MarnieDear Diary,

I had this thought.. and already after saying that.. I can totally HEAR you all doing the OH NOOOO. NOT THAT.. thing, behind my back. Even if I did hear your warnings.. I would’ve STILL tried to get granny Marnie to enter my car by swinging her butt out and OVER the handlebars of her electric scooter on the count of five.. with the slightest of nudges delivered (with zeal) by me, to create enough force for her to land on the.. ewwww oops.. stick shift. Yes it hurt her a little.. but it didn’t KILL her; so I’m just like, SUCK it up Marnie.. it’s all going to be worth it when you’re shoveling enough samples to provide you two weeks worth of nourishment in that purse of yours compliments of Trader Joes.

Unfortunately Marnie’s minor discomfort briefly overshadowed the field trip adventure for the first 30 minutes (2 hours) because it’s mega hard to focus on bonding time when SOMEONE keeps shrieking, “STOP! Let me out of here! I’ll CRAWL home if I have to” whenever I took the dozen or so speed bumps a l-i-t-t-l-e faster then the posted “suggestion” on the sign. Who goes under thirty anyway? That’s all part of the fun of having a small, tin, no shocks car to tool around in. You get to FEEL the road mannnnn. Ga. I’m rugged.

Once we pulled into our parking place I still had the daunting task of convincing Marnie that most people leave the safety of their CAR when they go shopping. Have it YOUR way. Rest up a bit and shake out your legs before I unfurl your splayed sweaty fingers from this here door handle, so that I may GENTLY move you onto your wheel chair with MORE care then previously administered. K?

Marnie, NOT being one to be duped TWICE (within the hour) starts eyeing me suspiciously. “Maybe YOU should put down your PHONE for five seconds and WATCH this time to see where you’re throwing me.”

Maybe I should..

I was just beginning to doubt if Marnie had guts enough to take another LEAP of faith into my awaiting arms.. when all of a sudden.. MIRACLE of miracles, I hear shouting and see frantic hand signals from the passenger side of my car like she wants to get out. Or I could be wrong. Maybe they weren’t signals at all. Perhaps the more likely explanation might be that Marnie, upon deciding a safer route was to break the window by hammering it with her fists and then climbing out.. was talking to herself while she worked. Not being sure which road she’d take, I at ONCE (after posting my new status update on facebook) threw my coat on the ground to break her fall and then rolled the electric window down so nobody would get hurt on glass fragments should I be right.

“What does that lady have? Quick! Look over there. Yoo hoo! L-A-D-Y! What do you have in your napkin? Chocolate Tiramisu samples?”

Yes! Brilliant. The old.. LURE them out with the choicest free foodstuffs trick. Why didn’t I think of that?

Uh. Uh. Uhhhhh (zipping lip motion). THAT.. was a RHETORICAL question you guys. Don’t all shout at once.

Of course the nice lady looks over our way and holds up her plate towards granny and says something to me in the ballpark of, THIS is so YUM.. you have to get some. And then I translated to Marnie EXACTLTLY what the lady said to me as she crammed every last spongy morsel into her red lipsticked mouth.

“She says you had better hurry up.. cuz she thinks she’s got the last one.”

Five seconds later inside:

MARNIE: May I have one of those lovely pieces of.. WHAT do you say it is? I’ve never tried it before (shoving third slice of WHAT DO YOU SAY IT IS.. in her mouth).

ME: Marnie.. Do you want me to hold your (20th) sample of coffee so you don’t spill it while we shop?

MARNIE: Oh no (I don’t trust you with a ten foot pole) I wouldn’t want you to have more work to do, honey. You just stand way over THERE (pointing across the store) and take care of your shopping.

Then.. splat. Coffee EVERYWHERE.. as some dummy bashes into the back of my Marnie’s wheel chair while t-r-y-i-n-g to reach OVER Marnie carefully to have a EGG WHITE SALAD taste.

Marnie. Oh my gosh! Is it hot? Did it burn you? Are you eating that.. noodle salad?

Ummmm.. Yeah I know. Then as I’m screaming, IT’S DRIPPING on the burrito with Salsa Verde, DO something.. I notice Feta Egg white salad is spewing out of my mouth and onto the top of Marnies Hairpiece, Bertha. NOW we have an elderly woman, sitting in her wheelchair, covered in Colombian dark roast.. with her granddaughter picking egg chunks from her hair.. smooshing burrito sample into her purse and blotting herself with dirty KLEENEX. Nice.

