Recovery Underway

August 15, 2016 – Recovery Underway

Grandma Robin is in recovery mode after last week’s visit by Elisa and Sylvie.  It was absolutely wonderful having them here at the house from Tuesday until Friday.  However, it was also exhausting beyond belief.  I can’t remember when I’ve ever been so tired over an extended period of time.  As all of you with children and grandchildren know, there is no down time.  Each morning, with naïve optimism, I’d pour myself a cup of coffee and open the newspaper.  And of course, each morning, the coffee remained undrunk, and newspaper remained unread.  How does Elisa do this everyday? I asked myself.  How did I ever do this?  Even more mind-boggling, how did Elliott take on the duties of full-time fatherhood in his mid-seventies???  On the other hand, nothing makes me happier than seeing Sylvie’s bright and smiling face first thing in the morning.  

Elisa and Sylvie riding the rails in a new metro car!

My brilliant granddaughter accomplished what no one else has been able to do in years:  she got me to put on a bathing suit.  We were just taking her to the Mantua baby pool, mind you, but I still had to squeeze into a suit, dust off my rubber flip flops, and then try to remember how to wrap the darn sarong.  Sylvie enjoyed making big splashes in the water.  She was equally happy walking around the pool deck picking up dried leaves and acorns to pop in her mouth.  Fearless like all one year olds, she even she tried again and again to climb up onto the diving board.  We’d been working on going up and down stairs at home, so I guess she just wanted to practice her new skills. 

It delights me that Miss Sylvie has turned into a real gourmet.  She accompanied us to Duck Donuts (custom-designed donuts served piping hot), the Indian lunch buffet at Jaipur, and dinner at Artie’s in Fairfax.  Matt joined us at Artie’s, and we did a lot of reminiscing since the restaurant was Elliott’s default choice whenever we went out for a family meal.  As we were being seated, Elisa pointed across the room and said, “That’s where we sat when Dad told the waiter I was his wife.”  We also laughed about the times Elliott embarrassed us all by asking the waiter or waitress to guess his age.  On this occasion, I took on Elliott’s role of embarrasser-in-chief by interrogating the waiter about the various rosé wines on the menu.  It was worth the embarrassment because we ended up with a nicely balanced Chateau Puech Haut rosé from the Languedoc region.  As usual, the food at Artie’s was great.  Sylvie gave her approval of the grouper, the thin-cut fries, and two desserts – the berry shortcake and the flourless chocolate waffle with vanilla ice cream (a favorite of Elliott’s).  Alas, she left plentiful evidence on the floor of her enthusiastic approach to eating.  That’s why we always leave a big tip. 

3 generations at Jaipur

Organizing the containers

Relative calm returned after Elisa and Sylvie went back to Brooklyn at the end of the week.  The weekend turned out to be blissfully relaxed.  I watched a movie at home, did some laundry, finished another book, made a trip to the farmers’ market, and had coffee with a friend.  I even managed to eat a bowl of yogurt and fresh peaches with someone’s little fingers making their way into the dish.  There was only one problem, and it was a major one.  Late Friday afternoon, I found a large puddle of water beside the furnace – for the second time in a little over a week.  This is getting to be routine, I thought as I flipped off the air conditioning and got out the old towels.

Like much of the country, this area was (and still is) in the midst of an “excessive” heat wave.  My first reaction was disbelief, then horror bordering on panic.  Without air conditioning, how long would I survive?  How long would it take before I melted? I called the HVAC company right away but was told that they would only send someone out over the weekend in cases of medical emergencies.  So, given that there was nothing I could do except make the best of a trying situation, that’s exactly what I did.  Sure enough, the temperature in the house gradually rose to the mid-80s, but I found ways to adapt.  I carried a box fan around with me from room to room.  By Sunday afternoon, I knew that the best approach was to stay calm and move as little as possible.  The experience brought back memories of my childhood.  When I was growing up on Long Island in the 1950s and 60s, we didn’t have central AC in our house.  We took it for granted that we could cope with the summer heat by scaling back outdoor activity, sucking on popsicles, and hunkering down in the darkened house with shades and blinds drawn.  Honestly, my weekend wasn’t bad at all.  However, I’m glad the HVAC person is supposed to arrive momentarily.