Never Judge a Book by Its Cover

Another example that illustrates the title of my blog

what lies beneath could bear an element of surprise

Beneath the Wraps

We Love Andrew Clements

Fortunately for me (at least in this point in time), Jenna likes to experiment with things that she’s watched or read. The latest comes from a book “No Talking" by Andrew Clements.  A boy, interested in Ghandi, decides to experiment with no talking.  His experiment eventually turns into a contest between the fifth grade girls and boys – which group can go the longest without talking for two whole days?

This sounded quite probable to Jenna – who not only talks quite a bit but does it rather LOUDLY despite everyone’s efforts to get her to tone it down.  I have told her countless times that it really is possible to be excited without being loud.  I don’t necessarily want her to stop talking, but it would be nice to have volume control.

So (as we are reading this book) I look at her and say, “I bet you wouldn’t even make it for twelve hours without talking.”  She has taken me up on my offer.  Her first attempt was on Labor Day.  She did 3 and a half hours without saying more than 20 words. Her attempt the following Saturday was even more pathetic.

          I introduced Jenna to Andrew Clements just this year.  I like his stories for the most part.  I read one called “Extra Credit” about letter correspondence between a sixth grade girl from the United States and a fifth grade boy (via his younger sister) from Afghanistan.  Of course with that, Jenna wants the opportunity to have a foreign pen pal.  Now there’s a dying art – correspondence through the post office and not just email or facebook.

          We checked out some books on CD for her to listen to while she’s supposed to be sleeping.  So far she likes Andrew Clements books the best.

          Last night we went over the sign language alphabet. This morning she has decided to experiment with “No Talking” once again.  Just in case she should actually make it into the school without having said a word (though I did say that Spanish is permitted) I sent a warning to each of her teachers should they call on her.  I think it will be quite awesome if she actually does make it for more than four hours.  (Though our initial bet was twelve)

“Go Ahead . . . I’m Napkin Man”

My brother Corey has many talents.  One he started early on was with drawing comics.  He would entertain himself for hours on end drawing his comics and then reading them. 

          One year he received a giant drawing pad and a green ballpoint pen for Christmas.  He had filled the pad in less than two days.  By day three, the pen was out of ink. 

          One of his comic series I think was similar to “Spy Vs. Spy” - which eventually turned into a game between him and my brother Patrick, though it did not last long.

          Patrick read one of Corey’s comic strips and imitated his style as he added to it and killed off the characters in different ways and Corey would always resurrect them.  Some of the deaths were challenging to overcome, but I think it was fun for both of them for a while.

          The funniest comic that I remember happened after my dad had had a series of strokes.  I don’t even know where we were – perhaps on our way to the airport to see Corey off or maybe when we had stopped off for lunch on our way to the MTC.

          I don’t know what made Corey feel the need to draw during that time, but he had drawn a caped superhero on a napkin with the caption: “Go ahead.  Blow your nose in me.  I can handle it.  I’m napkin man” and then gave his drawing to my dad who obviously needed a napkin.

          I don’t remember if my dad laughed about it or not.  I think so.  I laughed.  I thought it was funny.  I still smile when I think about this unique memory.

Inside Jokes and Saturday Morning Cartoons

          When Roland has been out of town (which really has not been too often) I will allow Jenna to sleep in my bed. 

          At 6:00 last night she went toward her room and announced that she’d be going to bed – which I really didn’t believe until I saw her in her pajamas.  She had returned to ask if she could watch something in my room.  She really was tired – I could see that the second time.  I knew she wouldn’t finish seeing whatever video she chose. 

          She loves the reality show “What WouldYou Do?”  which doesn’t start until 8:00.  By that time I decided I would go into my room as well.  I turned off the DVD player and turned the TV to ABC and got in bed.  Jenna was asleep. 

          Then comes the advertisement for “What Would You Do?” and Jenna comes to life.  She’s not the only one who’s tired – and actually has more focus during the show and I am the one nodding off. 

          An advertisement came on for a hamburger – I don’t recall which fast food place it is for but the logo says, “It’s not as expensive as you think” – although I’m guessing we heard it wrong.

          I actually had not paid attention to the commercial, but guessed that maybe that’s how it was phrased when Jenna turned to me and asked, “Why would they advertise something is more expensive than you think?”

          It struck me funny – and I continued laughing as I would imitate, “you may think you can afford this – but it’s more expensive than you think.”