The great thing about Marnie is.. her generosity. Even after alllllll the fiasco, Marnie found it in her heart, to not only FORGIVE me.. but to INSIST that she would like to contribute to my dinner party the next evening by picking up the tab for the basket load of groceries I’m going to purchase. I KNOW. Awesome, right? Except.. as we get up to the check out, I see Marnie pull out her wallet and start counting:




FOURRRRRRR dollars..

and FIVE


Well.. this doesn’t look good. DOES IT.. all you people standing behind me in line, giving me the HOW DARE YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS POOR WOMAN stabby eyed look. Not that anything else up to this POINT has looked any better. But hmpfff— even I have limits.

Being that she’s now ALL the way up to.. TWELVE and DONE. I realize, I would either have to put everything BACK and go with the HALF a pound of.. organic almonds for dinner or tell Marnie the truth.

“Marnie.. he says it comes to $12 dollars. Think you have it?”

Oh GAWD. I’m so clever (gag gag).

“Amazing. Because THAT’s what I have right here.”

I KNOW. How crazy is that?

I begin to secretly swipe my credit card for $32 through the machine and wink furiously at the check out dude HOPING he doesn’t get the wrong idea.. like all the people WATCHING. Then handing him MARNIES $12 in soiled wet bills and sticking my hand out for him to shove them BACK at me on the way out. GA. All the while, Marnie is positively GIDDY with this look of, I just made a killing off of Trade Joe by paying $12 for a SHEET load of food stuffs and no one has a clue. Fools.

Granny leans towards me and says, BETTER push fast out the door. Before he figures out he added wrong. Heh heh heh. We should come back TOMORROW and try it again.”

Yes. Let’s.


Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 14 years ago at 9:53 pm.

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Picture of the DAY: Who’s THAT girl?

The UPPER slice of my sandwich

I showed this snapshot to my MIL Ru and I’m like, RU.. Do you know who these people are in this picture? Then she’s holding it— scrutinizing the faces and looks up asking for clarification, “THESE people HERE? Please note.. she asks this NOT because she has dementia (even though she does).. but because.. you know— in case I was messing with her head and I was gonna pull out another snap and go, AHHHHH HA! Tricked your sorry arse suckahhh. You are sorely mistaken. I really meant THESE people HERE (pulling out picture of Jonas brothers from OTHER pocket). YOU owe me FIVE BUCKS. Not that I have or would EVER do that. Ever.

I knew Ru had the answer, the minute she started to bring the photo up to her nose to sniff.. then show intent to scratch it.

“AAACK It’s not the smelly kind. Just take a guess because one of those people is YOU.”

Then surprise! She guesses on the very first try setting me back five smackers and you know me. Instead of doing the SMART thing and moving on to more PRODUCTIVE tasks ( and never you mind what) I keep pushing my luck even further. Double or nothin’ Ru. AND if THAT’S you on the right.. who do you think those OTHER people are?



Well, it looks like granny MARNIE is on the left.

Well I’m SO doing the victory dance over this, for that only leaves ONE more person to guess and how hard can THAT be, right?


that’s my mother in the middle.

Yup. That otta to teach me.

Posted 14 years ago at 8:26 pm.

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Picture of the DAY: I feel pretty.. with my lips my DIL drew on my face

My MIL Ru ready to go.

OK Ru.. you look great. Let’s go. Oh.. oops. I almost missed the l-i-t-t-l-e speck of something on your teeth. Hold on one sec— now smile big while I shove some of these abrasive brown industrial strength PAPER TOWLES in your mouth and scrub off all signs of residual tooth enamel.

This was NOT my fault. She OPENED her mouth and SMILED when I was coating her lips in MAC Mother Plucker Red. GA. As if I didn’t have a hard enough time staying within the lines with her mouth SHUT. Seriously, the biggest obstacle is trying to figure out which LINES I was supposed to stay inside of. I was going for the puffy, just shy of bloodied lip against pasty white skin look, that’s so big right now. Kind of something that screams HELP ME I need some ATTENTION. MALE attention. NOT to be confused with ATTENTION that’s MEDICAL in nature.. which clearly, is what you’re viewing here.

