LitaWrites (real_lawyer) wrote,

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Dementia-ville was filled with adventures this week. The potty-mouthed patient with the lungs and diaphragm of someone half her age and twice her size has robustly screamed at real and imaginary people all week. At least, I think “Gonzo, Gonzo, Gonzohohoh!” is an imaginary person, as is “Jackeeee, Jackeeee, Jackeeeee!”All I know is that if I were named Jackee, I’d be gonzo for sure.

~~ The aide that arrived yesterday was also with us two weeks ago. She spent a great deal of time on the phone then and she started up the same conversation when she returned. Or perhaps it’s conceivable that she says, “Oh, no, no, no, listen to me, listen to me, listen to me….” to everyone.

~~ The aromas of the week ranged from straight-out poop to roughly what makes you gag when the person on the plane next to you removes his shoes and socks. With just a soupçon of clove. Because nothing tamps down stink like clove, correct?

~~ On the opposite end of the scent spectrum is one of my favorites: basil. A tiny whiff makes me so happy! Twice in the past week, a friend has shown up in yoga with gorgeous tomatoes and heavenly perfumed basil in a bag just for me. I sprinkled on some salt, laid the tomatoes and basil across fresh olive bread, and bit right into summer. Pure, unadulterated, summer.

~~ I see someone I haven’t connected with in a year. We catch up a bit and then she blurts out, “Do you know how much I hate my job?” Nope, do tell. “There are days I want to pull a fork out of my purse and… well, you know.” I smiled and said she had my sympathy, but I had to run. What do you think should consume my thoughts — why she has a fork in her purse or what she could do with it?

~~ I’m making a follow-up visit with the eye doctor. “What time is good for you next Thursday?” “Anytime between 2:00 and 3:30 pm,” I reply. “I can’t do that, but I can do 2:40,” she says. The people nearby me burst out laughing (as do I), and the receptionist looks very annoyed. “Fine, I’ll take that instead,” I concede.

~~ For a solid 10 minutes I listened to a woman gripe about her upcoming two-week vacation in Iceland. It will be wet, it will be cold, she needs a parka, she needs waterproof pants, she needs long johns, she doesn’t know why she agreed to this, her roomie will be mad if she cancels, and she doesn’t even like schnapps. It took every ounce of serenity I could muster to not turn around and tell her to stick it where the sun don’t shine. But I’m guessing that would be Iceland anyway.

~~ Overheard: “Did you cut your hair?” “Nah, I just washed it for the first time in weeks.”

~~ I forgot to tell you last week that the August issue of Boating Times is out!

~~ I had a POS object to persons of color being on our cover. Then he objected again on Facebook to a story showing a black doctor. He called the magazine a “liberal rag” and told us to “represent boaters.” Aside from his sheer bigotry and stupidity, his feeling empowered to object in such a public manner and his attempt to bully me left me chilled.
Is it any wonder I went off on a tRump voter who downplayed this? I told her the tale and she called it “a step away from political correctness.” I said it was prejudice, pure and simple, and she asserted that I was overreacting. So yeah, racists justify their superiority on social media and in real life.

~~ When the yoga teacher starts out class by asking us all to “sit in gratitude that we’re not in Guam,” you know the political has become the absurd and that the absurd can get us frickin’ killed.

Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend. (Yes, I’m still ignoring the Jets. I’m just not ready.)
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