Thursday, April 6, 2017
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Happy Hanukkah!
Sybil: What are you getting me for Hanukkah?
Barry: I don't know. What are you getting me?
Sybil: I gave you a good birthday gift. That's what I'm getting you.
Barry: I'll let you know.
Monday, September 5, 2016
Voice Mails
You ever read a book and have a clear picture in your head of what the characters look and sound like? Then the movie comes out and you are disappointed. I can't bear the thought of people getting the wrong idea of what Sybil looks and sounds like so I'm going to do my best to post some of the many, many, many voice mails I get in a week.
Enjoy, and sorry she doesn't sound like you may have envisioned.
Enjoy, and sorry she doesn't sound like you may have envisioned.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Just trying to help
Conversation this morning:
Sybil: I want to live somewhere that I'll see people and have activities.
Me: You could always go to prison. You'll see people and have plenty of planned out things to do.
Sybil: You're nasty!
I was being practical. It seemed like a better deal than a nursing home.
Sybil: I want to live somewhere that I'll see people and have activities.
Me: You could always go to prison. You'll see people and have plenty of planned out things to do.
Sybil: You're nasty!
I was being practical. It seemed like a better deal than a nursing home.
Friday, July 8, 2016
Pizza Squirrel
Over July 4th I took my daughter on our annual trip to visit Sybil in
New Jersey. What's the point of paying for her therapy if she has
nothing to talk about. With this trip, there has been a huge influx of
material for the blog. Much like cleaning out my mother's house when
she kicks it, I don't know where to start.
Now that I'm thinking about trash we might as well start with the Pizza Squirrel.
Growing up, we had a very eclectic set of trash cans at Sybil's. At any given time there was a combination of the following:
Before the trip, Sybil informed me that some animals
ate through the mismatched lid on her Rubbermaid can and were spreading
trash everywhere. To combat these brazen thieves Sybil spent $24 on a
new can and matching lid.
From the second I got to Sybil's, I was told over and over and over again to make sure the new can was shut tight so no animal would get in. I complied but first yelled, "Stop nagging me."
One day I went out and my phone was ringing off the hook. To no surprise it was Sybil. When I answered she immediately started screaming at me that I left the can open and animals ate through the lid. My question to her was, if I left the can open why would they need to eat through the lid? To that she responded with silence.
As I pulled up to her house I saw a squirrel running through her yard with a slice of pizza in it's tiny hands. I'm just going to assume he got it from the trash can, but then again it's Jersey so that slice could have come from anywhere.
Today I called Sybil and she said she was taking the trash out when a squirrel lunged for her. She pressed her Life Alert but they never responded! Don't you talk into it when you press the button?
"Help, help, I'm being attacked by squirrels and my sons aren't nice!"
Next Up: Elder Abuse
Now that I'm thinking about trash we might as well start with the Pizza Squirrel.
Growing up, we had a very eclectic set of trash cans at Sybil's. At any given time there was a combination of the following:
- Metal Trash cans - taken from her house in the Bronx in 1972. The best way to describe them is the can Oscar the Grouch lives in.
- Lawn Can - One of those huge barrels for grass. Purchased in 1992. Recently stolen. Sybil will not let this go. I tried to explain that she got her money's worth.
- One Rubbermaid trash can with a mismatched lid.
- One barrel that fell off a truck, spilling chemicals everywhere. Sybil promptly grabbed it and now uses it for recyclables. Most likely radioactive.
From the second I got to Sybil's, I was told over and over and over again to make sure the new can was shut tight so no animal would get in. I complied but first yelled, "Stop nagging me."
One day I went out and my phone was ringing off the hook. To no surprise it was Sybil. When I answered she immediately started screaming at me that I left the can open and animals ate through the lid. My question to her was, if I left the can open why would they need to eat through the lid? To that she responded with silence.
As I pulled up to her house I saw a squirrel running through her yard with a slice of pizza in it's tiny hands. I'm just going to assume he got it from the trash can, but then again it's Jersey so that slice could have come from anywhere.
Today I called Sybil and she said she was taking the trash out when a squirrel lunged for her. She pressed her Life Alert but they never responded! Don't you talk into it when you press the button?
"Help, help, I'm being attacked by squirrels and my sons aren't nice!"
