is it hoarding if

boy, Jimmy, I can see and smell the entire scene! I can't even imagine how your new sister-in-law felt when that happened....it must have shaped her relationship with her mother-in-law for all of her life, even if all was forgiven and life moved on.

Jimmy, I laughed myself silly just now reading about the turkey on your mom's brand new carpet.  One thing I would NEVER do at someone's house is volunteer to take the turkey out of the oven!  Your SIL must've been out of her mind!  Since I'm usually cooking a big turkey (whether or not we have guests), Brian usually takes the turkey out for me to baste whenever I need to.  It gets heavy especially if you have say, a big All-Clad pan and rack in addition to the turkey, which I do.  

I remember when people were putting carpet in the kitchen (and the bathroom) and never understood that for a second.  You're kind of just asking for trouble, you know?

After your comment about reading all these posts and laughing, I went back and re-read the entire thread.  I, too, laughed my butt off, even at some of my own postings.  Bugster's posts about her family and in-laws were really funny, too.  You know, when you're younger and your family members are drunks or act like idiots or nutcases, you rarely tell anyone.  Once you got into your 20s, you realized that you weren't alone and that EVERYONE had wacko family members, too, or ones who were perpetually drunk, and you tended to tell the stories about the craziness.  I am often amazed when families get together and they don't have booze or wine -- I will tell you right now that I would never even THINK of getting together with my family members WITHOUT booze!  

One of the best Christmas dinners at my house was the one after Katrina.  As I'm sure you know, 80% of the houses in New Orleans flooded and most had tons of wind damage as well.  NOT OURS!!!!  Our house is wood on the front and the sides and back are clad in vinyl siding (thank God, as we only have to paint the front and the trim around the rest of the house).  We had some siding that came off on one side and some roof tiles that came off (no roof leaks though) and a shutter upstairs that broke apart during the storm.  And the steps up to our front door, which are clad in old tiles, had some wind damage when the house must've moved, so we had to have those tiles removed and fixed as well.  Even though our house was relatively fine, we still had to head out of town when things got dicey and the radio was saying it might be SIX MONTHS until the power got turned back on.  Luckily, Brian's company's home office was in Houston so like most of the employees, we ended up in a hotel there for 7 weeks.  We were very blessed, as Brian's company paid for everyone's hotel.  Seven weeks at $150 a night really adds up quickly -- besides that, you still had to pay your mortgage, too!  Several employees remained in New Orleans to work the river (Brian's in shipping).  The majority stayed on cruise ships that headed here after the storm so cargo could get moving on the river.  His company even paid the roundtrip cab fare for those on the cruise ship to get to work in the suburbs every day -- probably about $60 a day per person in cab fare (people had yet to replace their cars).  

At any rate, my sister (who had Power of Attorney for my mom -- my mother must've been OUT OF HER MIND to do that but hey, she did it) put her in an assisted living nursing home in Baton Rouge, about 90 minutes outside of New Orleans.  (She refused to move her to a New Orleans nursing home afterwards so my poor mom didn't get many visitors that far away.)  We brought her home to N.O. for Christmas and invited my sister and her husband, Ed, and his mother, who was still in her home in N.O. after the storm, for Christmas.  My best friend Linda came with her daughter, who was still in high school then, and was home from the art school in CA that took in about 10 students from our revered art school in New Orleans after the storm.  I also invited someone my sister had met while rescuing animals after the storm, as she'd lost her entire house (she's STILL not back in her house as she ran out of money while repairing it).  She wouldn't agree to come, saying she just planned on sitting in her nasty flooded house all day (people were sooo depressed with good reason, of course).  So I called and left her a voicemail asking her to please come, that we'd love to have her, that everyone coming was a kook, and that we weren't dressing up or anything (people lost all their clothing, too).  She said she cried when she got my voicemail and she agreed to come.  So we had a group of 8.  

