Cathy in the Wright

Is That Why They Call It A Tipee Cup?

Another nursing home Tuesday. Hoocher was his usual charming self. He jumped up on the couch next to Mr. Swanson, stretched out, and fell asleep with his head in Mr. Swanson's lap. Had you paraded a bitch in heat below his nose, I don't think he would have moved.

We brought in a six pack of Sprite to Mrs. K. The nursing home snack cart offers a generic brand of clear soda she doesn't care for, and when I was at the store, I remembered her remarking on this, and threw the 6-pack in the cart. When I gave it to her, I thought she was going to cry. She offered to pay for it. I'm glad she liked the present. Made me mad as h*ll at her family though. Most of them live out of state, but jeez...if a six-pack of pop brightened her day...a letter or picture or email from one of her grandkids would probably send her through the roof.

Of course, some of this irritation could be my own guilt. I wasn't a very thoughtful granddaughter when my grandmother lived in a nursing home. So to assuage my conscience, I've adopted an entire platoon of surrogate grandparents. I hope someone picked up the ball for me too.

Well, off to bed. I was going to drink the last Sam Adams, but my friend, Dave, suggested I save it for The Governor and see if that doesn't put an end to these night-time crying fits. (The Gov wouldn't drink it out of his Tipee cup, but when I put a straw right in the bottle...voila!)

No. I didn't.

Was tempted though.

G'night.

Posted by Cathy at October 14, 2003 10:13 PM