Sunday Dinner

On Sunday evenings, we have Alan's mom, my mom, and Leonard (Mom's best friend at Raider Ranch) over for supper.  The conversation is lively, convoluted, confusing, and humorous.  By the time everyone heads home, my brain is tired.

My mother-in-law, Mary, usually arrives a few minutes before Alan gets back from picking up Meems and Leonard from the Ranch.  We have a bit of quiet conversation before the party gets started.  Once Meems and Leonard enter, the house starts to really rock.

The red lettering represents the things we've heard my mother say at least 7,346 times during Sunday Night Suppers.

Me:  Hey, Leonard!  Hey Mom!  (Hugs all around.)

Leonard:  We are so happy to see you, and don't you look beautiful! (I have on no makeup and I'm wearing gym shorts with an old t-shirt.)  Just look how pretty your legs are!  (Turns to Meems.)  You certainly have a beautiful daughter!

Meems:  Yes, I do. (then turns to me abruptly) Do you know what you get when you add 2 odd numbers together?  (She and Leonard watch Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader just before Alan picks them up.)

Me (adding 7 + 7 in my head):  An even number!

  

Meems (looking at me in awe):  I didn't think you would know that because you're so bad in math!  Did you add 2 numbers in your head to figure it out?!

Me:  No...I'm just really smart like that.  Dinner!  What would everyone like to drink?!

Once seated at the table - Leonard with his root beer, Mary with her water, and Meems with the beer she split with Alan - Leonard says the blessing.  

It usually begins like this:  "Everyone grab hands, close your eyes, and bow your heads."

After all of the food has been passed, salted and peppered, the fun begins.

Meems:  Do you know which president never married?

Me:  James Buchanan!!  I win!!

Meems (looking at me like I'd just shouted out the cure for all cancers):  How did you know that?!  (I resist telling her the real reason - see red lettering)

Me:  I'm just really smart like that!

Alan and I begin to tell everyone about our fun visit to see Jonathan in Chicago.

Alan:  We went to the Cubs game on Saturday afternoon.

Leonard:  Who won?

Alan:  The Pirates.

Leonard:  Did you get to meet any of the players or the manager of the team?

Alan:  Nope.  We just ate peanuts and watched the game.

Leonard:  I see.  Did you get to meet the mayor of Chicago while you were there?  (Wherever you go.  Whatever you do.  Leonard will quiz you about which muckety-mucks you met.)

Alan:  Uh, no.

Mom:  I dated three men named Bill in college, and two of them asked me to marry them!

Alan:  We also took a really fun food tour around a couple of Chicago neighborhoods.

Me:  It was great!  We got to taste Chicago hot dogs...

Leonard:  Did they have relish on them?

Me:  No.  They had tomato wedges, a pickle spear, little peppers, and...

Leonard:  No relish?!

Me:  Nope.  No relish.

Mom:  We had chicken cordon bleu bites at Happy Hour on Friday night.  They are my favorite!

Me:  That sounds good!  We also got to taste some pizza and some falafel sandwiches...

Leonard:  Was it pepperoni pizza?

Me:  Nooooo.  It was mostly just cheese.

Leonard:  Pepperoni is my favorite.

Mom:  I don't have another check up until February.  Carolyn, when is your next check up?

Me:  February.  And, we got to taste this ice cream that was made while-you-wait with liquid nitrogen!  It was really fun to watch!

Leonard:  Was it vanilla?

Me (getting weary):  I'm not sure what flavor it was, but it was really good.

Leonard:  So you're sure it wasn't vanilla?

Alan:  It wasn't vanilla.

Mom:  Living at Raider Ranch is like living at a resort hotel!  Even if I had a house here in Lubbock, I'd rather live there!  Oh, Carolyn, do you know what you get when you add 2 odd numbers?

Me:  An even number.  Who wants ice cream?  Alan, tell them about all the toppings we have...  (I stand and begin to clear the dishes.)

Mom:  I can't answer most of the questions on Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader, can you?  (question thrown in my direction.)

Me:  I taught 5th grade for 3 years, and I can't answer all of the questions!  Do you want chocolate sauce or...hey!...we have root beer...do you want a root beer float?

Mom:  That would be nice.

Leonard:  Have you heard from the president of Baylor University lately?

Judge Starr came to Lubbock for the Baylor Women's Council Scholarship Dinner last April.  I had the fine honor of introducing him before he spoke.  Leonard thinks that Judge Starr and I are BFFs.

Me:  No, Leonard.  Judge Starr is a busy man.  Do you want plain ice cream?  (I already know the answer.  No matter what we have for dessert - chocolate cake, banana pudding, strawberry shortcake - Leonard generally requests 2 scoops of vanilla ice cream.)

Leonard:  Yes, I do.  When is the last time you heard from Judge Starr?

