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All the real.. DIRT

My MIL Ru planting.. something.

Dear Diary,

What is the point? Apparently THIS particular dementia resident doesn’t LIKE the whole tactile experience of gardening. I’m trying to refresh my MIL Ru’s memory of something she used to love to do and all she’s doing is nervously scrutinizing the basil and mint plants like we’re running a huge chance of being busted by the Drug Enforcement Administration- ROAM floor unit. Heh. THAT might prove to have some entertainment val.. Never mind. If it DOES happen Ru, I promise.. you’ve never seen me before and you don’t know how you got here. I’ll run left and you go right (left) and I’ll trip over you.

The very minute I shoved the stolen serving utensils into Ru’s hands and told her to start mushing up the soil.. immediately in she starts with the complaints. Well, wait. Back up a sec, because FIRST, before the complaints, there was the waiting for me to pull the herbs out of the container. Followed by the flinging of dirt all over her hair and in her open mouth. But then came the complaints..

Touching.. filthy DIRT.

“Any reason why we can’t just get in the car and drive to a STORE to buy these? It would be much easier and then YOU wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty. Don’t you need these?”

Hahahaha. OOPS. Roots.

Well Ru, I hate to break it to you but I’m NOT getting my hands dirty. This is YOUR sensory experience.. may I call you, MOTHER EARTH? Many light years ago, when you used to refer to me, as you do now.. your sons FIRST wife.. I remember you planted these amazing Begonia’s.

“They were Dahlias. I never planted Begonia’s.. so YOU’RE wrong.”

And excuse me for that. But you did used to dig in the dirt, right? I remember there was dirt.


“Let’s see.. (thinking hard). No. I don’t think we used dirt back then.”

As I was saying. It’s really important when you have seniors with memory issues, to allow them to participate in activities that connect them to EARTH (as this might be your only chance) thus fertilizing their life experience. Unfortunately, in my case we weren’t coming back down to THIS planet. Not NOW. Not. EVAH.

It was while I was inside the dining room for all of a minute.. helping myself to a few vulger sized bites of Ru’s sponge cake, that Helen (Ru’s sometimes friend and psychic) decided to let me in on her VISION. She’s like e-x-c-u-s-e me Ru’s sons first wife. I see some trouble with your worker happening. Now, I don’t believe that Helen sees anything, but being the kind of gal who likes to be encouraging and respectful to fellow residents, I give her my full attention (while licking the cream off the plate). REALLY? Are you hearing voices or is it more like.. a hunch? That’s when I glanced out the patio window in time to witness Ru, who had apparently moments before FINISHED her planting work had now begun the arduous task.. of WEEDING them the HALLE right out. Basil stems and mint, thyme. You name it.. IT was flying all around her. And do you know want my only thought was at this point? Might I be able to salvage enough.. to smoke?

Pulling out WEEDS

Then she wiped her hands on Helen’s shirt.


Posted in Uncategorized 14 years ago at 6:02 pm.

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