I was doing paralegal work out of my house when the storm hit and, of course, that work dried up immediately so I was out of work when we came home.  I had plenty of time to clean up (all the stuff we brought in for the storm was still inside when we came home, including all my plants which were now dead as doorknobs with dead leaves and dirt all over the place) and cook.  I polished the copper chargers, covered small pumpkins and different shaped squash with gold, silver and copper glitter for a centerpiece (something I'd seen on Martha Stewart while "exciled" in the Houston hotel -- I had nothing to do all day but do laundry, work out in the workout room or watch TV) and really set a gorgeous table.  This may not seem like much to you but the city was so devastated that all you saw was destruction, including a legion of dead refrigerators waiting for pickup on the curb.  These fridges became "canvases" for all types of messages, the majority of which were hilarious.  The whole city looked "black and white" instead of in color.  Piles of debris all over the place, with some neighborhoods having tug boats on front lawns, where they'd ended up in the flood.  So anything pretty or fancy seemed just wonderful.  Every day you read about another suicide or read a sad story about people still looking for their loved ones, some of whom were dead, had drowned, were jailed and moved to God knows where, as the jail flooded as well or had been flown all over the place without a clue as to where they would land until the plan landed.  Can you imagine?!

I made a big prime rib dinner with that Christmas Sauce I make and other goodies.  Everyone was in a good mood (the first in a long time) and we had tons of appetizers (my favorite things, of course), wine and cocktails prior to sitting down for dinner.  After dinner, Linda had brought some DVD with a "guess which movie this was" game, so everyone moved into the living room to play the game.  Brian and I were cleaning up and the laughter and screams coming from the living room was wonderful.  We kept smiling at each other and were hugging and kissing in the kitchen while we cleaned up, as it was the first time in a long time that we'd heard that kind of laughter in New Orleans.  As they played that movie game, I served cheesecake with fresh raspberry sauce and coffee to everyone in the living room, with Baileys if you wanted it.  Even though my Mom was declining terribly in that assisted living home (she needed a full service nursing home), she wasn't too "off the beam" that day and my sister's MIL (just about the same age, in their 80s) paid her a lot of attention so she was having a good time, too.  All was good!  

Even my sister behaved, but then she always acts a lot better when people who aren't family are around (no lie).  As you may have guessed, my sister doesn't throw around compliments very often.  Later that week, she called to tell me how much fun they had.  She also told me that on the drive to bring her MIL home, that her MIL said, "I didn't know Michelle was such a wonderful cook."  My sister said she replied, "You KNOW I told you Michelle loved to cook."  Mrs. MIL's reply? "Well, lots of people love to cook but that doesn't mean they're good at it."  I couldn't (and still can't) remember when my sister had last passed on a compliment to me, so that was shocking too.  

I guess it was the aftermath of such a tragedy that made everything seem so wonderful that day -- that and everyone feeling so blessed and well fed!

That statement you made is almost identical to the one I said to a snotty doctor I had an appointment with. I do not like doctors. I have 5 in my family and they are all arrogant bastages. Well this doctor I saw was another jerk. He made me mad. I told him "Hey! Get off your high horse! Just because you managed to get through medical school doesn't mean you are any good at what you do." That was the last I saw of him. LOL. It felt so good to say what I actually felt. I never do that. I am such a wimp.

By the way, it took years before I could tell anybody about my family. There are still some things I can't talk about but maybe some day...

Bugster2 wrote:That statement you made is almost identical to the one I said to a snotty doctor I had an appointment with. I do not like doctors. I have 5 in my family and they are all arrogant bastages. Well this doctor I saw was another jerk. He made me mad. I told him "Hey! Get off your high horse! Just because you managed to get through medical school doesn't mean you are any good at what you do." That was the last I saw of him. LOL. It felt so good to say what I actually felt. I never do that. I am such a wimp.