Me:  April.  Mary, what about you?

Mary is very quiet by nature.  At these Sunday Suppers, she says very little.  OK.  Truth be told, she can't get a word in edgewise.

Mom:  Can you believe that they don't have any paid dancers on cruise ships any more?  They used to have paid dancers who would dance with all the single ladies.

Alan and I exchange glances because we can't quit singing that song since my 10-21-12 post.  "All the single ladies!  All the single ladies!"

The conversation continues its dips and dives and jumps and leaps until I happily notice the time.

Me:  Oh, Mom!  It's almost 8:00!!  It's almost time for you to head to bed!

Mom:  Oh!  I do need to head to bed!  I sleep until 10:30 or 11:00 every morning!  Sometimes I don't even get up 'til noon!

Leftovers are packaged and divided between our guests.  Hugs are exchanged.  Alan tucks Mom and Leonard into his car while Mary drives away in hers.  I stand on the sidewalk listening to a flock of birds hidden in a tree just down the block.  They are screeching and squawking.  Probably they are those lovely black grackles.  I turn and head back into the house.  The quiet is indescribably delicious.  I grab what's left of my supper iced tea and head to my favorite chair in the living room and turn the TV.  Ahhhh.  It's the Real Housewives of New Jersey at their rotten finest.  All I have to do is sit, listen, and roll my eyes. 

Ninety-One-Derful

Our beloved friend, Leonard, turned 91 yesterday.  He would say it this way:  "I'm 91 today, April the 19th, in the year 2 thousand and 17.  I was born at 3:00 AM on Monday, April the 19th, in the year nineteen twenty-six in Roanoke, Virginia.  They said that I was in a hurry to get here because I wouldn't wait until sunup."  Leonard has been Mom's best friend since she moved here in 2010.  They met at Raider Ranch.  We started giving Leonard rides to church.  Pretty soon, he was joining us for holidays.  Now he is a full-fledged member of the Lackey family.  He gives a beautiful blessing at every meal we share together.

For his birthday, we told him to pick a restaurant - sometimes it's Red Lobster, yesterday it was Cheddars.  He likes fish.  They have some sort of trout dish at Cheddars that suits his palate.  Wherever we go to eat, he always asks, "Do they have trout?  Do they have catfish? Do they  have pork chops?"  Plan D is usually chicken fingers.  For his joyous birthday celebrations, Alan tells Leonard that he can invite some friends.  This is a risky move because Leonard considers everyone he has ever met a friend.  Seriously, you cannot take the man ANYWHERE in town without hearing someone calling out from across a room, "Leonard!"  Alan and I just look at each other and grin shaking our heads.  The man no longer drives and is legally blind.  He lives in a retirement community.  But, somehow, he has developed an ever-growing circle of friends.

When the guest list swelled to 14 yesterday, I looked at Alan with wide eyes.  "You still gonna pick up the bill?!"  "Yup.  It's Leonard's birthday.  But, if someone pushed money into my hand, I might not resist."  I knew that was not true.  He ALWAYS grabs the check first at these shindigs.  Due to the mature ages of most of the invited guests, it was highly probable that someone would back out at the last minute due to "feelin' poorly."  We ended up with a party of 10.

Leonard came into the restaurant carrying a wrinkled plastic grocery sack that bulged with what I thought was "information."  Leonard LOVES information.  He gets about 10 extra bulletins at church on Sundays to mail to his friends in Baltimore so that they can keep up with what he's doing.  When we pick him up on Sundays, he generally has a sack of information for us that might include a program from the symphony or the monthly menu and activity calendar from his independent living facility or a flier that he picked up somewhere along the way.  He is so sweet to keep us informed of his daily activities.  

The bulging bag did not hold information, it was full of BIRTHDAY CARDS.  Thirty to be exact.  They had all been opened and enjoyed.  He simply wanted to "share the love" with us.  When we sat down at the table, he passed down a handwritten list to me so I could "read it later."  As I started to slip it into my purse, my mother-in-law clarified that he wanted me to read the list aloud to all of the birthday party attendees later in the evening.

Meems was in rare form last night.  She was very talkative and confused which made her rather entertaining.  

Last night, she was all...

"Tell Leonard to crawl under the table and come sit by us."

"Did Dobo bring whiskey to the party?"  [Let me explain.  Dobo was my dad's nickname.  Let's just say that he had a "taste for the drink."  While whiskey wasn't his drink of choice, it would not be unusual for him to come "prepared."]

"No, Mom.  Dobo's not coming.  He's dead, remember?"

"Good because I was going to get really mad if he came with whiskey to Leonard's party."  [Leonard is a teetotaler.]

At one point she regaled the lady next to her with the story of the man-eating catfish.  I blamed my niece, Kelly, for that because she ordered fried catfish for dinner.

