But really, I think I would be fairly happy there. There's something very relaxing about spending the morning with people who are just glad to be with you and don't remember all the foolish things you said 5 minutes ago. In fact, you don't even have to struggle with small talk because it's just nice to be there listening to someone tell you that your son has a cherubic smile and lovely red socks. Liz and I are looking forward to our days together in a retirement home. We will do all the activities and conquer puzzles and cheat at bingo. Our husbands will be off in another wing, hatching an escape plan (we will blow the whistle on them).
At 10:30 someone came for a Musical Hour. He played guitar and sang songs I didn't recognize because they were mostly from the '40s. All these quiet voices were singing right along with him, smiling. Yes, the voices were smiling. Mrs. Crane did too, sitting next to us and admiring Studley's socks.
When Liz and I are in a home, what will the music person sing to us? Adam Ant? A medley from Purple Rain?
And from there I went to lunch and was actually able to help Sarah sort out her knitting. If my mother had an internet connection and remembered the url of my blog, she would be gasping and giggling at that thought. She is the knitter. I am the great pretender. I can make something as long as I follow the directions exactly. I cannot make things bigger or smaller or use different yarn than what is recommended. Everything I make must be made from worsted weight yarn.
However, I discovered that although there are several blogs out there which refer to wine and knitting, it is not always best to mix them. Because you might start knitting backwards.
It is possible she did it so I could be the clever one for a change. It is hard, you see, to have very clever and gifted friends. When you have clever and gifted friends you do things like offer to bring cupcakes - commit to bringing cupcakes - to a party and then remember that the host was at one time a professional baker and everything that comes out of her kitchen looks like it should be sprawled across the centerfold of a cooking magazine.
Things that come out of my kitchen just generally sprawl.
And in the Medical Emergency portion of today's entry, I stubbed my toe. I woke up very early this morning to a cacophony of clucking. Sure that the fox was back, I dashed downstairs in my pajamas, waving a flashlight. All was well, except I missed the bottom step. Here's what I since realized:
- Chickens cluck proudly when they are laying eggs
- Two of the chickens laid eggs last night
- If I ever hear them clucking in the wee hours of the morning again, I will either a) assume they are laying eggs, or b) throw poultry seasoning and some cranberries to the fox. My toe hurts.
Greasy Kid Stuff: Songs from Inside the Radio