Pleeeze don’t be BLUE!

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I feel that I am dealing with a teenage girl! There is Ruth the young at heart, all–”I live in the moment. I’m a fun-loving adventure woman.” There is Ruth the moody- “Who YOU lookin’ at? Leave me ALONE! I’m going to my ROOM.. (slam)!” Then there is my favorite– Ruth working some serious “tude”, sporting lipstick, pearls and a I’M ALL THAT strut. Today’s special.. Ruth in LOVE.
BLAHHH! This role reversal thing leaves me feeling like such a STICK IN THE MUD, S.I.M for short.

I walk purposefully towards the dining room with the agenda being, to label all of Ruth’s wardrobe with indelible Sharpie Permanent Purple Pen ink.. again. I thought the whole purpose and reputation of this pen was based upon it’s ability to withstand WATER, i.e. wash machines, toilet bowl dunkings, and liquid beverage mishaps that involve a certain SOMEONE (Harriet* ) (*Please see past blogs), tossing JUICE at some one’s (my) mother-in-law. Unfortunately when the pen wears off.. Ruth’s clothes go M.I.A. Who knoooows where they go… I have theories, but nothing hard and fast at this point.

I’m spotted immediately by Ruth the… demure, blushing, I’m full of light and bliss– fairy girl? Where did SHE come from? The last time “Fairy Feingold” showed up was…hmmmmm
This is what happens when I skip my Starbucks Zen tea with soy; processing becomes painfully s-l-o-o-o-w-w. When I put all the elements together, and factored in the probability, I realized with the slowly lifting brain fog, that Ruth had found.. herself.. a.. MAN!!(again)

Escaping the clutches of Ruth’s embrace, I happen to glance down, and find myself fixated on something, “toe-tally alarm-ing!”, OMG! Ruth had BLUE NAILS! SHUT— UP!
Really… her nails were painted thirteen year old “stuffed bra, Seven Jeans, Brittney BLUE”..with pink dots.

Me (S.I.M): Ruth, what happened here? Are you feeling O.K.? Is this Gangrene? Call a doctor!
Ruth (giggling): I don’t remember what happened. Isn’t it terrible?
Me (S.I.M) Do you have any other symptoms? Vomiting, fever..?
It really wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it weren’t for the fact that TWENTY-FOUR hours earlier I had taken Ruth to have her nails, French Manicured at She-She Poo-Poo Salon and Spa for thirty-five– yes, you heard right… Thirty-five BUCKS!
Labels? I’ll do that tomorrow!

I can NEVER say this next point enough, My dear Sandwich Generation BFF’s. If you post instructions for the staff to follow, i.e. never, ever, polish Ruth’s nails..they must do as instructed. If we are having some communication issues with any eldercare providers, clear them up NOW.. before they become serious! Red Hair with blonde stripes is so 80’s and NOT a good look on anyone.

A