Martini Cartwheels

It's been a little over 2 months since my mother Irene passed away. I've been reading books about orphaned adults, the death of one's mother, and Kitchen Confidential. Hey, I need some diversions. Irene had been on hospice care for about 6 months. On the day her passing seemed imminent, the nursing home rolled a cart into Irene's room for my sister and me with enough coffee, tea, juice, water, muffins, snacks, fruit, and cookies to feed a small army. Or, as I like to call a small army, me. Hospice brought us a booklet called When Death Is Near. To be honest, we enjoyed the cart much better. After their morning visit,the hospice nurses told us that things were progressing along. They asked me if I wanted a harp. I was surprised because I didn't think you could serve beer in a nursing home. Then light dawned over my Marblehead and I realized they were talking about an actual harp, the instrument.  How strange I thought. Yes, this day is not quite sad enough. Pleas...

Irene, my 89 year old mother, is convinced that she sold her teeth. I don't know if it is like buying a new car where you trade in your old set of wheels (or in this case molars) for a newer model but apparently the sales transaction happened recently at the nursing home in which Irene resides. I have a few questions.  Is there a lemon law? That is, if the choppers do not chew as described on the bill of sale or if the teeth literally have lemon stuck in them, can the buyer return them for a full refund? Is there an extended warranty policy available? Or does the standard 3 years/36,000 meals guarantee apply? Do you need to disclose if they have been involved in an accident or if the mouth has been somewhere it should not have been? (Please - I mean no disrespect and I'm sure this is NOT the case with Irene's teeth. But one should always check this out.) I hope the purchaser took them out for a test snack, kicked the incisors, and got a good deal for the...

Oh dear Lord. So as a follow up to my last post, my mother now thinks people are talking about her saying that she is pregnant. When my sister tried to explain that there is an age limit on these sort of things, my mother just looked at her suspiciously and said "oh really?" My mother never smoked. My mother never drank. That apparently was a big mistake. According to a new study by Martini Cartwheels Research, those who have no vices are more likely to lose their minds in their senior years. Trust me. I'm as reliable as the FDA.

Might as well start off February with a post about Irene, my 88 year old mother. Irene is at the point where "elderly paranoia" has set in. She doesn't trust most of the nurses aids which is very sad, as she depends on them for just about all of her needs. There are certain people you should always be nice to - your hairstylist, your phlebotomist, and your nurse's aid. Anyway, I'm visiting with Irene a couple of weeks ago and she tells me how the aids try to take out her teeth at night. And I tell her that yes, of course they do, because you have false teeth and you normally don't sleep with your teeth in. The reason they want her teeth, according to Irene, is to give them to a little boy, who "evidently has awful teeth". So now I'm picturing an 8 year old boy, running around with my mother's false teeth in his mouth, sporting a big ol' grin and sucking on a lollipop. But let's not stop there. Because I also imagine he is wear...

This note is taped to the closet door in my Mother's room at the nursing home. It's funny because I have similar sign on my bathroom mirror. It reads: This is a reminder to myself. If I am supposed to be at work today I must remember "to go". (Any feelings of happiness will go away in about 15 minutes)

I haven't posted in a bit so here is the back-story. My mother Irene is 88 years old and lives in a nursing home. And she hates it. Anyway, a week or two ago my sister popped by the nursing home to visit and found Irene visibly upset. The person on the television had just reported that "Irene [LastName] is a prostitute. Very disturbing. I don't know if it is the new medication or advancing dementia but I have repeatedly told Irene if she needed more money for her account I would be happy to deposit a few dollars. She doesn't have to resort to such things as prostitution in order to secure the funds to get a perm, buy a birthday card, or play bingo. Oh I suppose I would have discovered it soon enough, even if the newscaster hadn't announced it. The increased wear and tear on her walker wheels, the extra dollar bills hidden in her denture cup, the requests for the fragrant dusting powder - it all adds up. Still, I am at a loss. I'll be keeping my eye on h...

In case you are a first time visitor or perhaps have forgotten, Irene, my 87 year old mother, resides in a nursing home. And she is not very happy. On one of my recent visits the issue of the day was her bra. It was the kind with the underwire, something I myself find only slightly more comfortable than having a root canal. Apparently, even though Irene says she hates the food at the nursing home, she has somehow manage to gain about 30 pounds since living there, making said bra a little bit snug. I helped her remove the offending undergarment to offer some relief. This of course led to issue #2. "What will I wear when I go out to the TV room tomorrow? I can't wear that bra. It is too uncomfortable." I changed the conversation -  which somehow quickly switched back to "What will I wear when I go out to the TV room tomorrow? I can't wear that bra. It is too uncomfortable." So like any good daughter, I took off my bra, right then and there. I remove...

Here's a pic of Irene rockin' my sunglasses. It was hot today, but here she is in her turtleneck and pearls.  My father bought her those pearls when he was in Hawaii during World War II and she wears them proudly every day. I had a good visit today, despite the fact I had to fix Irene's teeth a couple of times. Sometimes I look at the people in the nursing home and just think what the fuck - why don't they have a mini bar in each room for these people? Let them have a little fun.  They should be having a party every day. So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1925.

A picture of our good friend Stiffy came up during the photo viewing session mentioned in the previous post. Irene should probably consider wearing those hearing aids.........

I was showing Irene* some pictures in my phone this evening when I came across this one. The face has been blurred to protect the innocent. Anyway, Irene wanted to know why this person was standing between two bowling balls. I asked her to look closely. She mentioned bowling balls for a second time. After a few seconds she blurted out "Are those tits?!" Yes Irene, those would be them. *Irene is my 86 year old mother who resides (much to her chagrin) in a nursing home.