Today she was all...

Here is the best part of the story.  The birthday cards.  Leonard received several more cards at dinner.  At the end of the meal, he beckoned for Alan to come around to his side of the table.  "Would you read all of my cards aloud for me?"  "You mean the ones that are unopened."  "Yes.  And all of the ones in the bag."  You know how the elderly treasure those long poems and sayings on the fronts of birthday cards?  Leonard is no exception.  I would have said something like, "Why don't I hold them up and tell who each card is from?"  Not Alan.  He is a true blue friend of Leonard.  He took the stack and read each and every card from the outside to the inside down to the last jot and tittle.  ALL THIRTY-FIVE.  EVERY WORD.  My heart almost burst with love for that man.  Leonard sat listening with a sweet smile on his face.  After each card was read, he would tell a little bit about the sender.  "He's been my best friend for 52 years!  He lives in Baltimore!  I talk to him twice a week on the telephone!"

The handwritten list?  It was a list of the 12 people who called to wish him a happy birthday.

Instead of cake, we ordered Leonard's absolute favorite dessert.  He has the same dessert after every meal he eats be it Thanksgiving dinner or Christmas dinner or baked trout at Cheddars.  "One scoop of vanilla ice cream."  I should probably give you a heads up.  At Cheddars, they do not keep birthday candles on hand.  Had I known, I would have come prepared.  The manager did bring a couple of chocolate chip cookies and a coupon for chips and salsa to the Birthday Boy - neither of which Leonard will eat.  

Happy Birthday 91st birthday, Sweet Leonard.  You bring so much joy and laughter and grace and into our family.  We cherish your friendship.  You are so loved by so many.  And, trust me on this, if Dobo had risen from his grave and crashed the party with a jug of Jim Beam, Meems would have beat the tar out of him.

My niece, Kelly, wrote the sweet post below...

God Bless Mom's New Best Friend - Leonard

About  two months after Mom moved into Raider Ranch, I asked her if she was already making friends.  

"Yes, there are a lot of nice people at Raider Ranch - Mamie Sue, Virginia, Betty Jo.  I can't see their faces [macular degeneration], but I recognize some of their voices.  I always know who Betty Jo is because she wears pretty turquoise necklaces.  My best friend is Leonard."

"Leonard?"

"Yes.  I eat with Leonard and Mr. Pruett every day."  (She can't remember Mr. Pruett's first name.)

God bless Leonard.  He is so patient with Mom.  He can tell you what size Chico's pants she wears and what size she used to wear.  He can tell you how many pounds Mom wants to lose and how she keeps gaining weight by eating sausage biscuits and gravy at the "free" breakfast buffet.  (I think that when you call a meal "free," seniors eat like they will never have another meal this side of the pearly gates.)

Last week, I took Mom to Chico's to help her find some white crop pants.  After trying on about 6 pairs of possibilities, - in the size she used to wear, the next size up, and the size that she's about to need if she keeps eating sausage  biscuits  -  she decided that Talbots' pants usually fit her perfectly.  Off to Talbots' we went.  She tried on various sizes in petite pants.  Then, she sent me to fetch the same sizes in "Missy" pants (regular people pants).  We left Talbots empty handed after she had filled the saleslady in on all the sizes she had worn over the years.  "I used to fit into Chicos' zeros!  Now, I'm at Raider Ranch, and the food is really good!"

The next day, she called me in the late afternoon to tell me about her excursion to the South Plains Mall in search of white crop pants at Dillard's.  She was so proud of herself.  Raider Ranch transports people to the mall once a week, and she had signed up for her little white crop pants adventure.

"You went on the shuttle all by yourself, Mom?"

"Leonard went!"

"What did Leonard need at the mall?"

"Oh, he didn't need anything.  He went along to help me find the ladies' department in Dillards."

"He's a SAINT!  Did he pull sizes for you?"

"Oh, no.  The saleslady did that.  He just waited for me while I tried the pants on.  Then, he took me to Bath and Body so that I could get some lotion."

At this point, I am envisioning Leonard leading Mom around in the mall like a seeing-eye dog and regretting that I hadn't been there to take pictures of the whole experience.  I felt tears welling up in my eyes.  If Leonard only knew how much I hate to shop for clothes!  It was then that I fully realized that Leonard was actually MY best friend.

Leonard's birthday was Tuesday.  He turned 85.  "Now he's the same age as me!" Mom chirped at Red Lobster during his birthday dinner.  Alan let Leonard pick the restaurant.  He likes Red Lobster because they have crab cakes.  Leonard moved to Lubbock's Raider Ranch from Baltimore.  He really misses his crab cakes.

