high school that was accepting of him and appreciated his fun-loving qualities. What is surprising is how criminal this crowd was.

In any case, flash forward to now, and Sam is in college. He’s joined a fraternity with a dry house, and has dedicated his energies towards that. It’s working great for him. He even has a summer job on campus.

And Abby’s father basically treats him like a moron. Just about anything that comes up in conversation is followed with him questioning, “Do you know what that is, Sam?” The truth is, he’s really interested in the things he’s interested in and knows lots about them. He’s doing landscape work, and he spent a lot of time over the weekend pointing out various plants he knows. It doesn’t really matter that he isn’t up to date on current events; when the time comes that they’re important to them, he’ll master them. Let me master what he wants to. Don’t condescend at him because he has different interests.

It’s obnoxious.

Anyways, back to today.

I get home after a long day trying to get some details squared away at the other place, and Ilmars is having dinner with grandmother. He went grocery shopping, and I help put the food away. We exchange bad beats stories; his about trying to get his car’s brake lights fixed, and mine about trying to get the A/C working over at the other place.

Finally, the first time since last week, I see him get a beer to drink. I wonder if he just naturally does a switch up – one week on a bender, one week off? We hang out and watch the Yankees gang. I make grandma tea before she heads to bed, and we chill. Ilmars is joking and generally pleasant to be around.

Jason called long time family friend Mark Jones, and Mark is really concerned about what’s going on here. At the state Ilmars is right now, I think things would be alright with a little additional effort. We may just need a near-full time person there. Right now, Ilmars seems okay with that. I hope that this works out.

Today was boring. Super boring. Seems good!

I spent almost all day at the Holly Hill house working on getting it ready to rent. I should be finished tomorrow.

First, I brought a 5 gallon bucket of water to flush the toilet with. Pour it in top, pull the handle, and bingo, all your Golgothan shit demons get flushed away.

I did some miscellaneous cleaning and set up an add on Craig's list. First call was 10 minutes later.

I needed to do some regrouting in the bathroom. Getting the old stuff out took a while.

That first couple that called came to look at the house, they liked it, and we're gonna meet tomorrow to see if we cant get the deal finished. Ding!

And yeah, sunset swim in the ocean. The water has been amazing, and kept up today.