Irene hams it up for the camera. Just after we shot this, she asked me if my chest had gotten bigger. Then she lifted up her shirt to show me she had gone up a bra size or two. Mind you, although no one was in the room with us, we were sitting in a common area.

Irene can be a little feisty at times. This weekend, while I was visiting her at the nursing home, she peaked out from her room into the hallway and spied the lift scale they use to weigh the residents, whereupon she blurted out an expletive or two and took a firm stand on not getting out of bed to get into that thing. ==== Irene: You know, I weigh 90 pounds now. [Last week she told my sister and me she weighed 190 pounds - actual weight is probably around 125] Me: I thought that is what you weighed when you first came here. Irene: No, when I first got here, I weighed 9 or 10 pounds. That doesn't sound right does it? === No Irene, that doesn't sound right at all. I know for a fact that when you were first admitted, you weighed at least 12 pounds. Hey, you can laugh or cry. I choose to laugh.

The following is a recent conversation I had with my 86 year old Mother Irene. Irene: Do you make good money? Me: Good is a relative term. What do you mean by good? Irene: Do you make at least $75.00 a week? Me: Yes, I make at least $75.00 a week. Irene: Then you're rich. Where else are you going to make that kind of money? Me: Oh, I don't know. McDonalds?

Had a nice visit today with Irene. Above is a picture of a bracelet she made. She was wearing it but told me she didn't really like it. I said I would take it. It reminds me of her when I wear it. Irene: Have you seen Sonny Bono lately on the TV? Me: No. Sonny Bono? [Irene with puzzled look] Me: You mean Chaz Bono? Irene: Oh yes, Chaz. Who was Sonny? His father? Me: Yes. Irene: Imagine all he has been through to change his body. Me: Yeah, quite a bit. Irene: How do you make a penis? I didn't answer. I mean, if I told her (2 cups flour, pinch of salt, 1/2 cup of beer, and 2 eggs) she wouldn't remember anyway. **For those of you new to my Irene posts, Irene is my 86 year old Mother. She is currently residing in a nursing home, much to her to chagrin.

Ever done a sing-a-long at a nursing home? It just so happens there was one at the nursing home where my mother Irene resides and I was lucky enough to be visiting at the time. Irene was complaining about how boring these sing-a-longs are. The activities director passed out the song sheets and put on the music. Irene pouted. So in order to make it more fun for her, I modified the lyrics a bit. What the hell I thought - everyone in there is deaf and I was positioned just behind Irene where I could whisper the new lyrics in her ear. Here's a sampling of some of the songs we sang (with modified titles for added enjoyment): My Drunken Irish Nose School Gays Homo On The Range Oh You Beautiful Blow Up Doll Sometimes instead of changing the title of the song within the lyrics, I changed an entire line: Give My Regards To B roadway Whisper of how I'm yearning, To mingle with the old time throng, Give my regards to old Broadway And say that I'll be wearing my thong. There's A Lo...

Don't let that cute little smile fool you. She's an 86 year old Tiger Mom. Had a nice chat with Irene and the ladies tonight at the nursing home. The activities director had gathered us all in a semi-circle to discuss the events scheduled for June. She's trying to get my mother to run for a position on the Resident Council. I'm sure Irene won't run, but I think it's good to encourage her nonetheless. I love sitting with the ladies. It's totally like the movie "Groundhog Day". I get asked the same questions every time I visit. Actually, I get asked the same questions every five minutes. God bless 'em. They are pretty sweet. As we sat and chatted a bit longer, Irene turned to me and said "You have nice hands. I can tell you don't do any housework". Well, I'm not sure how nice my hands actually are. I think they are ok. They are soft from all the suntan lotion I put on them and from Yorkie kisses. And of course, because I don...

Irene and my sister with one of her new tops. This was my supper. Green = vegetable, correct? Three generations in a cake coma.

"Just like mother made it. That's why father has been gone so long." There was more interesting dinner conversation this evening at the nursing home. My mother Irene sits at a table with three other ladies, all of them fairly lucid. One of the topics tonight was dogs. This is a popular topic which I've heard on more than one occasion. We talk about what type of dog each of the ladies had at some point in their life and what great pets they were. The conversation took a twist when one of the women mentioned: "Every time my grandchildren come for a visit, they ask if they can wash grandma's Chihuahua. That's what I call my thing down there." Oh my. Those kids must really want to make sure they have a line or two in Grandma's will. Well, since the residents only get a full shower a few times a week, I can see how the 'ol Chihuahua may need to get out for some fresh air. But at just what age do we go from having a kitty to having a little dog? An...

FEAST wake up in my house|feed the dog|get dressed|shovel snow|take shower|sign into work|eat breakfast|work on upgrade|debug code|analyze security|plan meetings|eat lunch|more work|feed dog|read mail|put clothes away|facebook|blog|pay bills|work some more|watch television|go to bed|read|fall asleep OR wake up in the nursing home|eat breakfast|sit|eat lunch|nap|sit|eat dinner|sit|go to bed|fall asleep FAMINE

Irene (my mother for those of you who have not seen previous related posts) is still in the nursing home and still saying wildly inappropriate things. I sat with her and two lovely ladies at their table during dinner tonight. No one seemed to like the entrée. When I inquired, Irene mentioned something about how she didn't like "the Jewish" food they serve. So first of all, Irene is in a beautiful nursing home run by the Jewish Geriatric Senior Center; second I didn't know tuna tetrazzini casserole with peas was Jewish delicacy; and third I'm pretty sure one of the woman that sits at the table is Jewish. At least she has stopped calling the nurses nicknames such as "Dumb Dora". Now if I could just get her to refrain from telling me who "doesn't have much longer and will be gone within in a year" as the person about whom she is speaking rolls by in their wheelchair.