LitaWrites (real_lawyer) wrote,

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ I have it from a very intelligent and usually reliable source that my writing is too subtle. That is not something I have been told before — I frequently hear that I write as I speak, and lord knows I’m far from understated. However, this reader was unaware of the proximity of Dementia-ville to my life and my personal space. So, for those who share her slant and think I write of a remote land where an incontinent, immobile patient with dementia (related to me by marriage) resides with a merry-go-round of aides, let me show how close I am to this stinky, loud metropolis: MeDementia-ville.

~~ We got a new dog (more on that in a bit), so while she learns her name and the come command, I frequently venture out into my backyard to call her in. As it’s freaking freezing around here, I tossed a winter coat over the bannister of our back stairs. Those stairs are the way the aide comes down from her accommodations (our guest room) to reach the patient. The current aide can’t seem to maneuver in the morning without knocking my coat off the turnout and into the dog’s water bowl below. The stairs aren’t narrow and there’s a landing before the bottom, but for five days straight, she’s knocked my coat off and sent it swimming. Where it stays until I find it. That’s right — she doesn’t pick it up.

~~ A friend asked me about the current smell that’s making me gag (yes, that is a topic of conversation in the world adjacent to Dementia-ville). I described it as the stench from a stretch of beach after the tide’s gone out and the stranded sea creatures have dried up and died in the midday sun. However, I think I undersold it to her. It’s actually more as if a toxic chemical plant’s effluent killed an entire marine habitat and whale corpses are decomposing all around.

~~ Back to the dog. As shared last week, a friend arranged for us to welcome a new pup. Long ago, I vowed to my kids that if we ever got a new dog, I’d name him or her after the football coach with the great name, Lovie Smith.     So we now have a little pipsqueak of a pooch, and she’s such a sweetheart.
She’s smart, she’s compatible with her older brothers, and she never, ever stops leaping, scrambling, climbing, soaring, scooching, jumping, and springing about. Her foster mom (my friend) told me “she’s a spider monkey,” and that’s a perfect description. Lovie’s discovered she adores coconut, cheddar cheese, laps, and scrambled eggs, and hates the rain, being ignored, and the sound of the current aide’s voice. Me, too, Lovie. That voice makes me crazy.

~~ Last week’s Women’s March in NYC was powerful and energizing.
Hundreds of thousands of people came together to demonstrate what democracy looks like, and I was glad to be there. I had a semi-brush with celebrity — a knit hat that I gave away in Penn Station was worn by a woman marching with Christine Baranski, and many, many brushes with woke Americans (and at least two guys from Brussels).
I proclaimed how proud I was of my daughter as fellow marchers praised her hat, I hugged, high-fived, and bonded with strangers, I exchanged exasperated snippets about current events with passersby, and spent time with a family member and a couple of sister resistors I value. But mostly I was galvanized by the sheer will and determination of a nation of activists that will not back down nor go backwards.

Check out my NY minute here:

~~ The U.S. Government now has a Religious Freedom Ambassador. Has anyone visited that country? If so, how’s the food?

~~Brava, Judge. Bravo, Senator:

Dasvidaniya. Have a good weekend!
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