A Good Start To a New Year

My brother came back from the store on the morning of New Year's Eve with a couple of treats: a pound of shrimp and three lobster tails. So New Year's Eve dinner consisted of shrimp in linguine, a large mixed salad, and broiled lobster in drawn butter. (Despite this generation living all over the country, we've been New Englanders for the last 390+ years. Doing anything else with lobster is just gilding the lily.) And a 2010 Argentine Malbec. Sure it's a red but it was very fruity and went quite well with the seafood.

There were a couple of minor issues. Mom didn't notice that the shrimp had not been shelled and popped a whole one in her mouth legs and all. My brother made her spit it out and we took a minute to make them edible for her (and insisted she use her fork). She claimed she could get the meat from the lobster tail herself but couldn't with her fork and we, again, had to stop her from pulling it out with her teeth. We warned her she could cut her lips on the shell but she didn't seem to mind the risk.

Once we had the rest of her meal prepped and safe to eat, she lifted her glass and called out "Happy New Year!"

Our goal is to get her to the next one, but at least her attitude is in the right place.

A Christmas Visit

My Other Brother and his kids (two nephews (both adult, both active Navy), one niece (pre-teen)) came down to visit for a couple of days. We had a belated Christmas present opening session, watched "Mr. Popper's Penguins" (a gift from the niece), played a round of mini-golf (Other Brother beat me by one stroke) and ordered in Chinese for dinner.

Mom was thrilled to have the company and the attention, although she did have to ask people to identify themselves every now and then.

They're all gone again now and the energy level in the house is slowly subsiding back to normal.

Glimpses Into the Future

Mom has become aware of Facebook.

With her Alzheimer's induced OCD tendencies, she reads advertisements in the newspaper down to the finest of fine print. She reads every word. She doesn't necessarily understand what she reads, but she reads it. Every. Word.

So, lately, she's noticed references to "Follow Us On Facebook" on everything from hype by the local mega-deal car sales lot to coupons for dish detergent, to the local pool cleaner. She doesn't get detail from TV ads (images go by too fast for her) so I'm not sure if she's noticed any references there, yet. And I doubt she'd recognize the  logo.

I've explained the general concept to her, and the fact that it's huge, and that I and my Other Brother and his two eldest kids and his ex- plus a whole bunch of other people she used to know (although not of her generation) are on it, and she sort-of gets it.

She gets it enough to wonder how it makes any money if they don't charge for using it. So that's something.

So far, at least, she hasn't noticed the Twitter logos. I'd hate trying to explain the concept behind that.

Living in the Moment, Extreme Edition

We had a Merry Christmas.

It being Sunday, I fixed French toast for Mom and myself. We then waited until my brother arose (normally not before noon because of his work but this time because he was up late wrapping presents) before opening the gifts.

Mom was confused over who gave what to whom and who received what from whom. Since she does not go out shopping any more, her gifts to us were bought by us (me for my brother, him for me) with her money. It's not easy trying to explain on-line shopping and express shipping to an Alzheimer's afflicted 91+ year-old. She kept insisting there were three small presents still to give and rearranging three sheets of writing paper on her table until my brother got out her checkbook and let her sign three $20 checks to each of her sons (my brother, myself and the middle one who will be down to visit this week with his kids). Then she was happy.

For dinner that evening, we had a delicious medium rare standing rib roast with Yorkshire pudding, garlic laced mashed potatoes, pickled mushrooms and summer squash sauteed with onions and grape tomatoes. And a bottle of 16-year-old Merlot found in the back of the cupboard (surprisingly still good despite the cork breaking when I attempted to open it). We topped it all off with apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

Mom's ice cream was melting while she ate the pie so I reminded her that the point was to eat them together which she did. When she was done we asked her if she wanted more and she said, "Just some ice cream," so I brought her seconds. When that was gone we asked if she'd had enough now to which she replied "Oh, yes! A prodigious plenty!"

We laughed. "Well, no wonder," my brother said. "You had two desserts!"

"No! When did that happen?"

"Just now. You had pie and ice cream and then more ice cream."

"What pie? I didn't have any pie. You boys are pulling my ear!"

We described in loving detail how we had offered her apple pie for dessert, which she accepted, and then the option of either whipped cream or ice cream (ice cream), and then the overkill of whipped cream on her ice cream on her pie (declined). She remained incredulous.

In the time it took to eat the second helping of ice cream, she had forgotten the first completely.

Mom-Sequiturs: "Dammit, Jim, I'm a Doctor Not a Stripper!"

I took Mom to one of her eye doctors this morning.

As usual, on the trip in, Mom turned to me and asked, "Which doctor are we going to today?"

I had told her once already before leaving the house but I told her again.

"Ah, yes," she said, nodding. "But that's his work name not his real name."

Balance of Terror (Holiday Version)

Several decades ago, in a previous millennium, my International Relations course discussed the theoretical possibility that the Balance of Terror between the US and USSR could have been maintained with a very low number of nuclear warheads on each side as opposed to the tens of thousands eventually produced. As I recall, our conclusion was it could not, that the low balance was too unstable because nukes are cheap and that the next stability point comes only when both sides have maxed out their capabilities. The only choices are none or all.

We seem to have arrived at some sort of unspoken truce this year between ourselves and Neighbor Dan. What with our lawn problems and the expenditure of energy needed to put up the Hallowe'en decorations at the last minute only to have to take them down again almost immediately, my brother has not been in the decorating mood for a while.

Meanwhile, Neighbor Dan and family were away for an extended trip through most of November.

The result is neither party has yet put out any outdoor Christmas decorations. Nothing. Nada. My brother has decided as long as Neighbor Dan does not, he will not. While I am not privy to the internal Neighbor Dan Family debates I get the feeling he also is waiting to see what we will do.

The difference between our competing lawn decorations and the strategic arms race (aside from the number of potential fatalities) is this: a deadline. The longer each side waits the closer we get to the Christmas don't-bother-it's-too-late date. The closer we get the easier it is to just say "Why bother with so little time left."

Our solution this year appears to be: None.

Spreading Holiday Greetings

Mom received a phone call from an old friend yesterday afternoon. At least I think it was an old friend.

When I told her "Marge" was calling Mom looked at me and shrugged. "Do I know her?" she asked.

"She's an old friend," I said, assuming.

"I don't remember that name."

She took the call anyway and a lot of "What's that, again?", "That's nice.",  "Who did?", and "You don't say." ensued for the next ten minutes. A fairly typical catching-up conversation.

After Mom hung up and returned to the living room, I said, "Well, that was a nice call."

Mom said, "Yes. She used to live here but she moved away and now she's somewhere up north in a residential community. What was her name?"

"Marge?"

Yes. Marge. I sure wish I knew who she was."