Hobo Wednesday

Yes, I get to write a story about hobos. I’m sure you’re all very proud of me.
Grandma is up at 9 and I start the coffee. She asks for just a bite of cereal, and asks how I’m doing – and keeps on trying to tell me not to worry about the drunk. We’re sitting down and eating when Ilmars comes out. I tell him we need to talk, but he just shoots on by saying that he’s late for his appointment. He’s gruff and dismissive. Appointment with who, I ask? Joey.
Grandma asks where he’s going and I say I’m gonna follow him. I wait inside till he’s heading down the street and get in the car.
You get one guess where he went.
You’re right! It’s Danny’s!
Danny’s opens at 7am, and by the time I get there – about 10- there is a whole line of drunks getting their morning juice.
He’s not happy to see me. I say we need to talk, he asks me what about. Different day, same conversation. He’s dismissive, and says he wants me to go. In another small coup, I actually get to tell him what will make me leave: grandma gets daily care, and the Holly Hill house is rented. Unfortunately, he is dismissive. We chat about the Holly Hill house, with him defending his actions and trying to pin me on not taking care of stuff. He eventually calls the bartender over and tries to get me kicked out. The bartender is nice, and just tells me that family business shouldn’t be talked about here. I agree with him, and say that I’d be happy to do it somewhere else if I could. I head out into the sun.
When I first got down here, I picked up Dad’s old house keys. I pull them out again and look. You know what, I think I have the Holly Hill key. I bet it’s the one that didn’t fit any of the Bel Aire dr. locks.
I’m right.
As I’m turning onto Center Ave, there are a bunch of police at the 7-11 on the corner, and some kid face down in the grass. I pull into the house, and try the key.
I had this key last time I was here, I just didn’t put it together then.
I head in, and the place seems fairly clean and in good shape. It needs to be swept, and there is a little bit of work that needs to be done. Strangely, there’s a sleeping bag and a two liter of root beer under the counter in the kitchen, and a square foot of plaster has fallen off the bathroom ceiling.
I go over to the neighbors and check in. The first one is a nice old guy named Bill. He’s suspicious at first, but quickly warms up to me once he finds out who I am and what is going on. He says the place has been vacant for maybe two months, and that the neighbor across the street saw vagrants going into the house. Ah, so the sleeping bag belongs to the hobo. It all comes together. We chat a little about the neighborhood, I tell him that I want to get someone in to rent the place, and he’s happy to hear that. I thank him for his time and head off.
I decide to go tell the cop by the 7-11 about the hobo. Cpl. Pool tells me to change the locks and put up a no trespassing sign, and that has worked every time someone has had this problem in the ten years he’s been on the force around here. He’s a nice guy, and helpful. I thank him and he wishes me good luck.
I move the hobo bag out onto the porch and decide to check in with the other neighbor.
A young lady, maybe about my age, answers the door. Just her nose sticks out as I explain who I am and what’s going on. I ask if she could call me if he sees anything suspicious, and she goes for paper, opening the door. She’s not wearing a shirt, just a blue lacy bra. When she comes back, though, she’s wearing a baseball jersey over it. Ah well. We chat about the neighborhood, I give her my number, and I thank her for her time.
I head home.
Ilmars gets home at 11:42. This is the earliest he’s ever gotten back. He sits down, asks me to hand him a beer, and tries to have a conversation with grandma about the house on Richmond. He says he’ll go to the bank and find out how much is in the account.
He’s back and we start talking business. He’s reasonable. I think he realized that getting rid of me is worth letting me help out. It’s a good deal.
He agrees that he needs help with grandma, but says that Joy was rejected by her. He says we should get someone.
He agrees we should have someone in the Holly Hill place. I say I’m gonna go there in the afternoon. He agrees that we should rent it out, and he says that they were renting it for $700. Grandma says $500, and he says that $650 is fair if we get the right people. He says to get a security deposit plus 1st month’s rent before they move in.
Seems good.
We chat, and it’s good. Ilmars is downright cheery. He says he’s happy I’m here and he knows my heart is in the right place. Wow. He’s fun to hang out with and is joking.
At 1:45, he gets in a fight about his poetry with grandmother. He starts yelling at her, and she stays calm. I step in and tell him to let it drop. He calms down instantly. A few more minutes of chatting, and he retires to his room.

It's the curtains for me!

Mars gets up late, and offers grandma breakfast while I’m sitting there with her. He spends maybe 20 seconds in the kitchen and then runs off while Grandma is trying to tell him to stay and talk for a minute. He refuses and says he has to go out, and stumbles quickly away. Grandma kept yelling at him to stay and talk, but he didn’t listen.

By 11, his car is by the bar. I arrange an afternoon appointment with a lawyer to talk about legal possibilities.

Anna is over when Mars shows, about 1. Anna starts signaling that she needs to leave. She doesn’t want to stay when the drunk is around. They used to be friends, and they got along well. He used to bring her flowers, and candy, thanking her for keeping an eye on the house, and grandma. She says he’s changed for the worse. All the old family friends say that. Mars has a hamburger for grandma. He eats half the Kraut that Anna brought for grandma’s lunch, and scurries back to his room.
He gets some coffee for grandma, but when she asks for sugar he growls shoots back that she can eat it or not, he doesn’t care, and goes to his room. I’ve not seen him spend more than five minutes at a time out of that room, except when I try to get him to talk. And then, he mostly asks what I’m doing here until he ends up getting nasty.

In the afternoon I go out for my appointment, and when I get back Mars is in his room. I make dinner for grandma, and then I head out to get some WiFi. I get back around 8pm, and Mars is gone. I’ve got a ripping terrible headache, and take a sunset swim in the ocean. The water is perfect, and when I get back, I call up my brother and tell him what’s been going on. Afterwards, I start catching up on my reading the news and working on my writing.

