Sunrise Assisted Living SUCKS!!

The elevator here at Sunrise Assisted Living is broken again and, once again, they aren't going to bother to fix it for several days.
. They say they can't get the part. Bullshit. If this were a retail store, or an office building, or a school, or an apartment building, or, actually, just about anyplace other than a Sunrise Assisted Living, the elevator would be fixeed within hours. I can go out the back door and around the building, but I have to get them to open the door each time. Whoever HEARD of getting a building's only elevator fixed "in a few days"?? This is specially when a majority of the residents are in wheelchairs. AND I only get 2 showers a week here, and one of them is SUPPOSED TGO BE TONNIGHT!!! and the shower is on the second floor. THIS IS LIKE BEING IN JAIL!!

911

We had excitement last night! The fire alarm went off and didn't shut off. I turned off the TV and could hear people shouting in the hall. I just sat there (to be honest, just sitting there was the only action I was capable of taking!) and eventually the door flew open and firemen burst in... and there I sat in my little nightie... I'm probably preverted, but I sort of enjoyed it! My reaction was to look up and mildly say "hi", which cracked the firemen up big time... It turned out to be a false alarm which left us with a broken elevator. Wonder how long it will take this miserable place to fix it. I can get out the back door, but other people are held prisoner, and, if you remember, last time they took their time fixing it.

Dona

My cousin Dona called last night! That was a real freak-out! This is picture of a bunch of us grandkids on the steps of the home place in 1967. Dona is the third from the left in the plaid skirt. I haven't really spoken to Dona since we were teens. She says that they came and visited us back when we were in Harrisonburg and that we cousins drove away one night and partied in the car. I have no memory of this, which I guess means we had a good time! (Uncle Paul, if you reallY read this blog, please remember that was 35 years ago!)(Besides, Allen and Robbie weren't there!) (I guess... I don't really even remember being there myself!) Anyway, she's living in Kentucy about 30 minutes from her parents, and she's had 2 groups of kids. The older ones are all grown up and doing well, and the youngest is 12 and lives at home. She was involved in a construction accident and lost her leg and has had a hard life. But she sounds as happy and silly as ever!

Poem about marijuana

My youth was squandered in a cloud
Of happiness and peace,
I grew up, though, to join the world
Of heartbreak and disease.

Thank god I didn’t waste my life
In sweet euphoric bliss
When I was fully capable
Of feeling just like this,

For it was irresponsible
To be a wanton puffer
When I could just give all that up
To languish, mourn, and suffer.

Why should munchies be my fate?
When I could eat my fill
Of icky meats and yucky beets
And such assorted swill.

So I rely no longer on
A bong to make me happy,
And live through each day soberly
Despite the fact life’s crappy.

OMG

Odd situation has arisen... Absolutely no one has read or followed my blog since I began it (except maybe my psycho-therapist who wanted the address the instant she heard about it, but who probably read it once, figured out it was harmless, and quit).

Now, however, within the space of two days I've received requests for the blog address from a Lutheran pastor and from my uncle. Not that I've said anything incriminating or particularly controversial... (or even particularly interesting!) It just kind of puts a damper on my sense of freedom of expression. BUT, having always been fiercely non-conformist, I'm not goiong to let that happen. I think my next entry will be a poem extolling the virtues of marijuana. 'Cause I sure do wish I could get stoned right now!

Another volunteer day

I took Metro Access (the DC para transit system for people who have disabilities) to church this morning and folded bulletins. That was fine, because it needed to be done, and because it really got me thinking about David and belief and I knew that David would have wanted me to do it be cause he was so devoted to making sure that church succeeds (and Lord knows that what they need now is secretarial help!) (Actually, what they very much need is musical help. Let's just say that the music program ain't what it used to be! Which is really too bad, because the congregation really loved the stellar program!)

It was also fun because there were so many beautiful spring flowers and blooming trees on the way. For some reason, on the way back the driver took local Rt 7 rather than the highway, so I got to see lots of countryside. There was a very devout "church lady" there changing paraments, and there was a beautiful purple flowered tree right outside the window, and I was saying how sad it was that the flowers didn't last long, and she said she thought the fact that they died and came back the next year was God's way of reminding us of hope and Resurrection. I or couse, responded that I'd always thought that the fact that the flowers didn't last long was, instead, the reason God had invented cameras. She laughed, thank goodness!

Tumult

Everything here is sort of in a tumult tonight. There is a new resident in a wheelchair with some sort of complicated oxygen apparatus, and they’ve pushed her into the lobby and just left her alone there, and the receptionist isn’t staying with her or helping her, but is running around complaining to everyone she can find how that woman should not have been left alone. There are two medical professionals of some sort down on the Terrace level telling off some of the staff. They’ve rearranged the dining room tables so that they can shove more people in rather than provide another seating, which is what they desperately need to do. I saw one of the nice and sensible caretakers in the hall and said, “How are you?” and she said, “Horrible. “Everything is horrible.” Now I hear all the caretakers yelling at each other in the hall.