          I tried to control my laughter – but kept on going out of tiredness more than anything.  Jenna became offended with my taunting and making fun of her error.  To make her feel better, I shared one of my own.

          “Have you seen those lights that blink – they are usually located far above the ground to warn planes that they are flying too low?  If the pilot can see the light, he knows he has to make the plane go higher.

          “Well, one time I was asking about one that I saw, but I said the wrong thing.  I asked if it was a warning for planes that were flying too high.

          “Of course Patrick and his friend couldn’t let that slide and so they teased me about it. ‘Yes, it is a warning for pilots who might be flying into the sun.’  ‘Watch out for the sun!’ It was a long while before they stopped teasing me about it”

          And so the joke that Jenna and I now share between us is that she will say, “Look out! You’re going to hit the sun.”  And I will come back with, “It’s more expensive than you think.”

          This morning she starts in with our new inside joke.  I am still tired.  And so I turn on the TV.  The cartoon selection is quite different on Saturday than it is before she leaves for school.  A wide selection of preschool programs.  The ones shared by the main networks have not started yet.  That leaves some kind of Sci-Fi and a Biblical story.  I select the one from the BYU channel.

          As she is watching the story of Joseph, she interrupts my sleep again, “Mom, is this the same story as “Little Joe” from “Veggie Tales” 

          “Yes”

          “They don’t have French accents though”

          “Jenna.  This version is more accurate than Veggie Tales.  Please let me sleep.”

          Joseph ends.  She’s not interested in the workout video that follows.  I hand her the remote. 

          She settles on a pre-school program that is broadcast in Spanish – and then translates it for me.  I’m grateful that she has learned new language skills and that she is actually grateful (for a change) to be learning Spanish – and actually has been excited about it!  I am so happy to hear that!

Our First Morning Walk in the Crisp Air

          Other than the political campaigns that take place every year, Fall is, without a doubt, my most favorite season.  I haven’t walked Highness in the morning for over four months now. 

          Unless I’m willing to get up between four and five a.m. it has just been too hot to walk him.  Okay, it wasn’t too hot to take him at 6:00 last month – and I was up.  But I was up with Roland and getting ready to wake Jenna.  Highness was just not a high priority for me.

          I don’t enjoy walking him in my own neighborhood all that much.  For one thing, there just isn’t much in the way of sidewalks – and I’m just not that comfortable walking in the street.  Plus my neighborhood is actually kind of boring.  There’re a few friendly people, but for the most part it doesn’t seem like a very warm environment to be in.  Sometimes I feel like I could pass out in the middle of the street and the only people who would notice would just drive around me and roll their eyes or shake their fists or swear because of the inconvenience.

          I like walking the dog around my daughter’s school.  Several neighborhoods and two parks surround Vantana Elementary.  It’s quite inviting and the people are pleasant.  And there are sidewalks.  The only time we have to be on the road is if we choose to cross it.

          But with the other things going on in my life right now – mainly the hours that seem to be increasing with my mother – walking Highness has been put on the back burner.  Often we’ll go out night between 6:30 and 7:00 – but it is never a long walk.  Poor Highness.

          This morning I had to use the defroster in the car (less than two hours later I was back to the A/C)

          I wore a sweatshirt and wore my hair down.  Before I got home I could feel my heavy hair weighing down on my neck.  Time to tie it back.

          Roland ALWAYS has his covers on.  And I usually don’t have any.  I slept on his side of the bed last night and discovered it really is a lot cooler on his side.  Weird.  It’s not like we have a super king size bed that stretches the whole length of an enormous room.  But there does seem to a difference in temperature. 

          Of course he is closer to the window and the vent (I absolutely DIE when the vent is on) and we still have our A/Cs up – doesn’t get used near as much as they did during the summer.  But there are some days when it still remains on 2-5 hours.  Would be more economical if we could just open the windows or the doors.  Unfortunately the only screen that protects us from the animals (namely insects) that may want to wander in, is in the bathroom just off of Roland’s and my room.  This house could really stand a new makeover.

          Anyway, the walk was certainly a good one.  Both Highness and I found the view and the air refreshing.  I think he actually enjoyed it more than I did – and could have gone for a lot longer.  But I do have other things that needed my attention.  

Staying on the Same Page

          Communication is SO important – whether it is the working place, or homes, our churches, our communities . . . and it’s important that we all stay on the same page.  We need consistency. 