We feasted on crab cakes and coconut shrimp.  "You can get coconut shrimp at Raider Ranch.  You just can't find any coconut on their shrimp," Leonard explained.  Several cute waiters brought Leonard's dessert and sang Happy Birthday to him.  The manager came over and gave us a small stack of $5 off coupons for our future visits to Red Lobster.  

Mom and the Birthday Boy

I know what you're thinking.  And, no.  There is no romantic interest between these two besties.  They walk arm and arm.  They look after each other.  It's a beautiful thing.

Now that Leonard is our best friend, I'm sure that there will be many more trips to Red Lobster.

AND NOW, FOR THE HARD OF HEARING

This is our Sunday morning routine:  Drive to Raider Ranch.  Help Meems and her BFF, Leonard, get into the car.  Buckle their seat belts.  Drive to church.  Unbuckle their seat belts.  Load Meems up in her little travel wheelchair.  Wheel her into groovy church with Leonard following close behind.  Get them situated in their seats.  Go get their donuts.  Meems wants 1/2 a cup of decaf and 2 donut halves.  Leonard prefers a juice box and a bottled water with his 2 donut halves.  Deliver donuts and drinks.  By the time we've done all of this, the service has started and before we have time to sit down, it's time to stand up and sing.

The best part of the morning is the time we spend with them in the car.  It goes something like this:

Me:  Mom, how did you sleep last night?

Leonard:  YOUR DAUGHTER WANTS TO KNOW HOW YOU SLEPT LAST NIGHT?

Meems (in her tiny voice):  Fine.

Leonard:  Your mother says she slept just fine.

Meems:  When is my next dentist appointment?  I know I have one, I just can't remember when it is.

Leonard:  She says she wants to know when her next dentist appointment is.  She says she knows you told her, but she can't remember when you said it is.

Me:  Mom, it's in January 2015.  You'll be 89 years old then.  I'll keep you posted.

Meems:  Oh.  

Leonard:  YOUR DAUGHTER SAID THAT IT'S NOT UNTIL JANUARY OF 2015 AFTER YOU TURN 89.  SHE'LL KEEP YOU POSTED.

Meems:  Oh.

Sometimes, Leonard takes it upon himself to let us know about any health "issues" that Meems hasn't mentioned to us.

Leonard:  Your mom has the constipation.  Can you get her something at the store for that?

Alan and I look at each other choking back laughter.  Eye rolling happens.

Me:  Mom, did you run out of fruitcake?  (She likes to keep Collins Street Bakery fruitcakes on hand year-round because of their tasty laxative qualities.)

Leonard:  DO YOU STILL HAVE SOME OF THAT FRUITCAKE?  DOESN'T IT HELP YOU GO TO THE BATHROOM?

Mom:  I'm almost out of it.  Oh, wait.  I may have another one in the freezer.

Leonard:  Your mother says that she may be almost out of it, but she might have another one in the freezer.  (turns to Mom)  DO YOU WANT CAROLYN TO COME IN WHEN THEY DROP US OFF FROM CHURCH TO SEE IF SHE CAN FIND A FRUITCAKE IN YOUR FREEZER?  

Mom:  No.  I'll find it.  But I don't know when my next dentist appointment is.

And that, my friends is why I take a Sunday afternoon nap.

AND THAT, MY FRIENDS IS WHY I TAKE A SUNDAY AFTERNOON NAP.

Meems' New Home

At 9:00 this morning, I found Meems rummaging around in my kitchen in search of Raisin Bran.  "I accidentally woke up early," she explained.  Indeed, she did.  Eleven AM is usually when Sleeping Beauty graces us with her presence.  "Did you wake up because you're excited about seeing your new place?" I asked hopefully.  "No.  I just accidentally woke up."  Oh, boy.  Here we go.

After a week of searching for the perfect assisted living/memory care facility for her, packing up the tonnage of "must-haves" that she brought from Waco to her apartment at Raider Ranch, putting a half ton of don't-needs in storage, and then, setting up her room at Wilshire Place, move-in day arrived.  "Will I have free long distance?"  "Will you come to see me?"  "Do they have good food?"  The questions from the days leading up to the move changed to "Is this where I'll live until I die?" and  "Will they take good care of me?"  My stomach churned.  "You can have all my furniture.  I won't be needing it any more."  Just matter of fact.  No tears.

Leonard and The Meems

After she consumed a heaping bowl of Raisin Bran, I helped my tiny 89-year-old mother put on her favorite pink (she calls the color "shrimp") pants and one of the new tops I picked up the day before in the Allison Daley (translated:  easy to put on clothing) section of Dillard's.  "Now Mom, you can't wear your nightgown all day at Wilshire Place like you have been here at my house.  Just think of these new tops and your 'easy pants' (again, elastic-waisted Allison Daley's) as your daytime pajamas!"  "That's right," she murmured.  "Yup.  You can get up for breakfast at 8:00 with your new friends and then roll right back into bed in your daytime pajamas!"  A soft grin.  "That's right."