Spring Day

I had a wonderful time today. It was a lovely spring day, sunny & warm, & Mom ad I took Metro Access and went to the National Gallery, West Wing. The pictures are just stunning. It wasn't crowded or anything, so that was nice, too. Some of the pictires we saw were
This guy looks real impressive in the picture (Edouard Manet (artist)
French, 1832 - 1883 The Tragic Actor (Rouvière as Hamlet), 1866
oil on canvas), apparently he was not at all successful, and died even before the portrait was finished. The picture is fantastic, though.
I didn't particularly like this one, (Frédéric Bazille (artist)
French, 1841 - 1870 Young Woman with Peonies, 1870 oil on canvas) but it was one of Mom's favorites. This is one of my favorites.

Edouard Manet (artist)French, 1832 - 1883 Plum Brandy, c. 1877 oil on canvas It always has been. I think the woman reminds me of me.

Easter

It's a gray, gloomy unexciting day today - Hmmmm. If you are a first time reader, that is sure no way to entice you to read my blog. Let’s see how we can do better... No, there isn't really any way to do it better. Life is really that boring here. The highlight of the day was basically that they got me up on time. Which, actually, considering the alternative, is a fairly big deal.

They called from the church this morning and want to if I'll come Thursday and fold bulletins and cover the office because the secretary is off. I said I'd do it, of course, because it is something to do, but I do wonder about the professionalism of the secretary, taking time off the week before Holy Week. My dad, who is retired Methodist clergy, never would have allowed that. And I remember that once before David died she took the whole week off. David always worked incredibly hard on Holy Week. It was actually Holy Week that put him in the hospital that last time. He had Wednesday night major choir rehearsal, with Easter music with brass and timpani, and choir music for Thursday night and Friday, and extra services on Thursday and Friday night, and than Easter. He always did a really wonderful job because he was so thoroughly a professional and cared very deeply about every last detail of everything he did. He was always SO proud when Easter ended up successful. I miss him. And I’m so lucky that I got to know him.

Communication

The servers and caretakers here are from a wide variety of different countries and speak English as a second language. This creates some amusing moments when they communicate with seniors who are having difficulties of their own. Overheard at breakfast:

Miss Betty: (to server) I need my tea.

Server: OK, I will bring it.

Miss Betty: My tea. I need my tea. They didn’t bring them.

Server: I will bring.

(10 minutes later. Server brings tea.)

Server: Here is your tea, Miss Betty.

Miss Betty: Thank you.

(Server goes away)

5 minutes later.

Miss Betty: (to server) My tea. I need my tea.

Server: Miss Betty, I bring it. You drink it. See? Here cup!

Miss Betty: I need my tea. They didn’t bring them.

Server: I bring you! You drink! Here cup!

Miss Betty: MY TEEF! I CAN’T EAT WITHOUT THEM!

Server (realization dawning.) Oh. You teeth. I send Lupi to get.

therapy and road trip

So, the physical therapist has officially dropped me. She says the insurance won't cover any more sessions, but the truth is that she hasn't bothered to ask them to extend coverage. I think what I need to do is to go BACK to the doctor and get YET ANOTHER physical therapy prescription, and this time take it to Bodies in Motion It is right down the street, so, since the weather is good now, I can drive down on my scooter. I have been there before, and I really liked it. They have a nice variety of equipment (parallel bars, mat covered tables, bike pedal, etc.) that she doesn't have. Plus. I got a major crush on Ryan, my therapist. Wonder if one can request a specific therapist...?
Yesterday I went to church and folded bulletins. (No big deal, but it gave me something to do!) The Metro Access ride over was WONDERFUL! Instead of just going down the toll road like normal, he picked another person up and it ended up taking us through all these really wealthy areas where huge mansions of beautiful houses were sitting in the middle of HUGE lots. I felt like one of The Beverly Hilllies

Sunrise, Sunset

The service at this Sunrise has become unacceptably poor, especially for $6,500.00 month, which is what I pay them. 1) The elevator broke. Well. In a four story residential building filled with residents in wheel chairs, that is an emergency to be fixed in a matter of hours, but it took them 2 days because the elevator repair company the use didn’t have the right part. So you fire that company and hire one that has the equipment to do the job, right? Not here. That idea was anathema to them. They just waited and held people on the 2nd and 3rd floor prisoner.
2) THEN, right after they got the elevator fixed, I was watching TV at night and dropped the remote, and, in the course of recovering it, halfway fell out of my recliner. I keep my cell hanging in a bag around my neck for just such emergencies, so I called the main number. It rang 53 times and no one answered. Finally I yelled “Help! Help!” and a passing care manager heard me, and after informing me that she was supposed to be on her break, she got me back in my chair.

