LitaWrites (real_lawyer) wrote,

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Dementia-ville has been quite the active spot. There was the whooping, the hollering, the screeching, the yelping, the squawking, the epithets, the commands to “Get out,” and the shouting that sounded just like the Little League taunt of Swing, batter, batter!

~~ Then there were the countless repetitions of Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, which the aide plays to calm the patient who emerges from sleep quite the irritable soul.
You know the first movement and may even love the song. But try listening to it for almost 400 days straight, punctuated by assorted Nooooooooooooooos and Shiiiiiiiiiiits and Goooooooooo awaaaaaaaaaaaaays, and then tell me about the state of your sanity. I took a leap off the stability roof last week after an especially raunchy singalong — the non-stop jangling in my head from the resulting tumble was the best music I’ve heard in quite a while.

~~Sometime the aide watches TV or chats with a friend in the phone before the patient awakens. I’m not sure which was happening the other day, but it sounded exactly like a soap opera performed in Creole. Followed by Mozart, of course.

~~ The aide scorched some rice. Burn happens, so no big deal. Except two days after she leaves for parts unknown, the acrid air remains.

~~ The man checking out my purchase sighed quite deeply. “Long day?” I politely inquire. “I’ll say. All the horses I bet on today lost.” Seriously, I had zero clue how to respond to that, so I murmured, “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t.

~~ After a yoga class in which the key pose was an arm balance, I am chatting with two women about how close we came to achieving the pose. I say that I could tuck my shoulders under my legs but that day "my butt wouldn't soar."
A person from the class I didn’t know was walking by at that moment. She reached back, patted me kindly, and said reassuringly "Once you do yoga for a while you won't get so sore."

~~ The woman had blue-tipped hair, and I admired it so. Decades ago, I would have loved to sport that style. The voice of sensibility tells me that when wrinkles enter, funky hair must depart. But why?

~~ I cannot count the number of times conservative acquaintances/relatives would defend stop and frisk and other forms of profiling or surveillance by saying, “If you haven’t don’t anything wrong you should have nothing to fear.” Boy, are they singing a different tune now about PUS and Russia. I hear, “There’s no need for a special prosecutor because the PUS has given his word.” Or this stunner: “There’s no evidence to prove an investigation is needed.” Yes, um hum. Righty-o.

~~ The Russians have their own country. I want my country back.

~~ Oh, yes, mothers. As in, Happy Mother’s Day! I had the world’s best mother for me, and I hope you had the same for yourself. If you didn’t, take a look around, as I am sure there’s a woman willing to encourage you, or guide you, or just offer you a hug when you need it most. And I bet that woman would find it gratifying just to hear you say “Thank you,” “I love you,” or “You made a difference.”

Dasvidaniya. Have a good weekend.
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