          I recall one work place that made egg salad sandwiches.  Some of the workers would put pickles into the mixture, while others refused because they thought it was gross.  I don’t care if the egg salad has pickles or not.  When I am in a working environment I would expect to make the egg salad according to what the customer orders from the menu and expects – not to my own personal preference.  I think when a customer expects a certain product, he or she should receive the same product or courtesy or satisfaction that kept him or her coming back to begin with.

          I know different cooks have their own personalities and styles.  I am a wimp when it comes to anything remotely spicy – and so I have learned (well – back when I was single and had money) to ask which chef is in the kitchen before I place my order for there was one who would use every spice in the kitchen I believe and lots of it, while the other probably was not a favorite among those who really do enjoy authentic Mexican food.  It needs to be consistent.  The recipe must be followed exactly the same in my opinion.

          Food is just a very small issue of what needs to be communicated.  I hate being told one thing by one employee or parent or teacher or representative or what have you and being told something completely different by somebody else.  Opinions are often brought in by individuals who pass on their opinions that others accept as gospel truth – even when it’s not.

          I recall failing a class that I had tried to transfer into.  I was livid when I received a failing grade.  Why couldn’t have anybody said anything to me before hand?  I was on the roles already.  On the school record – but they failed to give it to me on the schedule that was handed out.  You think the teacher would have recognized the name from her rolls when I tried to transfer in.  It did not fly well.  I don’t recall there being any problems in my scheduling after that incident.

          I do have a have a similar situation story to share – only it didn’t happen to me personally.  Just someone I knew. It took place in the MTC (missionary training center) nearly 30 years ago (though I’m sure the same still occurs even now – perhaps not weekly, but maybe once in a while) I’m not including his first name in the story, but the last name is real.

          Elder Lovett had arrived on September 6 because that’s what it said on his papers – only those receiving the missionaries that day were actually not expecting Elder Lovett until the following week.  Fortunately he had his letter and showed them that it was indeed the date he’d been assigned to report.  But because there was an error in communication on whatever part, Elder Lovett hadn’t been assigned a companion (partner) or room or books or what have you.

          Six elders had been assigned to our district.  Four had been assigned to one room designed for four people.  The other two elders were also in a room designed for four – but one side remained empty.  So Elder Lovett was assigned to partner up with the latter two.  Six Elders would be serving in Fresno, California.  Elder Lovett was assigned to West Virginia.

          He shared these events with us during our third class (I think) when once more the instructor would say: “Turn to page H5” (for example) and all of us would turn to the assigned page – including Elder Lovett – but he would never be able to follow along.  I think it must have been during that third class the instructor suggested a page that just didn’t exist among the pages that Elder Lovett’s had in his possession.

          “It’s just my book.  They must have gone to the warehouse and retrieved this off some old dusty shelf.  This is out of date.”  I know for a fact that we have been asked to discard old material as it is updated.  Apparently the books that Elder Lovett had been given weren’t as discarded as they should have been.

          Perhaps his situation prepared him to be a stronger leader.  He definitely understood the importance of communication.  Elder Lovett had his first opportunity as district leader serving with us in the MTC.  He was great – throughout his entire mission I would imagine.  I actually never saw him or heard from him again after leaving the MTC. 

          There is the miscommunication between family members.  Just before Tony got married, I had called Roland’s family to inform them about when the event was scheduled to take place and what might be involved for those waiting outside the temple. 

          I was experiencing problems with my cell phone and had made some remark about my frustration.  Unbeknownst to me, the family had me on speaker phone – and whatever snide remark I made (in regards to my cell phone) somehow was interpreted to mean that I did not want them (mom in particular) to come . . . and whatever it was that I said got blown out of proportion as family members related the events to other family members until I realized that Roland’s brother was slamming him on facebook; his brother was not even a part of the initial family I was calling. 

I noticed one of Roland’s sisters had also been misinformed about the events that would take place when their oldest sister died.  Why not just listen and repeat before we jump the gun on something that was just not communicated correctly?

         

I am grateful to those who do take the time to at least try.  However their attempts to assist are not always profitable when the communication among the employees to employees are even worse than employee to customer. (as I have mentioned in this earlier post) 

Roland is great at having people and communication skills – problem is not all of those he attempts to communicate with possess the same talent.  And that is sad. It’s sad that so many have become and accept ignorance.  Ignorance is NOT professional.