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 5:13 pm.


If the SHOE fits..

My MIL Ru and the EXPENSIVE shoes not in NARROW

Dear Diary,

Seemingly out of NOWHERE we were about 25 minutes into an intense decision making process of whether we were going to spend $567 on a pair of rhinestone stacked heel pumps that would go with everything in my MIL Ru’s wardrobe. Like she would look so hot pairing them with her JC Penney’s rayon blended slacks and her “my mother went to France and all she brought me was this damn tee-shirt” top.

We stood there admiring them and the shoe salesman walks up and is all, “How are you ladies today?” A fair enough question if you ask me. But someone took that another way and starts with her eye batting routine totally freaking the guy out and he’s like, “Ma’am are you OK? Do you want to lay down?” Ah yes. You knew it was coming didn’t cha? Cue the coy flirty innocent fairy girl and.. GO!

Why l-a-y d-o-w-n? What EVER did you have in mind cute young metrosexual gentleman? (For possibilities click HERE and HERE and HERE and..)

Shut-UP. I KNOW. As if any insignificant urrrr.. PREFERENCE settings on HIS part are going to derail HER plans.. right. Immediately I DO what I usually do in instances like these.. cover for Ru’s HEINOUS behavior with something in the ballpark of..

“She’s only lived in the country a short time.. she’s here visiting.”

Well.. I had to think fast and Ru— once she set’s her (slightly macular degenerated) sights on someone it’s over.

“Ohhh. That’s nice. Where are you from?”

GAWD. Here we go.

RU: That place (gazing intently into dudes green eyes and Adonis face) where we all live and sleep together.

Yup. Happy you ASKED pretty boy? Can you say Dementia? I know you can.

We’re hemming and hawing.. trying to justify the purchase of—The artist formerly know as Prince’s SHOES and our pleasant salesman, after learning who would actually be WEARING the shoes.. became incredibly helpful in dissuading Ru with..

“I THINK they might be..”

Continue kindly sir..

“..marked down 50%. Want me to check?”

Yeah. Why don’t you do THAT. Run along.

The artist formerly known as Prince 's shoes

Wait a minute. What is he bringing us from the corner? Dude— It better not be Balenciaga.. because Ru already told me that they run narrow. Ohhhh. These are cuteeeee. Granny? What do you think? Are these cute or WHAT.

“I THINK you’d better stop calling me GRANNY or my FRIEND here will get the wrong idea.”

Temper. Temper.

No we wouldn’t want THAT. (tsk tsk) Heaven forbid the shoe guy REJECTS you solely on the basis of.. AGE. Heh. We could so sue him if he did that. Moving right along.. Can you shove your foot in these?

These shoes were ADOREABLE. You guys I. DIE. They were kind of a nautical canvas flat.. with rubber soles to give the illusion of sturdiness for when one slips over say.. stray walkers left out in the hallways of ROAM (Random Occasional Accidental Memory). Perfect. Now.. about the color. Ru? Do you want the blue ones.. or the red ones? Well, the skull and cross bones ones are darling too— but I’m thinking I’ve already SEEN them on Greta.

That was a falsehood. It was Ru’s neighbor in 234C Blanche. If I told Ru it was Blanche, she’d get her proverbial GRANNY PANTIES in a bunch and you would seriously be able to watch her lip curl and sparks fly from her nostrils running the risk of setting her Fu manchu moustache (that I haven’t had time to pluck) on FIRE. I can hear it now, WELLLLL.. blah blah blah. Blanche can just go suck an egg because the last time I bought something special and unique those opaque tights (beige support hose) SHE ran out and bought the same ones herself. Imagine? I think on principle we should go ahead and buy these ones with the little stick-men on them.

Don’t you love how.. when you finally find the shoe you HAVE to have, you turn it over and find it’s way out of your price range. That’s what I’m being told by Miss Ru Mae Martyrdom. Seriously Ru? TOO much? Because WAKE UP.. in the REAL world we don’t PAY $1.50 for FRIGGIN’ shoes at a TOP END department store. I mean puh-leeeeze. REALITY CHECK— and since we all know THAT’S so not going to happen (reality ANYTHING). Not now. Not E-V-A-H. I move towards the next best thing in my arsenal of trickery and treachery. Aptly named.. the LIE.