The very last thing I would think of you, Bug, is that you're a wimp. Quite the opposite, in fact. Laughed at your doctor story, as I once told Brian's urologist (Brian had prostate cancer) to "go "F" himself" right in the middle of an appointment and walked out of the little exam room. Brian's cancer had returned and he now needed radiation, which is what he was telling us. I simply had asked if he recommended we get a second opinion and what would happen if the radiation didn't succeed. His reply? He said, while rolling his eyes, "Oh, for God's sake, even if it kills him, it'll take three years for him to die!" [Brian was 54 at the time.)I could feel my rage (you know when you hear your own blood pressure in your ears?) and I burst into tears and said, "Well, you're about Brian's age [52], Doc. How do you feel about f-ing dying in three years? Go "F" yourself," and walked out.

I was sobbing by then so I stopped short of going back into the front office, as I could see it was filled with people and didn't want to upset those who were probably worried already. The doctor's staff consoled me and told me what a jerk he could be. About six months later, the doctor told my husband to tell me he was sorry he upset me. I was stunned at that. I saw him several times after that as Brian had to have a semi-annual and then an annual cystoscopy for years; that doctor would do it and then come out into the waiting area and tell me the results and leave. Of course, he never apologized to me directly. He and his wife (who was a nurse/attorney/partner at the firm I worked for) left N.O. after Katrina and did not return. Though he was a very good doctor and I'm glad Brian went to him, it's really tough on patients when doctors have absolutely no bedside manner nor any empathy for what their patients and their families are going through.

Bugster2 wrote:By the way, it took years before I could tell anybody about my family. There are still some things I can't talk about but maybe some day...

I know the feeling, Bug, but it always feels better after you share it with someone, especially when that person comes from a wacko family, too! Invariably, they tell you something about their family that curls your hair as well.

Crybaby wrote:

Bugster2 wrote:That statement you made is almost identical to the one I said to a snotty doctor I had an appointment with. I do not like doctors. I have 5 in my family and they are all arrogant bastages. Well this doctor I saw was another jerk. He made me mad. I told him "Hey! Get off your high horse! Just because you managed to get through medical school doesn't mean you are any good at what you do." That was the last I saw of him. LOL. It felt so good to say what I actually felt. I never do that. I am such a wimp.

The very last thing I would think of you, Bug, is that you're a wimp.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Laughed at your doctor story, as I once told Brian's urologist (Brian had prostate cancer) to "go "F" himself" right in the middle of an appointment and walked out of the little exam room.  Brian's cancer had returned and he now needed radiation, which is what he was telling us.  I simply had asked if he recommended we get a second opinion and what would happen if the radiation didn't succeed.  His reply?  He said, while rolling his eyes, "Oh, for God's sake, even if it kills him, it'll take three years for him to die!"  [Brian was 54 at the time.)I could feel my rage (you know when you hear your own blood pressure in your ears?) and I burst into tears and said, "Well, you're about Brian's age [52], Doc.  How do you feel about f-ing dying in three years?  Go "F" yourself," and walked out.  

I was sobbing by then so I stopped short of going back into the front office, as I could see it was filled with people and didn't want to upset those who were probably worried already.  The doctor's staff consoled me and told me what a jerk he could be.  About six months later, the doctor told my husband to tell me he was sorry he upset me.  I was stunned at that.  I saw him several times after that as Brian had to have a semi-annual and then an annual cystoscopy for years; that doctor would do it and then come out into the waiting area and tell me the results and leave.  Of course, he never apologized to me directly.  He and his wife (who was a nurse/attorney/partner at the firm I worked for) left N.O. after Katrina and did not return.  Though he was a very good doctor and I'm glad Brian went to him, it's really tough on patients when doctors have absolutely no bedside manner nor any empathy for what their patients and their families are going through.  

Bugster2 wrote:By the way, it took years before I could tell anybody about my family. There are still some things I can't talk about but maybe some day...

I know the feeling, Bug, but it always feels better after you share it with someone, especially when that person comes from a wacko family, too!  Invariably, they tell you something about their family that curls your hair as well.  

I could never expect what my poor mom did when she was in the hospital, and waiting to get discharged. Dad died a year earlier, and Mom was battling esophageal cancer.

