Yes. I moved mountains. And not metaphorically either.
I took my mom down to visit where we will me living a couple of months from now — in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. And I gathered up pieces of the mountains that are on that property — rocks. Pretty big rocks. I loaded a hundred pounds or so of them into my trunk to take to my daughter’s next week for her rock garden. They don’t have any rocks in her back yard. There are plenty in the woods behind their house, but there’s also plenty of poison ivy. My poor son-in-law is still recovering from a massive reaction to it.
It’s amazing how much better my mother can see now with one cataract removed. All the way down the NY State Thruway, she rorschached the masses of clouds that moved along with us. She commented on all of the various shades of green that lined our long ride. As much as I hate having to arrange my life around giving her the required eye drops several times a day for a month after cataract surgery, I’m going to take her to get the other eye done. Apparently, she will have 20/20 vision in that eye when she has the cataract removed and the little lense implanted. Also, apparently, she had been legally blind in the eye that she just had done. I didn’t know it was that bad.
She always insisted that she could see just fine.
Now if only I could get her to submit to hearing aids. Heh. It would be easier to move the actual mountains.