And machines that talk to you instead of a human being?  Oh, don’t even get me started.  Talk about impersonal – and yet it seems that so many business have picked up on it and wreak havoc on the consumer’s life even more. 

Bless the company that gives you a live human being to begin with. Especially when that human is able to communiacate!

Those dreaded Orange barrels

          Jenna’s favorite color used to be pink.  But now she says that it’s orange.  I like orange sunset and flowers such as poppies and marigolds.  I suppose when it’s from Mother Nature’s paint brush. Then it appeals to me – but I don’t care for orange clothing and I get irked by orange barrels, polycones and flashing barricades & signs because it’s a message implying delayed traffic, construction ahead and so forth.

          It’s not so bad when it doesn’t become a permanent part of the road – but day after day, month after month, even year after year in the same spot – which is usually the case.

          Both my mom and I live off main and always busy streets.  The street near where she lives has been under construction for at least eight months to two years and doesn’t appear that it will be finished any time soon.  Christmas time was the worst.  Hello – like turning onto (or even off) that street isn’t challenging enough.  Let’s add some cones and barrels to the scene and really give the public a run for its money.  What a madhouse (mad street?)

          When I recently turned off my neighborhood street onto the main road I saw orange barrels were set up blocking the lane I normally turn into.  “NO!” I thought.  No.  I am elated to say that they had moved by the time I returned less than three hours later (insert smile face)

          For the most part I take as many back roads as possible getting to my destination.  And when I would go visit my mom, I had a back road route so that I only had to cross the street under construction.  But my back way has gotten worse than the street I am trying to avoid.  And so I have taken alternate routes – alternate out of my way routes.  I understand the necessity of construction.  At the same time I am so annoyed by it.

          And then there’s the route to my daughter’s school.  For three years now – the same exact area is lined with orange barrels from August – September.  Really.  I don’t understand.  I suppose I’ll have to take a different route for two months. *sigh* 

          I do notice overall that the city seems to move a lot faster than the county.  Not always.  Summer is near its end (here’s hoping anyway) and more polycones and orange barrels have seemed to pop up here and there.  Why?  It is always a challenge to find a road without construction.  But what a great reward it is when it is found.

Who Are You? and Can You Stay?

          Dementia is a thief which robs the mind and interferes with the souls of all associated.  Last week mom was living in another world for the most part.  This weekend hit hard.  The way it’s been described to me, it sounds like she lost was between worlds – panicked at not being able to communicate.  Just not getting a grasp on anything.  Being transported to another dimension is bad enough – the “between worlds” thing is worse overall – at least from my viewpoint.

          Probably all of us, at some point in our lives, have seen the child that just isn’t understanding direction and becomes more and more frustrated with himself or the instructor or the other kids or what have you.  He throws a tantrum and won’t allow himself to be rational.  And the harder we try to explain or understand, the more irrational the child becomes. That is what the “between worlds” is like.

          Even before the Dementia set in, mom seemed to favor Corey over the rest of us – not that she meant to (or means to) but it just seems that way.  And now with the dementia, it seems much of her world revolves around Corey who is able to get her to do things (even over the phone from another state) than the rest of us have.  But evidently I became the favored one on Saturday.  She was in a very confused place and couldn’t seem to get out of it.

          Sunny had dropped off a small bag of items that she wanted me to have.  The idea was for me to retrieve it from mom’s house on my next visit.  But mom had it in her head that the bag needed to be in my possession RIGHT NOW.

          When she couldn’t get a hold of me by phone, she decided that she would walk to my house.  One does not walk to my house from hers – not unless one wants to make a day of it.  (I's about 20 minutes by car in regular traffic) She’s been to my house twice – but always with somebody.  She didn’t know where I lived before dementia robbed her of her memory.  She doesn’t even recognize the city name when I tell her.

          But for convenience, her mind has moved many into her neighborhood – often just up or down the street.  As she left the house, my nephew-in-law followed to make certain she didn’t get lost.  I don’t know if she ever found where she thought my house was.  I’m thinking not.

          Nate and Ellen had a dinner appointment with my youngest son and his wife – but because of “grandma’s” strange behavior, they didn’t want to leave her alone.  And so Ellen called Sunny and told her about “grandma’s” strange behavior and how she was a bit concerned and freaked out at the idea of leaving her alone.  And so Sunny and her two youngest stayed with mom while Ellen and Nate went to dinner.  Sunny said my mom talked about me and my visits and was very anxious about seeing me again but couldn’t get a hold of me (mom had finally gotten a hold of me before Nate and Ellen had gone to dinner; we had talked for a few minutes)

          Her mind was still quite distorted the next night when she called again.  She misdialed and had meant to call Corey, whom she thought was having car problems and was quite worried about him.  I knew she was frantic and too far away to calm her down. 