Mars gets home about eleven, and comes right over to me. We chat a little, and he starts off really nicely, asking if I’m staying for the duration- aka, forever- and basically says that I should stay. But within a few minutes, he’s back to telling me to leave, that I’m annoying him. He keeps asking what I’m doing here, and I tell him. Every time that happens, he gets crankier. I’m cleaning up, I’m feeding grandma, I’m keeping her company. Each time, a notch in meanness. He starts obsessing over my belly, calling me obese. I guess it’s sometime he feels he can lord over me about. I should lose some weight. I tell him I made a choice- when I went back to school, I started exercising less, and put on weight. There was a consequence of my choice. He dwells on this, as if a foreign concept. He finally gets up, walks across the room to the end table and pulls out a handle of whiskey that he had hid there.

“Well”, he said, “I choose to go drink my whiskey!”

An hour later, he comes out and makes a sandwich in the kitchen. He is now noticeably drunk in a way he wasn’t before. He’s slurring his speech. He seems looser.

He comes over and sits on the couch again, and goes into the same old questions about what I’m doing here. There’s an edge to his voice. I get to the point where

I’m talking about cleaning, and mention how yesterday he was angry that I destroyed the couch, but now it’s back together and clean.

He looks up across the living room. “NOW YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR!” he yells. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE CURTAIN?”

I blink, taken aback, and answer, “Mars, I was cleaning over there. I opened the curtain. It’s open.”

He growls back, yelling about how I’ve destroyed it.

I pause, involuntarily cover my face with my hand, and I point. “It’s right there.”

He pauses, looks at it, and yells at me to put it back.

“No”. I inwardly remind myself that I’m in charge, and if he wants something done,
he needs to ask. Calm. Stay calm.

He stumbles over and pulls it tight, thankfully not falling over in the process. He retreats to his room, yelling at me to get lost.

But at this point, I’m not very calm. It’s the rush of conflict, and I’m not falling
back asleep anytime soon.

Twenty minutes later, grandma gets up to go to the bathroom. On the way out, she pauses and looks over, and then comes over.

She starts by muttering in Latvian, but English starts slipping in. “You need sleep. You big boy, eight full hours, no staying up playing games on computer…”

“Grandma, I’m up because Ilmars was yelling at me.” I repeat the point again, and it clicks and she starts nodding sagely. This is something she does extremely well. I explain simply what happened. She starts comforting me. She does her best to give me a hug over her walker.

“You know, you can not get mad. He is drunk, he is not in right mind. Best to ignore.” She continues giving me advice. The tone in her voice is full of sympathy, a little sadness. Her words are matter of fact: she makes it sound like we’re the grownups dealing with a nasty child. Don’t get upset, he doesn’t know better. “He is drunk, he is nasty. Does bad things to brain. He does not mean, not worth being upset.”

It works. I do feel better. She continues, telling me to go back to sleep and stop playing on the computer.

I came here to take care of grandma. I never expected her to help take care of me.

Monday - brief overview

Got behind, so just my notes on the important things of monday:

I make breakfast and coffee for grandma.
Talk to mars about the situation. He gets mad and starts telling me to get out, but grandma comes and saves me. She yells at him that he has no right to treat me that way.
The guys are here doing the yard work when mars gets home, and he ignores them. He starts by asking me what right I have. I ask if he has a responsibility to his family; he says he does. I ask if I have a responsibility to my family; he says I do. I point out we have the same families.
He asks what right I have, as if he didn’t hear me answer him.
I make chicken quesadillas for dinner, and go swimming at the beach in the evening.

I don't sleep much.

Sunday, a day for Mishka.