She developed a bad cold, and we had to take her to the hospital They admitted her, and she was there like 5 days to get her lungs cleared up.

It was a Sunday, and the Dr. released her at 11:00 AM. They told her to get dressed, and Tina helped her get ready. Mom was glad to get out of that noisy inconsiderate place, and it was the staff that was so noisy.

Now it is 2:30 PM, and no one to sign her off or get her a ride to the exit area.
She was stewing inside form just waiting.

A nun came by giving communion, and Mom is and was a devout Catholic.
The nun said a prayer, and Mom was just ready to receive the host (wafer) and she opened her mouth: and with that, the Nun nastily said,.......
"Stick your tongue out, don't you know how to take communion??"

Well... Mom Blew up at her, and said," I would, but I DONT HAVE NO XXXXen
TONGUE. .... Get The Heck out of this room!"

She was crying and so upset...she walked out and told the staff if they didn't release her in 2 minutes, she was going to walk out!

They finally released her at 4:30 PM

My God! They removed her tongue? Somebody, just take off my clothes and throw me in the river.

Bugster2 wrote:My God! They removed her tongue? Somebody, just take off my clothes and throw me in the river.

 
Yeah bugs. It was pitiful.
 
It all started with her biting her tongue in the back side from a brand new pair of ill- fitted dentures.
She kept going back to the dentist, and all he kept doing was filing them.
Still, she kept biting.
 
She had problems with her tongue later being sore.
She went to a specialist and he did a biopsy .
 
Matastic cancer of the tongue!
Operation #1 she had 1/4 of the tongue removed.
A 1/2 year later....on check up, the cancer was full blown in the tongue, and spread to the esophagus .
Operation #2 she had the tongue removed except for a piece the size of her little finger.
All her food had to be cut fine.
She stood up to it though!
Then it became that the esophagus became cancerous, and she remained on a feeding tube for the last 7 months of her life.
 
She smoked up until 3 weeks of her death, and was joking and laughing up until the last week.
 
My cousin Americo the undertaker did the embalming, and I asked him to do a
Xtra check..... He said," Her lungs were as pink and pure as a baby's even after smoking 3 packs of cigarettes A DAY for several years.
 
He told me she was in good health, and the heart was strong. Her death was attributed to the tongue injury caused by the dentures. That then caused the cancer, which may have been from the tobacco.

Jeez!

Your poor Mom, Jimmy! It's bad enough to be ill-treated by hospital staff but to tack flak from a nun would be more than I could bare. Good for your Mom for telling that woman off. I'm so sorry she had to suffer for so long but she sure sounded like a trooper!

I agree totally, Jimmy. They do the same thing (with regard to the fasting) with everyone. What they forget is lots of people, like my husband, have to load up with pills every morning. So when you don't let them eat until the afternoon in a lot of cases, it really screws up their stomachs.

That kind of stuff drives me crazy. After all, we are hiring them to do a service for us, so technically they are our employee, so they should be on time. If an employee of Target showed up an hour late with the feeble excuse of "sorry" they would be shown the door.
I once got so mad at how long I had to wait that informed the receptionist that if I didn't see the doctor in 5 minutes, I was going to start charging him for my time. She looked at me and said "The doctor will see you soon". I think I will hand them a bill the next time this happens.

Bugster2 wrote:That kind of stuff drives me crazy. After all, we are hiring them to do a service for us, so technically they are our employee, so they should be on time. If an employee of Target showed up an hour late with the feeble excuse of "sorry" they would be shown the door.
I once got so mad at how long I had to wait that informed the receptionist that if I didn't see the doctor in 5 minutes, I was going to start charging him for my time. She looked at me and said "The doctor will see you soon". I think I will hand them a bill the next time this happens.

I understand if they're not able to see you promptly, as I don't know what type of patient they've encountered earlier and how much time they've had to spend (but it's got to be the type of doctor who spends extra time with you if you need it). But we do remind them that we need the first appointment of the day if it's something he has to fast for.