Next Up: Elder Abuse
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
To protect and SERVE
I just wanted to take a moment to show my respect for the boys in blue. Every day you go out there and put your lives on the line to help others. All people do is focus on the bad. What about the good?
They need and deserve all the good press they can get. That's why I wanted to send a special shout out to the police of Hillsdale, New Jersey. On Sunday they saved my mother's life. At approximately 11:45am, Sybil accidentally sat on the TV remote, causing the picture to go black. Knowing that she would surely die if she had to wait for the cable company to come out, (first available appointment was Tuesday) she did what any sane person would do and called the police.
Twenty minutes later, a very nice officer pressed the input button three times and Sybil was back to watching her stocks float across the bottom of the screen.
For this, I thank you.
They need and deserve all the good press they can get. That's why I wanted to send a special shout out to the police of Hillsdale, New Jersey. On Sunday they saved my mother's life. At approximately 11:45am, Sybil accidentally sat on the TV remote, causing the picture to go black. Knowing that she would surely die if she had to wait for the cable company to come out, (first available appointment was Tuesday) she did what any sane person would do and called the police.
Twenty minutes later, a very nice officer pressed the input button three times and Sybil was back to watching her stocks float across the bottom of the screen.
For this, I thank you.
Monday, May 16, 2016
98.6
Sometimes I marvel at how far we have come in the last thirty years, black people in country clubs, the white house, electric cars, Amazon Fresh! It can all be summed up in the fact that I am writing this post on my phone while taking a shit. My daughter doesn't know how good she has it. What is she going to do, grow up and complain about how when she was little, her Ipad was a gen 3 and her dad was too lazy to hang her flat screen on the wall so it sat on her dresser. When I was little the dresser was the TV! She doesn't know the struggle.
I think about just how good she has it anytime she feels sick. If she appears to have a fever, I pull out a device, stick it in her ear for 10 seconds, and her temp appears on an LCD screen. No complaints, just exact numbers in a nonivasive way.
Now let me tell you how it went when I was little:
Picture me having the chills, due to Sybil not cooking a roast properly, or because my father blew smoke rings directly into my lungs. Sybil proceeds to pull an oral thermometer from the bottom of her pocket book that inexplicably has no case. She sticks it under my tongue for three seconds, notices I'm not holding it in place and screams that she needs a more accurate reading that she can only get rectally. My pupils dilate and I dart off to hide in the closet. Meanwhile Sybil goes to the hall bathroom, where she dips a rectal thermometer, that she also had loose in her purse, into a huge tub of A&D ointment that for some reason has no lid, but plenty of lint. She then proceeds to rip me out of the closet, throw me on the bed and treat me like Abner Louima, only this time there is no payoff for the victim. Five minutes later, the thermometer would be removed with the same care as it was inserted. After a quick wipe of the thermometer, it would be tossed back in the pocket book. As I was left there, pants down, ointment all over my cheeks, Sybil would mutter my temperature was 98.6.
No cleanup, no sorry, no day off from school due to a fever!!
The struggle was real indeed.
I think about just how good she has it anytime she feels sick. If she appears to have a fever, I pull out a device, stick it in her ear for 10 seconds, and her temp appears on an LCD screen. No complaints, just exact numbers in a nonivasive way.
Now let me tell you how it went when I was little:
Picture me having the chills, due to Sybil not cooking a roast properly, or because my father blew smoke rings directly into my lungs. Sybil proceeds to pull an oral thermometer from the bottom of her pocket book that inexplicably has no case. She sticks it under my tongue for three seconds, notices I'm not holding it in place and screams that she needs a more accurate reading that she can only get rectally. My pupils dilate and I dart off to hide in the closet. Meanwhile Sybil goes to the hall bathroom, where she dips a rectal thermometer, that she also had loose in her purse, into a huge tub of A&D ointment that for some reason has no lid, but plenty of lint. She then proceeds to rip me out of the closet, throw me on the bed and treat me like Abner Louima, only this time there is no payoff for the victim. Five minutes later, the thermometer would be removed with the same care as it was inserted. After a quick wipe of the thermometer, it would be tossed back in the pocket book. As I was left there, pants down, ointment all over my cheeks, Sybil would mutter my temperature was 98.6.
No cleanup, no sorry, no day off from school due to a fever!!
The struggle was real indeed.
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