I’m woken up at 5:30 am by the call of “Mishka, Mishka!” Grandma is looking for the cat. She rouses me, and sends me in front to test the cry of “Mishka, come home!” The cat, of course, ignores this and does as he pleases, even if he is around, which he usually isn’t. Grandma tells me to try out back, and when I tell her that it didn’t work, she apologizes for waking me up and heads off to bed. I go back to my couch and crash again.
Some hours later, I’m woken up once again by a family member; this time, it’s Mars, sneaking out of the house and heading for the bar. Grandma is in bed still, and I go to turn on the coffee. The machine is already on; but it didn’t make coffee. It looks like Mars ran water through the machine without replacing the grounds, so the result looks like tea but doesn’t take nearly as good. I re-do his substandard work. As much as I would like think that it was grandma’s being absent minded, she hasn’t woken up yet, so he must have done it. I rouse grandma and we have breakfast.
She’s still doesn’t remember my name all the time. I decide to work on it, by quizzing her throughout the day.
Mars shows up at 2:30 with wonton soup for grandma. He heads off to his room. At 3:15, he comes back out to the living room where grandma and I are sitting with Mishka. He tells me that he needs to pay me for the work I’m doing – he says that $200 even is what he thinks he owes—and follows it with a gentle suggestion that I should get paid and leave. I ask him if we can do the ceremony for Dad – the fishing boat, to distribute his ashes—while I’m down here. He glares and asks how long I’m staying. What I should have said is that I’m staying till the situation down here is up to my standards, but I don’t, instead blurting out that I’m staying a while. Grandma helpfully points out that school will be starting in September, and I say I won’t be there that long.
Before I can follow this up, they get in a fight over the fence that grandma wants to put up in the back yard. This is one of the common tropes in grandma’s delusional ranting – she thinks that there are neighborhood kids that are coming down the hill in the back yard and that we need a fence to keep them out. Once she reaches this point, she has a really strong grasp on what we need to do – measure the back, check at city hall about what types of fences are allowed. And she knows when it’s too late to go to store tonight to get the materials.
Anyways, Mars gets frustrated after a few minutes of trying to tell grandma that we don’t need a fence, in Latvian. He stalks off angry and frustrated while grandma is calm, but a bit confused. I quiz grandma about my name. I break down and tell her after she starts guessing.

Since Anna didn’t make it over, I decide to take her back some of the Tupperware that she left to dry in the rack. There’s always some over here, from the lunch she brings for grandma. There’s not actually any good reason for me to take it back right now, but it sure is a handy excuse to go visit. Her daughter, Annie, is over, and she’s just as sweet. Two hours go by before I head home. We talk about a lot of things, and exchange stories about grandma.

I catch grandma in bathroom, taking out her dentures. Grandma heads to bed and I kiss her goodnight. I ask her what my name is. She looks stumped, and mumbles a little bit, deep in thought. Thirty seconds later, she blurts out "KRISTOPHER!"

I don't think I've ever been happier in my life.