“Ru. Guess what? Here.. lay down for a minute. You look stressed and (reaching around in purse) hungry. Tic-tac? The thing is Ru.. that the shoes you like (stalling).. Oh YO! Cute guy.. come over here for a sec. Did you say those canvas shoes are MARKED d-o-w-n? (nodding head in affirmative.. so guy is a part of plot) Like the special of the day?”

RU: What do you think these are.. SOUP?

SHOE GUY: Thosssssssse? Ummmm. I don’t think so.

Sir, I am going to.. without any hesitation, take every DIME of your drat commission.. if I should close this sale.. I’ll tell you that RIGHT NOW.

“Could you go LOOK?”

Then SOMEONE.. after sticking her hand in her mouth and examining the remains of the slimy tic tac with a.. WHAT do I have here? Decided to go all fiscally responsible and lay this guilt trip on me for even entertaining the idea of spending over our agreed upon limit of.. $1.50. “I can’t just go out and buy these” she says and oh here comes the best part. I HAVE TO COME DOWN TO EARTH. Why Ru? You won’t LIKE it here on our planet. Why don’t you consider staying right where you are.. with all the nice people that you live and sleep with.. EH?

Yeah. I don’t now where the Canadian “EH” thing came from either. I sound good in Canadian. More.. Compassionate as I deliver my tender eldercare to my loved ones.

“Get over it.”

As we’re purchasing the shoes my dear Ru looks at me and delivers the Pièce de résistance..

I guess I’m just not used to the HIGH LIFE (sigh)

Nah. Not. At. All.


Love the shoes Ru!

Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 7:09 pm.


Picture of the DAY: The first SAG of SPRING

My MIL Ru.. life is looking UP

In honor of SPRING.. a time of renewal and freshly blooming hope.. I turn my attention to my MIL Ru. Ummmm.. Do you see any signs of JOWL’S on this woman? GA. OK. Never mind. Let’s move along.. to TURKEY NECK. Now look carefully. Certainly THAT loose neck wattle has to show up at some point.. right? Pfffft. Or wait.. I know what would be unattractive.. heh heh. Could she not sprout some sort of hairy mole someplace prominent. We NEED you to do that Ru. Sprout something. You know.. to keep the fantasy alive that growing old makes one all.. nasty looking with the personality of unicorn dung. That might be nice. THEN I might actually feel.. SORRY FOR YOU.

Some of us MUCH younger woke up this morning and found something that bared a striking resemblance to CHEEK BONES on THEIR face. I know. Woo Hoo! I look thinner. Except, as I continued looking downward I was like, WAIT a minute. What are these cute pinchable JOWLS doing hanging off MY double chin? Then I quickly look downward to see if the OTHER hanging accoutrements where still in place.. which they were. Phew.

You on the other hand are the one that’s supposed to be OLD Ru.. where’s your proof dude?

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 1:36 pm.

1 comment

When the SHEET HITS the Nan

My tough ole MIL RuDear Diary,

There are not many people that could be standing in the middle of a major intersection and be sooooo totally engrossed in whatever they happen to be doing (measuring the length of neck hairs on my MIL Ru’s throat for a possible world record) that they NOT notice the rapidly approaching semi truck bearing down on them from the corner of FREE Cookies and Fruit, inside Happy Daze Assisted. That’s right. At the very LEAST—  you’d think we would’ve caught the whiff of trouble that was floating in our direction.. GA. It’s that signature scent of the over EIGHTY set, that should totally be removed from fine (drug) store shelves immediately due to asphyxiation upon inhalation. I like to call it.. Eau de high school bio lab. A unique blend of one part Britney Fantasy to two parts Formaldehyde.. light and noxious with fruity vinegar low notes.

Fortunately while Ru and I where all engrossed in the size of fore mentioned stubbles amazing root system, upon removal of that sucker for medical science— By some serendipitous stroke act, Ru spots some sort of TREASURE laying under one of the tables. Because it’s easier for me to c-r-o-u-c-h down.. GA.. on all fours and crawllll under Thelma’s legs to reach the.. (turning over in hands and chucking it at MIL) NEW valuable, mint condition, grotty HEARING Aid that had fallen out of one of these MILLION (looking around the lobby) elderly residents E hole. Ewwwww. Ru, don’t put it in your pocket.. the MOST you might hope to get for it is.. 50 maybe 60 cents, like the LAST time.

