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Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Dementia-ville is a perkier place this week. The appetite is back so the babbling is full blast. On the one side is a patient who had fully embraced her return to No and Shit (or perhaps it’s reversed, as I can’t remember where she started). On the other hand, we have an aide who thinks my dogs’ names are “Hello, come here” and “Hello, you come” (or perhaps it’s reversed, as I can’t remember which one she thinks is which). There’s also some soap opera thingy blasting patois from the cell phone while the game show channel blasts native nonsense (or perhaps it’s reversed, as I just don’t give a rat’s ass anymore).

~~ Ever have a dream you think is just a random dream and then find out the next day that at least a part of it is true? I did, and it certainly wasn’t the one where I dream about winning the lottery and actually do.  The night vision involved a family member and the next day’s text set up the same scenario. Damn. The lottery one would have been so much better.

~~ Last weekend I did some phone calling for a legislator I admire. It’s been years since I phone banked in a calling center, as in the past 10 years or so all the candidates I worked for have put the calling and script online so you call in solitude if you desire. Instead, this was an old-school boiler room with a half-dozen other people calling for the candidate (plus two women loudly discussing the difference between when one son joined the police force and when the other did). Of the 50 or so calls I made, many didn’t pick up, some were polite and even enthusiastic, and one was bizarre.
I asked for [man’s name] and the woman who answered wondered why I was calling him. I gave my name, volunteer status, and the name of the legislator I hoped [man’s name] would support. “OK, sure, hang on,” she says, and a few moments later, a man speaks. “GO TO HELL!” he says and hangs up. He didn’t even give me enough time to wish him a very pleasant rest of his rude-ass afternoon.

~~ Did you see where Lincoln in the Bardo won the Mann Booker Award? I am so glad it won, as reading it was truly an electrifying privilege. I was finishing up Fannie Flagg’s The Whole Town is Talking when I heard the news about George Saunders winning the award for his tale of a (Buddhist) nether state of existence. I thought I was reading one of the light, frothy, and delightful stories Flagg is so good at telling, and then, BAM! I had an experience similar to the ending of Bardo. I truly recommend both books — you might read them in the order I did, but since they are so different (Saunders and I didn’t mesh for chapters while Flagg is like a gentle hug from page one) read them whenever you like.

~~ I’m truly interested in getting an answer to this question: How could Donald tRump have committed adultery while married to wives number one and two if he is only a toddler?


Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend.
J!-E!-T!-S! JETS! JETS! JETS!
LET’S GO RANGERS!
GO, NY KNICKS, GO!






 

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