Shortly after, Mars heads outside, saying he’ll be back soon. I assume he’s off to the bar. I waste some time playing some solitare and working on my writing. I’m on the front porch trying to get a post up on the blog when Mars gets back. It’s after midnight.
He’s toasted, and holding a bottle of whiskey in a paper sack.
“Hi, Mars. How’s it going.”
He plops down in Grandma’s wheelchair, right across from me.
He slurs, “Mmm, wha are you doin a tha computer?”
“Writing.”
“Mmm. Hwws grama?”
“Eh? Oh, grandma is fine. She’s in bed.”
He’s wearing his CPO Club ballcap, and he tilts his head so his eyes just line up under the brim. I think he means it to be an intimidating glare. It mostly works, especially when he grins. It’s not a friendly grin when he points it at me; it’s the one that shows teeth. Like a cat raising the hair on his back or a puffer fish blowing up its spines. Stay back. This is my territory.
“Wha are you doin here?”
“I’m here because my brothers and I are concerned. To make sure that you and grandma are okay, to make sure that Dad’s stuff get taken care of.”
He frowns, “Yah, wha are you doin here?”, he repeats.
Shifting the subject, I say “What about taking care of Dad’s ashes? The fishing trip?”
“Whell, I sen da one halv to Latvia, just like the will said” he spat back, turning to his side. He picks up a box, about 7 inches square. Dad’s remains. He hands then to me. We talk about the remains, and he says that we need to contact Mark. He’s the one that’s supposed to be in charge of the event. I agree, and say we should call in the morning.
“Whell, ahl pay fer you, and mahself, buh ahl ask evrywon ahls to chip ihn 50 bucks….”
“That’s not what the will says.”
He glares. Puffer fish. Puff.
“You want me to go get my copy and read it for you?”
“YEAH.”
I grab it from the car and sit down again. He’s still in glare mode.
“I hereby desire and direct that … my ashes be distributed into the waters of the gulf stream current on a big game fishing charter… I desire and direct that Mark Jones arrange and supervise the distribution… uhm, there’s the list of people to be invited, starting with you, Ilmars….”
I flip the page.
“I hereby desire and direct that the sum of Two Thousand Five Hundred dollars be set aside for the distribution of my ashes and be given to whosoever incurs the expense of chartering the vessel for the distribution of my ashes.”
“I ahlredy pah for da cremashun, wha hav you pahd?”
“Mars, you’re getting off the subject.”
He glowers, and explains that he doesn’t have access to Dad’s money. That he needs to cancel Dad’s social security. That he gave Gus the portfolio with all the information about the accounts. Or was it Jason? OR WAS IT ME?
“You’re getting off the subject again. I know the family has money from the house on Richmond.”
“AH” he cries, “AHR YOU AFTA DA MONEY?”
I shake my head. He is back on the attack. He attacks well, driving at anything he sees as a potential weakness. “Mars, I’m here to make sure that things are taken care of. My brothers and I are concerned about grandma, and you.”
He starts talking about the money he owes me, repaying me for the lawn work and getting the A/C running. Two hundred dollars.
“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you, and grandma.” To be honest, I’m much more worried about grandma. She needs care, and her family is responsible. We’re responsible. She can’t do it herself. Mars needs help too, but he still is capable of getting it for himself. And he’s the only one that can start the push to fix his alcoholism.
He glares, and attacks. “Wha hav you dohn?”

“Well, for starters, I made her breakfast this morning.”

“Ah bra home dinnah!”
“So, we’re even. Alright.” We’re not, actually. He’s supposed to be responsible for all of grandma’s meals, not just some of them.
“WE AH NOT EVEN!” he yells back.
Puffer fish. Puff.
“I also got her fresh clothes yesterday.” Okay, that was with Anna’s help, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. “When’s the last time she’s had a bath?” is the second. I shouldn’t be pointing out his errors, belittling him. But his yelling is getting to me.
“Ahhh, Joy cahms and bathes hur, she dahs…”
“When was the last time she was here?”
“Uhh.. uhhh… las week….”
I growl back, angrily, “You’re lying!”
“FUCK YOU!” he howls back.
“OUT. OUT. LEAVE.”
I stand my ground. He glares. He yells some more. I quickly go through the scenarios. He can’t call the police; I have just as much right to be here as he does. He can’t successfully batter me. I weigh twice as much, he’s drunk and weak. I stare back.
Puff puff.
He carries on, saying he’s going to cut that check so that I can get the hell out. I sit quietly, and after a few minutes of bravado, he peters out.
“You should go to bed. We should talk about this in the morning.”
“Hmmm. Ghood ideaa.” He sounds reasonable, checks himself, and then fits in a glare just for good measure.
I get up and go sit on my couch, the one I’ve been sleeping on, right next to where Mishka is lounging. I pull out my laptop, thinking to calm down. Mars comes in, and sits on the other side of Mishka.
“Hmmm, wha are you doin on the laptop?”
“Playing a little solitaire, to calm down.”
He growls, “I shoul knock it outta yer hands…. ”. Puff.
I ignore him, and he threatens to destroy my laptop again. In the meantime, he’s started petting the cat, and is mellowing out. Mishka purrs and stretches. I feel like I’ve got an ally. Mars stops frowning. I say that the cat is a sweetie. He nods, matter of factly, anger seeping out.
“You should go to bed. We should talk about this in the morning.”
He nods, and stumbles off. I start to think that Mishka is the best cat ever. I reach over to pet the cat, and notice a wet spot where Mars was sitting. He drunkenly pissed on my couch. I start to think that maybe I didn’t win this exchange.

