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Tossed Salad Friday


~~ When a day in Dementia-ville begins without any pleasantry — unless you consider “Get soup!” the equivalent of “Good morning!” — there’s nowhere to go but downhill.


~~ Actually, downhill isn’t the right word to use, as downhill is a destination. Things in Dementia-ville are amorphous at best. You never know from visit to visit whether the sole permanent resident is disengaged (from both wakefulness and reality) or decidedly enraged. You certainly can’t predict if the aide de la semaine is going to bark or yawn at you, and you’re unsure whether she’ll alarm you with her ineptitude or enrage you with her inflexibility.


~~ Which brings us back to the soup. Last week, before we went food shopping, the standard query was made about what needed replenishing. Soup was not mentioned. When the demand came, the response was that a shopping trip was in the plans for that night (Thursday). The aide’s retort was, “No, no, you have to go now! [The patient] always has soup for lunch on Thursdays and she’s out.” Two things jumped out at us: 1) the patient doesn’t know Thursday from any other day of the week anymore, so flexing soup day is doable, and 2) if she had soup last Thursday for lunch, and we asked the aide on Thursday evening what was needed, the soup had run out before the prior grocery outing. Therefore, either the aide mistakenly omitted asking for more soup for the patient, or she finished it herself and is now craving more. If it’s the former, no biggie — just float soup day to Friday. If it’s the latter, give me a freakin’ break. While it’s not our responsibility to provide food for the aide, we would certainly get her something if needed. But, c’mon, why play this soupremely stupid game and tie it to the patient?


~~ As you can tell, I’ve been stewing about this since yesterday. However, I need to can this wonton waste of energy. I’m not punny by nature, and better take stock of myself.


~~ I did a quick search on a state environmental site looking for a statistic. Here’s the warning that jumped off the page:

WARNING!

Avoid Recreation in Sewage Pollution

Notifications of sewage discharges help the public avoid boating, fishing or swimming in waterbodies that may contain illness, causing bacteria.


I’m so glad to receive this caution. Otherwise, I was likely to engage in recreational activities within the nearest sewage pollution.


~~ I purchased a gift certificate last week and asked the salon person to include the tip in the certificate. “Wow,” she said, “no one does that.” I remarked that I am not a fan of receiving a gift that requires me to pony up 20% of the cost in order to use it, and that I’ve wasted nice presents because I never had the discretionary cash to redeem them. She shook her head and said, “You’d be surprised how many people actually do redeem the certificates and just don’t tip.” I am astonished that anyone would do that.


~~ A woman says her friend bought an $800.00 dress to wear for an occasion next year. As an incentive to lose weight, she bought the dress one size too small. Short of her engaging surgical intervention, buying industrial strength Spanx, and/or deploying Draconian measures at the dinner table, raise your hands if you think someone is going to buy a gorgeous dress in 2019 for $5.00 at Goodwill.


~~ I read Lisa Genova’s Every Note Played last week. While I thought I’d grow depressed by the subject matter — a brilliant classical pianist succumbing to ALS — the exquisite writing made this novel a pleasure. When I finished reading, I just sat there for minute after minute, unwilling to put the book down. I wanted to both absorb the awfulness of this disease and soak up the excellence of the author.


~~The yoga teacher led the class into relaxation and then said, “If you don’t want me to adjust your shoulders, place a little hand on your belly and I‘ll pass you by.” She giggled and clarified, “I mean your regular size hand. A little hand sounds creepy.” Under my breath, I whispered, “Or presidential.”




Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend!

LET’S GO METS!

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