On the way to her new home, we stopped by Raider Ranch to meet up with Meem's BFF, Leonard, and my husband, Alan.  She would enter her new digs with a full on entourage.  Her fans.  Her encouragers.

One of the biggest selling points of Wilshire Place is that they offered to go get Leonard at Raider Ranch any time he wants to come visit Mom.  He and Meems are going to have standing dates for lunch every Monday and Friday.  (Leonard volunteers handing out food vouchers at a local church on Tuesdays and Thursdays.)    After all I told them about the special relationship that Leonard has with our family, they were anxious to meet him.  And, he did not disappoint.

"Take care of my best friend, Helen.  She is precious to us, and we want the very best for her!" with a few sprinklings of "Happy New Year!" "God Bless You!" and "Have a blessed day!" That's what Leonard sang out to everyone he met as we rolled Meems in her wheelchair to her new room.  Believe it or not, several people actually knew Leonard.  It never surprises me.  Leonard makes himself known in the best possible way wherever he goes.

We gave Mom time to wander around her room.  I showed her where I put her purses and where her "smart toothbrush" (that's what she calls her Sonicare) could be found.  "My room is bigger than I thought it would be!"  "I didn't know that I would have my own furniture here!"  "Leonard, do you think it's a nice place?!"  "Yes, it's a very nice place, Miss Helen!"  "My room is bigger than I thought it would be!"  "Is that my dresser?!"  "Is that my bed?!"  "Yes, Mom, it's your very own furniture!"  "I didn't know I'd get to have my own furniture!"

Sweet Leonard had us surround Mom and grasp hands.  He prayed over her, her room, and the entire staff of Wilshire Place.  I wish that I had recorded that special moment in time.  He is an "old school" man of god that back in the day carried a sermon in his suit pocket on Sundays in case the pastor called in sick.  The man can pray.  The prayer gave us peace.  Hearty were the amens.

Mom mentioned the size of her room and the fact that she had her own furniture numerous times.  I mean NOOM-ER-RUSS.  It finally dawned on me.  She was remembering the nursing home her own mother had been in years ago.  A depressing place with overworked, underpaid aides and the faint smell of urine.  The word "dank" comes to mind.  A place where you live, no, stay until you die.  About the 5th time she told me that I was a really good daughter, I realized that she was grateful for her new, spacious room in a place that smelled clean and flowery.  It made me sad to think that she so willingly got in the car resigned to the fact that she was heading to a dreary place where one waits for life to end.  Nope.  Not now.  Not ever.  Never.  #longtermcareinsurance

The morning just kept getting better.  We learned that Mom could wear her gown and robe to breakfast!  And, they have eggs-over-easy on the breakfast menu!  Now she was lookin' at lunches with Leonard...PJs at the breakfast table...AND, her favorite - EGGS OVER EASY!  (They serve only scrambled eggs at Raider Ranch.)  This was a huge leap in the right direction.  I could have kissed the lady that showered us with these glad tidings.

If you've heard me tell this story before, stop reading now.  Well, when you figure out which of my repetitive stories I'm telling...

About a week before we moved to Lubbock, I discovered that I was pregnant.  However, I was also sure that I was miscarrying.  No, I was SURE beyond sure that I had miscarried.  Because I had had so many miscarriages in the past, the doctor sent me for a high-powered sonogram at the hospital there in Dallas.  I took a packed bag because I just knew that I was going to have a DNC following the sonogram.  The technician was all perky and bright.  "Look!  There's your baby's heartbeat!"  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I thought.  I had heard that before.  Heartbeats followed by heartbreak.  

As I was leaving the room, the technician said, "Don't you want to know your due date?!"  "Sure.  Tell me."  I knew that the day would never come.  "What is it?"  "March 3rd!"  My heart lifted.  I knew that God was telling me that this baby would be just fine.  We named him Reed.

When the lady from Wilshire Place was showing my friend, Linda, and me around, she asked if we would like to see the room that Mom would have.  There was only one room open in the memory care area.  "Sure!  I'd love to see it!"  She gestured to a room just steps away from where we were standing.  Room 33.  I said a quick prayer of thanks.  It was a sweet confirmation that this was the place for Mom.

March 3rd.  33.  That's my birthday.  It's a day that I've always loved because Mom made our birthdays so special.  God knows that 33 = my happy place.  Boom.  Confirmation.  Blessed.  She's home.

We left her all snuggled up in her daytime pajamas
on her very own couch ready to take a cat nap.

Have You Ever Been to DEE-troit?