          I called Corey to ask if mom was worrying for nothing.  He said he was on his way home and would be to mom’s in about ten minutes.  I called her back.  She was so relieved – like the child who has been missing her tangible security (a blanket, a toy) but finally gets it back.  I still wish I could have embraced her in person and not just over the phone.

          The thief took a vacation only a few days this week – I had hoped for something more permanent, but knew that is all it was.  A HOPE.  And I don’t know what makes her personality change from visit to visit – the distorted mind last week, the turmoil and frustration set in her own mind this weekend, and the still forgetful but almost normal yesterday and the day before.  Even this afternoon over the phone – but not in person.  The theif returned.  Dementia hasn’t robbed only her – it’s taken from all of us.  I want dementia behind bars PERMENANTLY!

Our cracker box of a house

          I’m really not a kitchen person.  That would be my husband’s domain.  I thought I’d be happy with just a hot plate. I’m actually loathing our kitchen which consumes of more than just a hot plate.

          First of all it was designed for tall thin people – neither of which I am – though I was thin at one time.  I obviously blew out – but was never up.

When we first moved in I figured I could put the food away or I could put dishes away – but there is no way I could reach both areas.  As I seem to be the only one in the household who is capable of doing dishes, I chose to fill my reaching area with dishes.

          I used to refer to it as a trailer kitchen – though I have been in much roomier trailer kitchens since we moved in.  My husband called it a Galley – though I believe there is more elbow room in your average galley.  I kid you not – if there is more than one person (not to mention the dog) in the kitchen, we are literally in each other’s way – unless of course one is cooking and the other is doing dishes.  If the fridge is opened, someone is in the way. 

          Now the person who designed the kitchen must have decided that eating and preparing were done at the same time – while standing.  I don’t know where homeowners were expected to sit – seriously.  There is no dining room to speak of.  So we have a table right next to the sliding door and across from the pantry (realistically a closet with two shelves). 

My husband loves to have company over.  So if anyone is sitting at the table and someone needs to exit the kitchen – the chairs are in the way.  I have seriously gone out the sliding door and gone around through the front door (but only if the front room is my destination) just to avoid inconveniencing everyone else – yet someone is always inconvenienced.  Trying to get to the bathroom is an entirely different story. Our house was not designed for company.  It was barely designed to live in – although the bedrooms are actually really nice sizes.

Beside our stove are the washer and the dryer.  Another piece of work.  Trying to do laundry.  Can’t sort it in the kitchen.  Can’t open the back door fully because the dryer is in the way.  I really want to hook the washer and dryer up on the opposite side of the wall – which is on the outside currently.  How great it would be to make a room outside.  I don’t even care if it’s insulated or not at this point.  Make a laundry room and eventually use a separate wall to move the table to.  We’ll have to lose the sliding door.  Oh, well. 

          Oh, that’s another area where a lot of thought was given – whoever installed the sliding door.  I’ve been in houses where the sliding door wouldn’t lock and a broomstick was inserted between the slide and the wall to prevent the door from sliding.  Not in our house.  The lip where you would put the broom handle is actually on the outside of the house.  Good job!

          We do have two bathrooms.  Now that’s a plus.  Well – one bathroom with bath included and one with just a sink and toilet.  But still – we didn’t have two toilets in our much larger house and we really needed a second one.  Our one bathroom was larger though – probably both of our current bathrooms combined.  But the tub over here is a little bit larger than the turkey pan sized tub that we had at our first house.   

          We do have a problem with the water pressure however.  Sometimes we have to flush and plunge at the same time.  Or we have to take the porcelain top off the tank and push the plug down.  Oh, the joys of using the bathroom.

          Then there’s the heat.  The furnace seems to want to heat up the living room – and as there is no ventilation, the bedroom gets hot.  Very HOT.  Or we can leave the fireplace running (it’s electric) and warm the front room and the furnace thinks since that room is warm that the whole house must be.  And then our room stays cold.  I would rather have it cold than hot.

 

          I suppose I shouldn’t complain as we’ve had several homeless people wandering the streets with their shopping carts (especially on garbage day).  Too many people are down on their luck.  For how much longer?