"That was the hippy time. Horrible time."

Grandma's wisdom

“Gustavs needs an older wife. For he is full of baloney.”

Friday

There were some things that happened Thursday night, but I don't have them typed up yet. In its stead, we have the events of Friday, during the day.

At 9am, grandma is up. I make her coffee, and we chat.
Chatting with grandma mostly involves listening to her tell a story about the past. Most of these stories take place in 1919 or 1920, but the content varies. I think the stories are mostly true, but she’s just lost track of when the occurred. Her favorites seem to be the one about hippies and one about living in Russia.
I call the A/C company that Anna recommended. They confirm the info, ask what I think the problem may be, and so forth. They say they’ll call when they’re coming out.
We head out to the front porch to hang out. She says, “You got to have great willpower to do right things. Wrong things can be done any idiot.” It starts to rain, and grandma starts gossiping about the neighbors. Grandma thinks Mishka is at the school. I hear some noises in the back, and figure that Mars is up. From where I’m sitting, I can’t see what he’s doing.
Two minutes later, Mar’s car starts and grandma jumps.
“The car! The car! Thief!”
“No, grandma, that’s Mars.”
A moment’s disbelief, and then “That coward! He is scared of facing me!”
I tell her that he actually doesn’t want to talk to me, but she reasserts the uselessness of Ilmars. And yeah, of course Ilmars doesn’t want to see me. I’m here to upset the balance of his life. The fact that I am here testifies to his inability to keep everything on the up-and-up. Fight or flight. Some people, faced with an affront like this to their authority, will man up and try to take control. Fight back. To reassert themselves. Ilmars doesn’t seem to want to fight any more. It’s just after 10 in the morning.
Grandma starts into a new story about a synagogue and pigs, and that segues into a story about going back to Latvia with her mother. And her 40 chickens.
The mail comes. The only thing that’s relevant is Dad’s car insurance. I decide to take care of this. It’s not a big thing, but it is a bite-size task.
We have a little lunch, and I call the insurance company to see what I need to do to cancel it. They say I should bring over the death certificate.
After lunch, I go and take care of it. They’re polite, and say they’ll send a check for the remainder. On the way back, I detour down Seacrest boulevard. It’s the closest little strip to the house, and it’s full of bars and restaurants. That’s why I’m here, actually. Not to go in, but to see where uncle is. His car is sitting on the cross street closest to Danny’s, as expected. Danny’s is the kind of place where you go in at 9:30 on a weekday, it’s packed with old alcoholics. Mars fits right in
His car is easy to spot, with a halo of oxidized steel highlighting the rear wheels. This was almost doubtlessly where he was last night, until they closed.
Coming back home, Anna is bringing lunch for grandma and is very pleasant. Anna tries to spend some time with Grandma every day, but she won’t come over when Mars is here. She brings lunch for grandma, cleans up the kitchen, and listens to the stories. Grandma calls her an Angel, and she’s right to do so.
I go to start up the mower. There’s not much grass, but some of the weeds are getting pretty high. The mower seems in good condition. The starter cord pulls smoothly, and the engine turns. Oil level - it’s good. Gas level – bone dry. I jump in the car and am off to the Exxon. I get two gallons of gas, and stop by the ICEE machine. It’s broken. The soda fountain, also broken. Sometimes things work and sometimes they don’t.
The mower starts with little effort once there’s gas. It’s set to cut very short, but it works. Back and forth. Back and forth. The lack of grass means little resistance, and it doesn’t take long.
Anna heads home and grandma starts telling me to strip and take a shower. Oh, grandma.
She goes back to the story about escaping Russia, saying “If you don’t own nothing to you, you leaving everything behind, nothing belongs to you. What you can carry on your shoulders. We take blankets. Overcoats we take.”
Eventually, the A/C guys shows up. Turns out the master switch was turned off, and he quickly gets it back up and running. He also checks the furnace, the charge level, and some other maintenance things. The heater unit in the place is original, surely as old as the house.
Grandma tells me to go find Mishka.