Ru looks up to see if perhaps she might NOTICE who was having trouble over hearing us and.. CRIPES. The big ole MOTHER TRUCKER herself, was about an inch away from smacking the heck into us. Immediately.. I hear the distinct warning cries of granny..

AAAACK. It’s NANNNNNN. Quick do something! HIDE. Don’t just stand there.. Help me down under the table.

Oh come on. I was just there. I’m not going down.. AAACK! It’s NAAAAN!

Upon hearing THAT—thank you GEEZUZ, I was able to brace for impact by puuuushing my MIL out in front. You know like a shield.. to take the full brunt of impact, in what some of you might deem a pathetic gesture to save myself f-i-r-s-t. WHOA. Hold off on the judgment dudes. Because I have YOUNG children. I NEED to be able to see them grow up and leave the nest and take their GAWD forsaken LEGOS with them. THREE feet of LEGOS.

The collision wasn’t pretty. There was a lot of shrieking and arms and legs all akimbo while people were hugging and I was trying to avoid getting my hair all stinky with that nauseating stench (that will take multiple washings before I don’t smell like pickled road kill). I’m hugging the back of my MIL while pushing HER into Nan’s awaiting arms and then before I could stop it from happening.. we all broke away to see these big PURPLE glossed LIPS deliver.. the KISS of DEATH.

Well.. how are youuuuu? You’re both looking well (looking me up and down). What’s THAT you have on your legs (steps closer).. is that.. JAM? To which I gently reply (because you should always be nice to old people asking trick questions) Yup. It very well could be jam.. NAN. I thought, being that I was UNDER the table already.. touching you know, devices that have been in strange peoples orifices— I might like to crawl over the smooshed up scone someone had dropped and played with.. with her UGGS and perhaps have a little snack whilst I tarry a sec.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry.. I’d have given you the rest of it?”

I was standing there spitting on a napkin trying to blot my knees.. when out of the mouth of Ru, (who has a habit of forgetting repeatedly that to SOME certain people we NEVER ask this question) comes..

So NAN.. how are you doing?

Followed by the blood bath..

“Wellll (OOHH)… I’ll tell you..(UGHH) Not. (Oh) So. (EM) Good. (GEE) This is what I’m talking about.. see. I sit here day after day and now I have this pain around my lower region.

RU: ASS pain?

NAN: Well, it could be.. you know because it’s in that vicinity. I just feel crummy and have no appetite at all.

Please let us be done. Please. Are you kidding? It’s not going to end there. No way. Now we’re going to get to hear all the particulars of possible systems glitches that could indicate impending.. death. Like.. what Ru’s pointing out to you loud and clear Nan. Your face is pasty, your eyes look like you must not be sleeping well. Poor thing.. Cuz your lids are all a nasty shade of.. moss GREEN. What about YOUR LIPS? Healthy lips aren’t PURPLE with magenta lining Nan. Alright that’s enough. Quick.. What’s the diagnosis doctor?

“You need your head examined.”

What? Are you kidding? Did she just say that out loud? Why yes. I do believe she did.

“What do you MEAN I need my head examined?”

In situations like this.. I have this CARD that I will only use if, say.. there’s a threat of bodily harm to my person and.. oh all right.. RU’S person too. Or if it’s imperative that we get immediate seating at a WINDOW booth in a restaurant cuz Ru skipped her second breakfast and she’s ravenous and about to COLLAPSE from.. “Cholera”? Yeah. If that’s what she says she HAS then I’m going with it.

OR my MIL and I might need to acquire an extra ANGEL perfume sample from NORDSTROM fragrances.. because we’ve run out of using her hair spray to “freshen up a bit” so, yeah I might use the CARD then. This is the point that the card must be PLAYED.. otherwise my MIL’s going to start bandying about the “screws loose” terminology and THAT could invite disaster.

“You know Fran (pointing at MIL’S head).. we have this little PROBLEM and she THOUGHT you were somebody ELSE. You know how that goes? (Makes the BLOW it OFF face with added hand gesture for full effect)

“No I did NOT. I know EXACTLY who she is.”

NAN: See? She knows who I am.