          I’ve seen houses offering a lot less than what we have for a much larger price.  We actually have quite a good deal as far as rent/mortgage is concerned.  So I know we are blessed.  Sometimes I have a tendency to overlook that.

          I look forward to the day when we can afford a luxurious bathroom with a human sized tub and Richard can have his luxurious kitchen.  That would be great!  When no one is down on his luck and that everyone can have his own place. Right now I am trying to be more gracious about what we’ve got.

Losing My Mom to Dementia

          I go to my mom’s twice a week to make sure she is eating lunch and learning that she doesn’t always have breakfast.  I didn’t know how we would introduce her to the idea of taking in a stranger (a companion who would help us watch her) but perhaps the idea may appeal to her if we introduce her as permanent company – so that mom won’t be so bored. 

          Corey is on vacation this week.  My niece leaves the house at six.  I am not certain of her husband’s hours – but do know that he’s not always there – which is understandable.  Ellen and Nate are a newlywed couple and shouldn’t even have to face this dementia challenge while starting out their life together.  But mom had invited them to stay.  And so even though mom has people living with her, she is still often left alone – and actually does get lonely.

          Four to six months ago she didn’t seem to have a problem with it.  Said she preferred it.  Liked being able to spread her wings without her children’s interference.  Now, for the most part, at least into my ears, she has admitted being bored.  To cure that boredom, she often goes shopping – which is fine if somebody drives her – but she is not always coherent enough to even remember where she’s going or how far it may be.

          This Tuesday I was late getting to her house – which wouldn’t have been that big of a deal if Corey had been home.  Actually – mom’s car was there when I arrived, and since she can’t drive it herself, she has allowed Nate to take it.  So he was there.  But he was in the basement.  She thought she was by herself. 

          I had called to tell her I’d be late.  And she waited for me.  I had some errands to run and took her with me.  She was really disoriented.  She hadn’t eaten.  We ate lunch at 12:30.  And we went for a drive.

          She had no idea where we were and kept on asking, “Now where are we going?”  I could have said Mars and she would have continued to ask me.

          She did enjoy the ride for the most part – but my car does seem to make dysfunctional noises – especially when going over a bump or pothole in the road.

          “What was that?” she asked me.

         

          “My car was in an accident a while back, and ever since it has made that noise.  Kind of sounds like I have a body in the trunk,” I joked.

          Great.  The one thing that she remembers.  Every time it made that noise she would ask, “Do you really have a body in the trunk?  Sounds like that body is still back there . . .”

          I had to stop off at the bank.  She had wandered off – Not only did she not know the area, I was afraid she wouldn’t remember how she got there that she was with me.

          After we returned to her house, she opened her mail.  There was an ad from Shopko (a variety store) and she decided that she must go to see what clothes were available. 

          Shopko is not far from her house – and she has walked there.  She has also come out of Shopko and left in a direction that does not lead her home. 

          I HATE leaving her alone.  And because of her comment about Shopko, I pointed to my own blouse and said, “I got this at Wal-Mart.  You have looked at the clothes at Shopko.  I’m pretty sure it will be the same selection as they had last week.  Why don’t I take you to the Wal-Mart near Jenna’s school, and we will just pick her up before I bring you home?”

          In the event that Nate returned while we were gone, I left a note that mom was with me.  She looked with interest at some things and disapproval at others.  She ended up with two blouses – which I don’t think she needs.  But at least I could watch her.

          Picked Jenna up and she was so excited to see her grandma.  And that made my mom feel good – for that moment.  I drove mom home.  She was exhausted and I figured she was too tired to leave the house again.

          On Thursday I arrived early.  She was at the house by herself.  She hadn’t eaten yet and so we had a fast food breakfast.  I should have taken her to a senior day care – she was dead set against the idea four to six months ago.  Perhaps she’d be more receptive to the idea now.

         There have been times when she's asked my two year old niece to go walking with her.  Oh, there's a scary combination.  We've learned to hide Anna's shoes so that we can say to mom that we can't find her shoes and she can't possibly take a walk without them.

          She said she wanted to go for a walk the other day..  I thought she meant around the neighborhood.  She decided that we would go to Sam’s Club.  The road is under construction.  I tried to discourage her from going – but she was determined.  I said the sidewalk was closed.  She said she was aware that the sidewalk was closed and that we could walk in the right lane of the road because “that is what it’s for”

          My eyes bulged as I tried to dissuade her, but struggled on nonetheless so that she wouldn’t be alone.  As we got closer to the store, she asked why we were going to Sam’s Club.  I told her that we were having a walk and that we should have just stayed in her neighborhood.