Last night, Alan and I had a night out on the town with the "elders."  Mom, Leonard, and my mother-in-law (Mary) went with us to dinner at Red Lobster (Leonard's fav) and then to a movie.  Actually it wasn't just a movie.  It was a showing of the 25th anniversary performance of Phantom of the Opera at Royal Albert Hall complete with curtain call appearances by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Sarah Brightman, and numerous past phantoms.  Amazing.

We arrived at the theatre early so that it wouldn't be "too dark" for Mom to maneuver to her seat.  She likes to sit on one of the top rows because of her macular degeneration.  It takes a village to get her there.

Conversation before the performance started...

Mom:  Did you know that people can steal a baby's identity?!  I don't see how that could be possible!

Me:  Yup.  All a bad guy needs is a social security number and a name to become a complete and total baby.

Mom:  But, babies don't even have social security numbers because they can't work!

Me:  Nowadays, they are born with social security numbers.  If the wrong person gets ahold of it they can totally steal the baby's identity.

Mom:  But, how can they get the social security number if the baby doesn't even know it?!

I kid you not.  At least she busted out laughing after she realized what she said.

Then...

Mom:  I saw The Phantom of the Opera at Lincoln Center about six rows from the front!  I liked it almost as much as I liked Lay-Miz-er-AH-bulls!  (A "Frenchman" told her the correct pronunciation.  She refers to Les Mis as often as possible so that she can tell people about the Frenchman.)

Leonard:  I saw The Phantom of the Opera in Baltimore.  It was in New York.  Then, it came to Baltimore.

Mom:  Oh.

Leonard:  Have you ever been to DEE-troit?

Mom:  Yes.  (long pause)  No.  (another pause before she turned to me)  Have I ever been to Detroit?

Me:  Nope.  Unless you went there for some wild girls' weekend that you haven't told me about.

Mom:  (turning to Leonard)  I've never been to Detroit.

Just after the performance began...

[When the show started, the sound was off.  A fellow viewer went and told the management.  The sound came on...really loud.]

Mom:  (leaning towards me and shouting in my ear) Is there somebody named Kristen or Kristine in this?

Me:  Don't know, Mom.  Haven't ever seen it.

Mom:  Well, if you see somebody named Kristen or Kristine, it's the same show I saw at Lincoln Center in New York City.

Me:  Got it!

Then I noticed...

About 10 minutes into the musical, I looked over at Mom to see if she was still awake.  She was wide awake.  With bits of Kleenex wadded up and stuck in her ears.  Our eyes met, and she smiled brightly.

As we were leaving:

Me:  Wasn't that amazing!?

Mom (with Kleenex still in her ears):  It was!  (then, loudly enough for the whole crowd to hear)  I liked Lay-Miz-er-AH-bulls better!!  There was more music.  (don't ask me)  I saw it at Lincoln Center in New York City.

Back at "The Ranch":

The lobby was deserted when we dropped off Mom and Leonard at Raider Ranch.  

Mom:  Don't worry about me.  Leonard will see that I get to my apartment safely.

Leonard:  Do you have your jacket?

Mom:  Yes.

Leonard:  Do you have your scarf?

Mom:  Yes.

Leonard:  Do you have your pocketbook?

Mom:  Yes.

Mom usually goes to bed around 8:30.  She wakes up to go to the bathroom at about 9AM which is when she pushes the Raider Ranch check-in button (ie, the "I'm Still Kickin'" Button).  After checking in, she pads back to her bed, snuggles in and sleeps until 11:00 or 11:30.  I'm sure that she slept until afternoon today after the wild night we had last night.

Five Good Things

Friday I went to see Meems at Wilshire Place anxious to see if she was settling in nicely.  Her face lit up when she realized that it was her daughter that had entered her room.  #maculardegeneration  "I'm SO GLAD you came to see me," she beamed.  Standing next to her was her best friend, Leonard, who had been picked up at Raider Ranch as promised by the WP director in a "limousine" for his Friday lunch date with Meems.  I couldn't remember the last time I saw Mom so alert and genuinely smiling.  Was it last Christmas?  Her birthday last year?  2013?

In unison she and Leonard asked, "Do you want to eat with us?!"  Tempting as it was, I assured them that my visit would have to be brief.  Piles of laundry and dishes had accumulated at my house during the time I'd spent moving Mom to her new digs.  "Well. They don't have good soup here anyway," Meems said softly.  In three short days of residing at her new assisted living facility, she had determined that all soup possibilities were unacceptable?  I made a mental note to ask the aides if Mom had, indeed, ordered soup for any of the 9 meals she'd eaten since Wednesday lunch.