Nan is a lovely woman. In her own words.. she has a little too much time on her hands to reflect on potential terminal diseases and think about disturbing topics. Such as.. the disgusting meat loaf that will eventually find it’s way onto the dinner menu.. that she won’t touch because she’s lost all her appetite due to her undiagnosed medical condition. Well, ACTUALLY it WAS diagnosed.. as a possible GAS issue brought on by too much of a good thing. Prunetinis. But according to Nan—YOU KNOW these doctors. They know from NOTHING. Anyway we’ve got the gas issue and death. Not necessarily in THAT order.. but you get the idea. Once I was able to coax this factoid out of her, I found that Ru and I as a TEAM (term used loosely) could delicately help her through her problems by perhaps sharing first my own feelings on the subject..

ME: Nan. I hate to break it to you but.. YOU’RE going to DIE! We’re ALLLLLLL going to die. LIVE with IT. Move on. You’re not going to die right away.. so what the HALLE are you going to do in the meantime? YOU’RE KILLING US NAN.

RU: (looking at me) Are you done so I can say something?

ME: Yeah. Go.

RU: Nan dear. You’re as good as dead. Now do you want to take a walk with us or not? Cuz I don’t have the time to sit here and watch you die. Get a coat on or you’ll catch Pneumonia.

That was how it went.. pretty much word for word.

We had taken not ten steps when Nan stops dead in her tracks and starts to moan about being HUNGRY. Well, finally my dear MIL had reached her limit and pulls me aside as Nan was over by the bushes catching her breath and trying to bend over to touch her.. pulse. Anything Nan? (Nan trying to find pulse) No? Keep trying..

Ru’s making this face at me while being all— LOOK what you’ve brought upon us. I should have known something like this would happen the MINUTE you latched on to HER.

UUUUURK. Come again? Did you just say, I latched on.. to HER? Heh. I think NOT sista girlfriend.

“Well then why do YOU have to try and help her? Can’t you see she ENJOYS what she does for a living? I don’t want to be a part of this whole sordid affair. You need to break it off now or we’re THROUGH.”

YOU’VE been watching THE BACHELOR again haven’t you?

Yeah. Love that show. How’d you guess? I guess (grumble grumble) I could have a talk with her (insert frowny face here).

Yes. Ru. Why don’t you do that. Have her come up to your room under false pretenses and you and that thug friend of yours Marion can smack some sense into her. Sounds like a plan.

After Ru and I escorted Nan back to Happy Daze we hugged each other tightly and looked upon our own MANY blessings. Ru said it best, “Good thing we’re healthy and normal and playing with a FULL DECK.




Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 3:30 am.

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Picture of the DAY: How the Pinch stole X-Mas.

The little leprechaun strikes again.

Well.. looks to me like SOMEONE wasn’t paying attention when I explained the RULES of the game for St. Patrick’s day. Not that I’m a bit surprised by my MIL Ru’s behavior. She’s all.. ARE you serious? I get to freely roam the halls pinching guys butts without fear of retribution (by their wives) today? NOOOO. Ummm.. but there’s a CATCH Ru. They can’t be wearing green. If they’re found to be wearing ANY shade of green (pointing for clarification to fakey green beads on necklace) THIS color HERE and you’ve pinched them anyway.. then you’ll be immediately disqualified and all privileges revoked. Got that? Whyyy.. sure ya do.

See my friends, this is the problem. When you celebrate certain holidays on a dementia floor (that involve touching others).. people can get all confused and forgetful. Even IF the gentleman is wearing green.. there will always be ONE in the crowd who has NO. SELF. RESTRAINT. Her neuron misfirings get all caught up in the (plaque) moment and all of a SUDDEN she begins to think RATIONALIZE that it’s now perfectly OK to go around and pinch any dudes ASS she sees because.. Hmpf. Who’s gonna know the diff? All Ru has to do, is tell a small teensy FIB to Walter, Roger, the fish tank cleaner man— anyone that she can CON. Then be like, “Ohhhh goodness.. G-R-E-E-N? I didn’t SEEEEE any green. I’m so sorry.. but—

I have PERMISSION to touch you inappropriately on the buttocks.. it’s a HOLIDAY. Merry X-Mas.

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 1:08 pm.


