Today in My History

2001:  Wandering in the Desert
The Twelfth of Never
Faster Than a Speeding Bullet
Doggies vs. Death
When My Worlds Collide

2006:  Late Night Phone Calls
2007: This Entry Should Put you to Seep   
Yes, Sheila, we're Really Home
2010:  LaCage Aux Fooles
That Which Endures

2012: A Good Day After All
2013: Sunday Stealing
2014: Sunday Stealing
2015: Musta Been the Advil
2016: No Rubber Chicken

Bitter Hack
Updated 3/30
"The Glass Menagerie"

Books Read in 2017
"A Long Road Home"
"The Giilty."

Personal Home Page

My family

Family Stories Vlog

Books Read in 2017
Books Read in 2016
Books Read in 2015
Books Read in 2014
Books Read in 2013

Books Read in 2012
Books Read in 2011
Books Read in 2010



updated 7/16

(you know how to fix it)

Mirror Site for RSS Feed:
Airy Persiflage

New:  Sad Changes

Some Background Links:
The Philosophy of Juice & Crackers
The story of Delicate Pooh
The story of the Piñata Group
Who IS this Gilbert person anyway?

Swap Bot: 
My Day
Favorite Travel Photos
Things in My Life
Pocket Letters
7 Days of Meals

mail to Walt / mail to Bev  


15 April 2017

I went to have lunch at Atria today.  My mother was better than she was the last time I saw her ... kind of "medium good," the kind of day where she had to check the name on the door of each apartment because she didn't remember where she lived, but she wasn't agonizing over what she was supposed to be doing. 

We have decided to give up on trying to get her help with bathing, but hoping to solve the Depends-resistance problem, I replaced all of her current lacy underwear in her drawers with Depends.  We'll see how that goes.

We went to the dining room for lunch and the menu actually looked pretty good.

So.  We had clam chowder to start and ordered the entrée.  The soup came fairly quickly, for Atria (which is understaffed and over worked) but it was more than 15 minutes before the entrée arrived.  I had to ask the waitress twice if we were ever going to get our meals, as people around us were being served.

It arrived without any tartar sauce or cocktail sauce to dip the seafood in.  Also, there was no butter and no honey for the cornbread and no apple slaw.

The servers are really good about avoiding eye contact, but I did eventually ask the server if we could get sauce and they was also slaw in arriving, but by the time they arrived, the shrimp was cold.  The clams -- I should have taken a photo -- were the size of hamster turds, flavorless, and hard as a rock.  AND, I noted, my mother had no shrimp at all.

I would have made an issue of that but from the size of the plate and the food on it, I decided she hadn't noticed and it probably would have been too much for her anyway.  But.  Sheesh.  This was ridiculous.  It is getting more and more that this is the kind of thing that happens.  But I keep telling myself that I don't live there and my mother doesn't notice any difference, so I don't want to make a fuss, was not like this when she moved in nearly 4 years ago.  I remember meals that were actually good, but I don't remember having one in a very long time.

We sat at a table with Margaret, with whom we eat frequently, and with Bea, who is always very quiet.  My mother always makes a fuss over the flowers that adorn every table.

She always notices how beautiful they are and always feels the petals of the flowers to see if they are real or artificial, though they are never artificial.

It's funny, but visits with her must wear me out emotionally because whenever I get home from Atria, I don't come in to my office but immediately fall asleep in my recliner.  Today it was for about an hour and a half.

When I woke up it was time for Hardball with Chris Matthews.  I gave up watching Matthews a long time ago because I hate his hard-hitting style, not allowing anybody to get a word in edgewise when he has his own personal point to make, but somehow I have gotten back to Hardball in the era of Trump.

At the same time, Walt is upstairs watching Charlie Rose on PBS and he came down to tell me to turn  to that station immediately.  It was an interview with Diane von Furstenburg, so I wasn't sure why he wanted me to watch it, but the other interviewee was Jane Goodall and it was immediately clear what he meant.

Jane Goodall has her own version of Brianna's "Gasper," only her monkey is eating a banana.  I took a screen shot to send to Laurel to show to Bri.



From our front yard this morning

I'd love it if you'd leave a comment!
Remember to sign your name in the "Name" box or else you will show up as "anonymous"
(unless you want to be anonymous, that is!)

HTML Guestbook is loading comments...


<--previousnext -->

Journal home | bio | cast | archive | links | awards |  Flickr | Bev's Home Page

This is entry #66