Well, the next day I emailed both incidents to the corporate office and got an immediate visit from Hilde Bonsteel, corporate director of operations, but I think all this really got me was a reputation as a complainer. For example, I like for the caretakers to get me up at about 7:15 AM. Today they didn’t show until 8:15, and that after 3 phone calls. I think it I time for me to stop complaining and walk (so to speak!), so I plan to begin heavy duty investigation of assisted living facilities. If you know of any good ones, please let me know!

weather, weather, weather

It’s SPRING! It has been 55-60 degrees all week!! Now, of course, I’m stuck inside because it’s raining. Oh well – you know what they say – “April showers bring May flowers!” And do you know what may flowers bring? PILGRIMS! (HA, HA, HA, HA!

Coffeehouse at the End of the Universe part II

The coffeehouse was last night was GREAT FUN. I really go to a "cool" church. Thanks, David. One guy sang fun ditties and played keyboard and 2 women sang for real, and this guy and his wife did a hysterically funny enactment of some poem called "The Creamation of... (someone - I forget who, but it was real funny), and the pastor read a subursive Ginsburg poem, and I read mine. It was just what I needed yesterday.

coffeehouse poem

As preface to my poem, titled “Shootout At the Latte Corral”, I want to read you an item that was recently in the news.

"Starbucks has become a battleground in a fight over whether gun owners should be allowed to openly wear unloaded handguns in public. The "Open Carry" movement advocates carrying weapons on holsters in plain sight. Starbucks says it would not ban licensed guns from its stores."

Shootout at the Latte Corral

Cyrus, he felt killin’ mad
When Joe cut him off that day.
You see, Cyrus meant to make a left.
Joe’s car got in his way.

Joe zipped in the parking lot
‘Fore Cyrus could react,
But Cyrus is a mean hombre.
He plans to get Joe back.

He’s long and lean and lanky, as
He climbs out of his truck.
There are gun racks in his window, and
Joe, plaintive, moans, “This sucks!”

On Cyrus’s hip a holster sits,
And in it rests a gun.
His hairy hand is hovering close,
And Joe’s completely stunned.

Like a mangy bovine ox
Cyrus lumbers to Joe’s door.
“Look, you jerk…,” then Cyrus says.
Joe doesn’t wait for more.

“Do not hurt me!” Joe cries out.
“Take this twenty! Take my keys!
Here are all my credit cards.
Won’t you take them? Won’t you please?”

Says Cyrus, “Lilly livered snake.
You’d best get out of town.
‘Cause I’m a mean gun slinger, and
I plan to shoot you down.

My pistol has four notches, and
I’d like to make it five.
My quick draw in a gun fight
Leaves very few alive.”

“This is silly,” Joe then says.
“We can’t count three and draw.
To carry guns is dangerous
And it is against the law!”

“Not in Virginia,’ Cyrus sneers,
“In Starbucks you’re well groomed
When you wear your legal firearm
Inside their dining room.

At High Noon I will meet you
At the Starbucks in the mall,”
Said Cyrus, as he strode away
His back bone straight and tall.

The hours passed quite quickly.
High noon soon rolled around.
Cyrus ordered lattee,
But Joe could not be found.

“Slimey polecat weasel”
Said Cyrus with a grin.
“Guess I’ll polish up my weapons
And I’ll see who else comes in.”

So, friends, it seems it might be wise
To drink your brew at home,
Or make yourself a coffee shop,
Like yours, that’s all your own!

Coffeehouse at the End of the Universe

The people at my church are having a coffeehouse called "Coffeehouse at the End of the Universe" on Friday night. The idea is based on the old beatnik coffeehouses of the 50's, and basically it is just a chance for people to get together and hang out and play their musical insturments and stuff. I said I'd write and read some beatnik poetry. Guess I'd better get on it! This is what I sent to the emcee when he asked us to send some biographical information:

I’ve written nonsense verse all my life. Actually, published verse framed my public school career. In first grade, I wrote the verse “My Family” which was published in some children’s magazine. As a high school senior, I wrote the satirical “The Ballad of Poor Harley Miles”, Harley Miles being the assistant principal, which was published in my high school newspaper. What I have to say about this dubious talent is:

Some folks may earn money when
They’ve got some extra time.
They build financial fortunes from
Their nickels and their dimes.

Some folks may write symphonies
With melodies sublime.
I would love to do those things,
But can’t, so I just rhyme.