Honest, it’s Tuesday

After several days of wire work making jewelry–oh what fun!–I had to face the fact that HOME needed some attention, especially in the food acquisition and laundry department. First, I had to go and get a gold crown reglued after it came out while I was eating a mini-Reese’s PB cup on Sunday night. Bother! Both Mom and I needed a dentist this week. Mom has a new front tooth and it looks just great; she’s much happier now that it’s in. I started laundry, then went to the grocery store in the car my father just turned over to me. I came out with sacks of groceries to put in the trunk, and found a number of Dad’s things, the most odd being a pair of wing-tip shoes in soft cloth bags. He hasn’t worn that sort of shoe for years; why carry them around? I pulled one out, and it was polished to a good shine–one of his specialties–and shaped and molded to his foot. Its familiarity as Dad’s shoes seemed sort of sad, somehow; sad, too, were three golf clubs in the trunk, one undoubtedly his favorite putter.

After lunch I went to Bickford, and asked Mom if she’d like to go outside since it was so warm–over 80ยบ
–and she said yes. Her glasses were missing; Kristi had called earlier to tell me so, and I wondered what difference it made anyway if we didn’t find them. Yesterday she’d put on the glasses and told me they made no difference at all to her vision. So we got her walker, and Coco leashed, and started out the door. “Well, I suppose there’s a place for me to collapse,” she said tartly. “Are you too tired to walk?” I asked, thinking she meant she would need a chair to rest in on the way. She gave me a look of mild disgust and said, “I don’t have my BELLS!” and pointed to her face. We got the old pair of “bells,” which she felt improved her vision enough that she wouldn’t trip and fall. Mom really enjoyed sitting out, as she always does when she is looking at trees and listening to birds. When we came in, she tried to ask something about Dad, but true gibberish is all that came out. I told her how sorry I was that I couldn’t understand, and perhaps we could address the issue tomorrow. She was satisfied with that, but I think she had a real question that I simply could not figure out. Nor do I hold much hope out that I will.

Dad was coming down the hall when Mom and I were heading out. I greeted him, and he said, with great purpose, “I’m going to watch some football!” Huh, I thought, I wonder what kind of football would be played on a Tuesday afternoon? Maybe college. Later, after Mom was back in her room, I stopped in to see him. He told me the game started in about half an hour. Completely seriously, I asked him what kind of football? College? He looked at me in disbelief. “No, it’s pro football. It’s Sunday!”

Oh dear. “Actually, Dad, it’s Tuesday.” He looked amazed, then grinned and said, “What do you know about that!” and we both laughed. I do admire his willingness to laugh. I think it’s time to bug the doctor about some memory meds. It’s on my to-do list for tomorrow, along with a second session of yoga, which almost killed me Monday.

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One Response to Honest, it’s Tuesday

  1. Helga says:

    I’m reading these faithfully, Kathy. I’ve left several comments but for some reason they haven’t shown up. I hope this one does. Thank you for your honesty.

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