Thursday, June 11

Patience

I've found several potential tables on Craigslist that fit my specifications: Pedestal, Solid Wood, Round but With a Leaf, Not a Gagillion Dollars. Of course, one that was perfect (i.e. really inexpensive and being sold right in town) was already gone. So I walked around the Habitat For Humanity Restore in a huff, then self-medicated with a Chick-Fil-A Limited Time Peach Milkshake (size: small).

It's been approximately 36 hours since I gained an excuse to get a new table and chairs to replace our nice-but-from-Wal-Mart-five-years-ago solid-wood dinette. It really has served us well, and doesn't look like we had to assemble it ourselves (and that had NOTHING to do with the leg splitting in half and falling off, so don't even start with that). As I was saying, it's been approximately 36 hours, and I'm already antsy to have found a replacement, and I get annoyed when The Perfect One is already sold. Even though I know I'll find another Perfect One soon.

* * *

Yesterday was my dad's 51st birthday. Dad has one brother, Uncle Randy, who is 52. Uncle Randy was born with severe cerebral palsy, and has always lived at home with my grandparents (who I call Paca and Papa).

Paca and Papa called last night to wish Dad a happy birthday and chat for a while—and they had some news. My elderly, retired engineer grandfather recently got a job. He gets $8 an hour for 30 hours a week. No, he didn't go to Wal-Mart to be a greeter because they need the extra money. No, he didn't apply to bag groceries at the store. And he didn't start selling his handmade jewelry boxes at craft fairs.

Papa is getting paid $8 an hour for 30 hours a week to be Uncle Randy's caretaker. This program has been available through a local company for 15 years, and they only just found out about it. He took some training courses—training him how to do something he's been doing for 52 years—who now "employ" him to make his son's Friday nachos, his afternoon iced teas, to drive him to the Y for swimming, to help him shave with his electric razor, to set out his vitamins and medications every morning.

According to my calculations, he's owed $187,200 in back pay. I don't think he'll be asking for it.

5 comments:

Sal said...

Holy cats. What local company? As someone who grew up with a disabled sibling, I'm desperately curious to know more about an organization that pays family members to care for each other ...

Meadowlark said...

Um, I sadly own an 18 year old, white, tile top table from the Exchange (military store). Every time I think about replacing it, I say "oh sh*t, these tables are expensive. I guess I don't hate that dam* thing THAT much" and end up with no new table.

I need someone to break the legs of that thing. And I might STILL hesitate. :)

Tina said...

Better late than never, I suppose.

And take heart - you'll find your table soon enough. Que music - "The Waaiiiiiting is the hardest part!" Oh, Tom Petty. How we love thee.

Maggie May said...

That is the table we have- it's white, although it doesn't have a center piece. I found it on Craigslist! Good luck.

Jen said...

MMm, how was the peach milkshake? I saw the sign yesterday at the mall but resisted...you'll find your table, give it time - I'm trolling craig's list looking for a desk for my daughter with no luck yet. Feels like a waste of time, but I KNOW people find treasures that way!

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