"You're the second good thing that has happened to me today!" she beamed.  It was then that I noticed that she wearing lipstick.  Lipstick!  In the middle of the day!  Between meals!  "Two good things before noon!?  I'm guessing that the first good thing is about to join you for lunch," I replied grinning at Leonard.  "Yes!  Today is a good day!  Last night I was feeling sad because I missed my friends at Raider Ranch, now two good things have already happened today!"  I wanted to look upward with a Jimmy Stewart wink and say, "Atta boy, Clarence!"

"I can't believe that I'm in such a nice place!  My furniture looks better here than it did at Raider Ranch!  I can't believe I have so much space!"  All of a sudden I found myself fully enjoying this chorus of her never ending song.  This was good news that I could hear over and over again.  "Leonard, can you believe I have this much space?!"

Together the three of us made the short walk to the dining area.  "I'm having half of a sloppy joe for lunch," Mom offered.  "Leonard, what are you having?" I asked.  "Smothered pork chops (pork chops are his favorite) and whatever goes with it.  They're having chocolate cake for dessert.  You sure you don't want to join us?!"  

On the way to the table, Meems leaned over and patted one of her nameless new friends and said with a grin, "You look too young to be here!"  Her friend giggled with delight.  They both seemed oblivious to the fact that "youth" combined with "memory care" was not particularly desireable.  

I sat with Meems and Leonard for a while as they ate.  Mom had smothered pork chops.  Turns out the sloppy joe was her supper selection.  "I was feeling kind of sad last night, now two good things have happened.  Leonard, can you believe I have so much space here?!"

Later that afternoon, I was folding clothes in my kitchen when the phone rang.  "Four good things have happened to me today," the tiny voice said forgoing the obligatory salutation.  "Four?!" I said with exaggerated amazement.  "Yes.  Leonard was one.  You were one.  Then, I met your pretty friend who is tall and her mom.  Her mom LIVES here!"  "You mean, Claudia?" I asked.  "Is that her name?" she replied indicating that her mind was  totally cleared of the many discussions we had had about my friend, Claudia, and her mother who would be Mom's across the hall neighbor at Wilshire Place.  

"Did you count Claudia and her mom as numbers three and four, or did something else good happen?"  "Something else good happened!  Her dad came and sang to us.  He had 3 life-sized dummies that sang with him!  That was the fourth thing!"  I added "man with three life-sized dummies?" and "Claudia's dad?" to my fact-checking list.

"The man was a really good singer AND a ventriloquist.  Most of the ladies slept through his singing, but I didn't because he was a really good singer!"  "And the dummies?" I teased.  She softly chuckled, "Yes, they were good singers, too.  AND, we had ice cream for our snack!  They only had strawberry, but it was good!"  "You are SO lucky!  I had a half of a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, and now I'm folding clothes," I lamented.  "Well," she replied.  That's all. Just "well." 

She didn't know it at the time, but the fifth good thing was coming at 5:30.  Alan was going to stop by after work.  Happy, Happy.  Joy.  Joy.

Five.  Five GOOD things.  And, a bromeliad.  It's a long story.  I need to write a letter to my 89 year old self reminding me to look for 5 simple good things each day.  Simple delights that other people might pass by without noticing.  It's the noticers who are truly happy.

For the record:  Claudia's dad is no longer living.  He was not and never had been a ventriloquist.

Mimi & Leonard do Holiday Happening

On Wednesday, Mom called me all excited and said, "We're* going to Holiday Happening** tomorrow!" 

*We = her compadres at Raider Ranch who have signed up to ride "for free" on the RR bus transporting the Ranchers to the event

**Holiday Happening = a grand 4 day fundraiser that the Junior League of Lubbock has every year - a style show, Breakfast with Santa, evening events, and a HUGE market hall filled with really tons vendors of cool stuff.

"That sounds fun," I tentatively replied.  My years of Holiday Happening experience, including serving on the Holiday Happening Committee, raised a yellow caution flag in my brain.  "It's going to be really crowded, I hope that you don't get lost," I warned.

"Leonard is going to go with me and help me find things," she assured me.

I greatest hope was that Leonard could help her find the bus home at the end of the outing.

"I want to get some more of that good lotion you gave me!" 

Sidebar:  My mother is notorious for walking into stores and asking to see the brown velvet pants that were shown on the front of their catalog "a couple of years ago"...not-dark-brown-they-were-light-brown-but-not-khaki.  Don't even try to convince her that the saleslady will most likely roll her eyes in the same fashion I did.

"Mom, it's going to be really hard to find that lady out of all the booths at Holiday Happening.  I'm not sure that I could find her with my 20/20 vision," I cautioned.

"I know,***" she replied blandly.

***I know = passive-agressive fake acquiescence 

Yesterday afternoon as I was driving Leonard and the Meems to a function for Alan's bank, I asked them how they enjoyed Holiday Happening.

"It was OK," mom replied.

"Did you find that lotion?"

"No," she said quietly.

