Moby’s “When It’s Cold I’d Like to Die” (sung by Mimi Goese) is currently playing in my ear. Although I’m conflicted about Stranger Things, their music director made fantastic choices, some that I had completely forgotten. The “official” Stranger Things playlist is a walk through my teens and early 20s. I hear a song and I’m suddenly in Florida, laughing in the heat, the sky that intense blue of a summer afternoon.
I’m delighted to report that my article, “Are We Not Evil?,” published in The Third Annual, has been called “…that oddball postscript…typical of the ‘don’t-give-a-fuck’ approach [Frans de Waard] habitually adopts.” The reviewer, Alan Rider, from Outside Left Literature, goes on to say that the Annual “…is superbly executed….” You can read the full review here. If you still haven’t bought a copy of the Annual, text me or leave me a note here on my blog. It’s 250+ pages of underground, out-of-the-mainstream fun. Be warned, though, I only have three or four copies left.
In a coffee shop that is nearly empty, two children are now sitting so close to me that they can, and have, bumped into me multiple times, because, as we all know, children have the spatial awareness of your average bouncy ball. I love children. And thus, I am pretending that I’m delighted they are sitting nearly on top of me. I refuse to make eye contact.
Save me. Mom and the little one have gone to the restroom. The older child has taken the opportunity to rearrange their seating thus that I cannot leave mine. I am, literally, wedged into the corner of the store by an 8 year old wielding a chair.
After an hour or more of older child’s fidgeting, pencil dropping (a coordinated activity for annoying teachers when I was in grade school that apparently has not gone out of fashion), getting up for a cup of water, getting up for napkins to wipe up water, getting up to “just look” in the snack case, getting up to change leg positions, leaning as far over the back of the chair as possible in hopes of hitting me with a very long pony tail…I am finding their presence distracting. I’ve read the same paragraph at least 30 times. My computer has gone to sleep as I’ve repeatedly tapped SOS in morse code on the window pane.
On the silver lining side, I’m getting a math refresher. We’ve been focused on the fives times table for nearly 15 minutes, a little too long, in my opinion. It’s time to move onto sixes. And sevens. Yes, that was a purposeful pop culture reference. Thank you very much.
In other news, the boss (my doctor) asked me to lose 20 pounds but told me it would be difficult because I’m older than dirt postmenopausal. Challenge accepted. I’m down six pounds since our appointment. Ha, body, take that! It’s definitely not easy the way it used to be. I remember the “old” days, when I could eat chips and french onion dip for dinner and bounce out of bed the next day with the energy of someone who never lets unhealthy foods pass their lips.
Tuesday was the weekly shopping trip for my cognitively declining friend. We used to try new breakfast places regularly. Now, our choice is based on “what’s most convenient.” I always say, “well, that would certainly be the focus if we were walking or taking a horse and wagon…BUT since we’re driving, we can go wherever we want.” They always laugh at that but still fuss about distance. So, we ate breakfast two minutes from Costco, but not inside Costco, so still a win.
Ordering food is a challenge. They struggle to remember what they want and sometimes they order the wrong food. One time, for example, they ordered a reuben and fries; but what they wanted was a reuben omelet and home fries. How do they know they’ve gotten the “wrong” food? When they’re happy with their meal, it’s “the best food they’ve had in months,” every time. When they aren’t happy–almost always because they mis-ordered–they complain that it’s “hard to eat” or “doesn’t taste the way they’d expected.”
I’ve learned! Now, before our server arrives, I ask what they think they’ll order. We’ve even gone over the menu to discuss whether any of the items–almost always omelets–are good. They’ve had all of the options so I can even steer them toward their favorites if they can’t choose. If they can’t remember their order by the time the server arrives, I jump in and say “You mentioned ‘X.’ Did you still want that?”
My favorite diner, Pamela’s, eases the ordering confusion by always offering to make us the “usual.” Let me tell you; my friend LOVES that they have reached Cheers status. Even though they don’t know what their “usual” is, they’re always delighted to know that they have a usual and that Pamela’s kitchen knows what it is. And yes, it’s the same order every single visit: a well-done Greek omelet, crispy home fries, wheat toast with grape jelly, and hot tea with lemon.
Their grocery list on Tuesday was written on a piece of paper slightly larger than a postage stamp. I’m not exaggerating, unfortunately. They couldn’t read some of the items on the list even with my handwriting decoding skills. It reminded me painfully of my MIL’s notes as she declined and my own mom’s handwriting as MS stole her hand function.
Today, we went out again to “prepare” for the bad weather like we’re heading out on the Oregon Trail. First, we went to breakfast in Pittsburgh’s strip district. The food was good but they couldn’t find the honey for their tea–they couldn’t remember what it looked like. When I pointed out the honey packets, they put it on their home fries instead of in their tea. I’ve never had honey potatoes but they were pretty happy, which is really all that matters.
Once we got to a very busy Costco, they insisted on shopping alone, as they often do. Usually, I check in to make sure all is well; but it was so busy today that I had a time keeping track, ultimately losing them entirely. Every time that happens, I wonder if I’m about to learn Costco’s protocol for when someone goes missing in their store.
Be safe out there as the storm rages and don’t forget to check on neighbors and pets.
Much love.