          “Well, let’s just look around while we are here.”

          As we approached the doors, she found amusement in watching two seniors pointing here and there and asking each other where they had parked.

          “They don’t even know where they parked,” she said.

          I found it ironic that she was seeing humor in a situation that has been part of her life even before the dementia.

          She said she didn’t need a cart.

         

          “That is good,” I said.  “Because whatever you get has to be carried home.”

          “Why?” she asked.  “We drove here.”

          “No.  We did not drive here.  We walked.  And I’m not even wearing decent shoes to walk in.”

          “We walked?”

          We’re not even in the front door yet. 

          At least she felt warn out again.  We both took naps.  I wasn’t happy about leaving her.  But I have to be home when Jenna returns.  And I need to start dinner for Roland. 

          We need to find a trustworthy companion.  Someone who is willing to watch out for her in exchange for room and board and meals.  And if she drives, she’ll have thirty or so restaurants to choose from.  Mom does enjoy going out for lunch. 

I Gave Birth to Anne of Green Gables

          I have given my daughter the nickname Anne Shirley. Jenna does not have red hair, but she does have an overactive imagination and is very theatrical.

          The first homework assignment she brought home for her English class was a list of simple sentences to be rewritten with added reasons.  For example:

The girl cried.  Rewritten: The girl cried because . . . .  Her average classmate may have written:  The girl cried because she was sad.  The girl cried because she couldn’t go outside.  The girl cried because her ice cream was gone.

          But leave it to my Jenna to go on and on with more words than just one sentence.  The girl cried because she couldn’t complete her surprise project because she had run out of red ink before she could finish the fairy-angel’s wings and so she would never be able to give her gift to her mom.

She really does talk that way.  When we remind her to clean up after herself, she is all over the place – “Oh, why do I always have to do everything?  I know you’re just gonna say ‘you have to clean up the front room because most of it is your stuff.’ But not all of it is. It’s not fair.” 

         

Actually I don’t know if the punctuation is accurate as she tends to rattle on without pausing.  A period (.) I guess would indicate a pause.  For the most part she is hard to understand – especially if she is producing tears.

I know where she gets it from.  My mom used to call me Sarah Bernhardt–  whoever that is (or was) and I was perhaps just as thrilled to be called Sarah Bernhardt as Jenna is at being called Anne Shirley.

The difference is that Sarah Bernhardt was an actual person, an actress.  Anne Shirley was invented by Lucy Maud Montgomery (though there was an Anne Shirley, an actress who portrayed Anne of Green Gables in 1934) 

The book has been dramatized on television and in the theatres since 1919 and the character has been played by various actresses including Mary Miles Minter, Toby Tarnow, and Megan Fellows (pictured at the beginning of this post) and has been enjoyed by readers for over a century.

The Amazing Ever-Hair-Style-Changing Hair Band

        Many of us have sat through primary programs that have had participants who would never make it to poster child for illustrating reverence.  Sometimes we laugh at the misfortunes; some roll their eyes and come up with all the answers for how to discipline.  Some parents take it with a grain of salt.  Some are mortified and embarrassed. 

I don’t remember Jenna being so ill mannered in our last ward, but she was making faces during the program last year. This year she displayed her fidgety fingers as she bit her nails (while waiting in line at the pulpit) and fussed over her hair band and seemed to create a different hairstyle with each adjustment. 

The hair band fell off her head as they stood up to perform one of the songs.  She did sing, but frantically looked all around to see where it had gone.  Jenna’s among the tallest girl – if not the tallest – which made it more obvious.

Still not as bad as my brother’s ward – which had a HUGE primary when Kimball and Ellen were four and six.  I don’t know whose brilliant idea it was to put the six four year olds on table tops.  Kimball was quite reverent, but the two next to him were kicking one another and pulling hair (as I recall) elbowing, fist fighting.  

That was my view.  Those three four year olds sitting on the same side as I was.  Most everybody who was on my side saw those two four year olds fighting and missed most of the program.  I actually think that was more irreverent than Jenna’s amazing hair-style-changing head band.

Four more years and Jenna will be in young women’s. Perhaps by then she will learn to keep still.