"We asked 28 people**** where the lotion was, and not a one of them could help us!!" Leonard exclaimed as if all of the Holiday Happening attendees were keeping secret the vendor of good lotions.  "They didn't even know where I could find some notecards.  I'm almost out of notecards!"

****28 people = an exact number because Leonard is a numbers guy who can tell you the exact number of state senators and representatives there are in the Texas and he's from Baltimore. 

"Leonard, I can't recall ever seeing notecards there," I said trying to console him.

"Well, that's all I needed, and they didn't have any," he said looking out the car window.

"And, we couldn't find that lotion.  Maybe you could go and see if you can find it," Meems added.

On Sunday when we pick up Mom and Leonard for church, I'm going to hold high over my head the extra bottle of lotion that I have squirreled away in my closet and herald it as Holiday Happening conquest.  I believe that would fall under the category neatly titled, "Let's Don't and Say We Did."  Boo-ya.

The Lottery

Yesterday, Mimi (86), Leonard (86), and their designated driver, Mark (92) went on a little errand.  Picture Meems and Leonard toddling all the way to the lobby from their respective Raider Ranch apartments, ambling out to Mark's car which I'm envisioning as a mile long American-made luxury sedan, and slowly, but surely, folding their creaky bodies into the car.  And, that's just the first 10 minutes of the errand.

Mom tells me that Mark is a "real good driver."  Seems like Leonard has mentioned something about how slowly Mark drives.  Either way, I don't like knowing about these errands until after the fact.  One less thing to worry about.

Mark slowly pulled out of the Raider Ranch parking lot onto 43rd St. and inched the purring  vehicle up to the light at Milwaukee.  According to Mapquest, there is a Stripes Convenience Store 1 min./.63 miles from the Ranch.  Just a block and a half north on Milwaukee.  Putt.  Putt.  Putt.  Putt.  Putt.

At Stripes, before they unfolded their little bodies and slowly pulled themselves out of the sedan using every handle and sturdy surface available, they sat still for a minute like they always do.  The elderly never just jump out of a car.  There is always something to discuss.  Here is how I imagine the conversation went...

Leonard:  Unbuckle your seatbelt, Helen.  We're here.

Mimi:  Is this Stripes?  (They only went on one errand yesterday, so she could have ruled out the cleaners or the grocery store.)

Mark:  Yes.  This is Stripes.  (Mark is a man of few words.)

Mimi:  Is this where they sell lottery tickets?

Leonard:  That's what the sign says.  "Lottery Tickets Available Here."  I guess that means you can get 'em here.

Mimi:  I can't find the seatbelt buckle.  (Mark slowly reaches over and released the buckle for her.)

Like a little band of turtles, they perambulated into the store with Mark and Leonard holding onto Meem's elbows "just in case."

At the counter...

Mimi (a little too loudly because she doesn't think that shop keepers or department store salespeople can hear very well):  WE NEED LOTTERY TICKETS!  HOW MUCH ARE THEY?!  (mumble.  mumble.  mumble.)  I WANT THE ONE THAT WINS THE MOST MONEY.  I WANT TO PAY MY GRANDDAUGHTER'S TUITION TO BAYLOR.  (mumble.  mumble.  mumble.)  TWO DOLLARS?  I'LL TAKE ONE!

Each adventurer bought one Powerball ticket for $2.00.  According to Leonard, they let the computer pick their numbers.

On the way home from church today, Mom reminded Leonard that they needed to check the winning numbers to see if any of them had won the jackpot of $94,000,000.  What?  They didn't check BEFORE church?!  

As I was kissing Mom goodbye, she told me that she sure hoped she won the money.  "I'm going to pay Kelly's way to Baylor.  Then, I'm going to send the rest of the money to my brother (who has Parkinson's disease) so he can get the best care money can buy!"  (Lucky brother!  The "leftover" lottery money would provide the best care money can buy on the beach of his private island.)

There was no mention of springing for our ever-growing debt to Baylor University times two.  No mention of buying me a dream house.  No mention of replacing our two very tired vehicles (see:  BU tuition X 2).  Nope.  I would get squat.  Her only living child.   I'm not bitter.

When I asked mom about the distribution of wealth and my dream house she replied just as serious as a judge, "But I thought you already HAD your dream house."  Yes, Meems.  According to 98% of the people on the planet our home is a dream home based on the mere fact that it has both electricity and running water.  According to her "anticipated" lottery millions, not so much.  "Hmmm.  A bigger kitchen would be fun," I replied.  I mean...it's the thought that counts.

I can see it now.  A month from now, the State of Texas will be waiting for the person who bought the winning ticket at the Stripes on Milwaukee Avenue in Lubbock, Texas to come forward to claim the prize.  And, Mom will have no idea which purse she left it in.