Book me a room.

Hopefully I can remember to call the nursing home tomorrow and reserve a room for the not-to-distant future.  I know I am going to need it.  This is why.  I spent all morning gathering garden goodies and preparing them for a wonderful slowcooker spaghetti sauce.  I got everything ready, turned the slowcooker on, and rushed to my monthly Avoca lunch.  (We live in the Avoca district, and the women of the area formed a Red Cross group in 1941, which later became the Avoca Community Group.  It has lived on, and although we don’t really do any community service or fundraising anymore, we meet once a month for lunch and good visiting.  One of the gals found some old meeting minutes and brought them along today. Hence the little history lesson!)

After lunch, I ran around town doing numerous errands, and then went to work at the library.  The whole time I was thinking about what a tasty supper we would have.  My mouth even watered at times.  At about 3:30, Clem called and asked me if he should plug in the slowcooker.   (You just laughed out loud, didn’t you?  I know you did.  My own mother laughed out loud when I told her, so I’m sure you did, too.)

And that, my friends, is a just a small example of how my mind has been working these days.  It’s scary, I’m telling you.  My mom’s aunts all ended up sitting in nursing homes trying to remember their own names and hiding their own Easter eggs.  A couple of Mom’s sisters have been repeating themselves quite a bit and asking questions I’ve just answered.  It’s coming.  Like a dark storm cloud moving in.  There are little rays of sunshine sometimes, but I’m bracing for the impending disaster, folks. 

So I’d just like to ask you to please be patient and kind when you’re visiting me in the home.  You will visit, won’t you?  And try not to look too alarmed when I want to know who keeps putting their clothes in my closet!

Thanks for ….what did you do, again?