Grandma's wisdom

"You got to have great willpower to do right things. Wrong things can be done any idiot."

A fresh day in Daytona

Considering the circumstances, the only thing I can think to do is write about what is happening. Normally, I’d just vent at the closest friend and consider it good enough, but I’m pretty much alone down here. The neighbor, Anne, whom my family strangely refers to as Anna, is a great relief, but you can’t vent too much at her. It just feels wrong. And of course there’s Mishka, who is quite comforting, but that comes later.
After a 14 hour drive from Maryland, finding the house is easy. You come down the A1A, turn right at the Bridge Club, and another right at the stop sign. Then you proceed down the street and stop at the first house with a brown yard. It’s not even brown grass- most of that is dead and gone. Weeds are abundant, and the flower beds by the house are certainly full of wildlife. Grandma has a unique idea of what a garden should look like. She likes stuff to grow. Lots of it. It’s not pretty, but I don’t mean that as a simple disparagement. Pretty isn’t a synonym for good, the way most people use it. Pretty means that something is organized, with sleek, attractive lines, carefully arranged. This garden isn’t pretty by that definition. It’s more like an explosion of life. Vibrant and overflowing. There’s a place for everything, and everything is fighting with its neighbors to fill up every bit of space.
The most important question whenever you come into this house is this: is Uncle Mars home? As I approach, his car is missing, so I know he’s not home. In fact, I’ve got a pretty good bet about where he actually is right now. But we’ll get to that later, as well.
I park on the street, and head up the walk. The front door is unlocked, and I open it up and head in. This is the front porch, a narrow corridor lined with windows. At the end is Dad’s chair, and grandma’s wheel chair. The rest of the space is filled with old books, and new books, and the recycling. No sign of grandma.
Opening the sliding glass door into the living room, two forces slap me across the face. The first is the smell. It’s not nearly as bad as last time we were here, but it’s still pretty bad. Mostly like urine, a little funk. The second hit is heat. It’s maybe 85 degrees outside, but inside, it is noticeably hotter. Perhaps 90.
I don’t see grandma, so I call for her. Several fans are running, including a new box fan with a sticker still on it. She’s not in the dining room or kitchen, so I head down the hallway. She’s in the bathroom, door open, sitting on the throne. She glances up at me, I say hello, and I back off. She’s unflappable.
Surveying the house, I can see that it desperately needs to be vacuumed. This clearly hasn’t been done since we were here last, two months previous. There’s a stack of clean dishes by the sink, which I know to be the hand of Anna. Everything else is about as expected; full of clutter. I open up the front and rear sliding glass doors to let some air through, and check out the thermostat. It seems dead. Switching the fan on and off, the air conditioner and the heat, all are ineffective.
I head into the kitchen, and check the state of things. The fridge is filthy, and clearly hasn’t been cleaned since we were here. A pot is sitting on the stove, with something in it. I check out the answering machine, and the note pad next to it. No messages currently on the machine, but the note pad is interesting.
Uncle’s script reads:
FOR TUESDAY
->SHAVE, SHOWER
-> Bank of America – NEED POA.
-- UPS make copies of Death Cert.
-- See Joe
--A.C.
From Store need: Paper towels
Page two reads:
Mystery caller (Called tues)
Coming Wed (?) – and then, a mangled version of my phone number.

Obviously, the AC has been off since at least Monday, and Uncle wasn’t in a state to understand my message when he took it down. I’m not surprised. I check out the rest of the house quickly, and I don’t think there’s a simple euphemism to describe the state of the house. Most homes would be described as “everything in its place”, or “all is in order”, but those aren’t true here. I think the current state is best described as “There are things, and they are in places”.

To be continued.