Picture of the DAY: Lucky Charm

My lucky charm.. Ru

I am going to prove to you right here and now.. contrary to popular belief.. not ALL old people are the same. I know. I know. All the old folks that YOU’VE ever been around have been so sweet, loving and never EVER told you to SHUT THE HALLE UP cuz where do you think you are.. the boys locker room? Oh don’t YOU wish Selma.

Yeah. Good for you that y’all have such a healthy view of aging and so much freakin’ tolerance. Achhhh… You’re alllll a bunch of liars— cuz I’ve read your tweets and your posts and I KNOW you think old people are a cranky, mean spirited lot.. but you’re WRONG.

See that little leprechaun above.. the one with the gleam in her bad eye and the impish grin? THAT my friends is the NEW face of old. Radiant, happy and although a smidge forgetful at times.. Supremely fulfilled. Do you know why? Because she “gets lucky” THAT’S why.

Pardon me Ru.. might we rephrase that so there’s no misunderstanding?

“I’m the lucky one because I’m loved and have you by my side.. and..”


“you’re the BEST sister a girl could have.”

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 8:38 pm.


Where’s the BEEF?

My MIL Ru wants to know WHERE'S THE BEEF?Dear Diary,

Talk about my MIL Ru being HAPPY to see me. I’m practically getting a swelled up head after this mornings visit. I was feeling full of (some sort of D word) DELIGHT as I rapidly proceeded through the automatic doors of Happy Days Assisted Living. Which in case you encounter them, I should tell you— it’s a TRAP. They’re secretly triggered to slam HARD and FAST when sensing movement or you know, signs of.. LIFE. I happened to be feeling pretty lucky today so I paced myself with another residents entrance.. the thinking BEING, that if WE were going to get smashed I’d let Mildred take the brunt of it with her metal walker to buffer her and I’d just drop and roll. Of course Mildred not being (much of) a dummy, knew something was up when I squished in with her all snug between the bars and tried to angle it so she went in first.

Then I bolt over to the elevator before Mildred can join me.. jump in and press the “door close” button, totally missing the fact that STANLEY (smacking forehead) was already in there. OMG. How screwed am I? You guys-this is S-T-A-N-L-E-Y. As in, FLAT (short for flatulence) Stanley.  Yuh huh. Gag. Gag. Why he feels that he’s entitled to BREATHE in the small confines of this elevator for two floors.. and I am NOT.. I do not know. But being the martyr that I am.. I say nothing and hold MY breath before I fling myself out the minute the doors open gasping for fresher “air”. Naturally the joke’s on me because.. Ha. So NOT going to find it.. HERE.

Bursting through the dementia floor faux bookcase I’m feeling ready to be completely accepted and loved by people I like to refer to as MY PEOPLE. Except TODAY.. MY people have pissy scowls on their faces and look like they want to scalp me when I let loose with,

“Chaka Khan, Chaka Khan, Chaka Khan.. let me rock you Let me rock you, Chaka Khan Let me rock you, that’s all I wanna do..”

All the while— doing that stupid thing that I do with my pretend mic and my uncoordinated jerky spasms. Johns yelling, “Would you turn that THING DOWN” and Blanche is all, “Would somebody HELP her.. I think she’s having seizures.” I blow them both off choosing instead to grab onto Marion’s hands and try to get her to do a little turn with a twist. But that went badly.

Then you guys.. out of the BLUE I hear this booming thunderous voice YELL, “Well? Did you BRING anyone with youuuuu? Like.. (slight fervored pitch) a MAN?”

Ru.. ummmmm. Did I KNOW I was supposed to bring a man today? Because if you TOLD me a MAN was DUE.. I guarantee he would be here and turned in promptly. Then for full effect, I creatively add something she would NEVER in a million years be able to DISPROVE, “like I ALWAYS do”.

Apparently granny wasn’t buying any of it because when I looked up around the point I heard myself lamely say, ” maybe the dog ate my homework”, I noticed Ru march around the corner by the dining room to search inside and upon being satisfied HE wasn’t in there.. immediately headed towards Sylvia’s room. Makes perfect sense to me. I’m going to s-n-e-a-k a guy onto a dementia floor and then be, “Quick dude! In here! I’ll hide you in Sylvia’s.. DEPENDS drawer?

Oh PLEEEEEZE Ru’Mae. Look. Assuming I did indeed have prior knowledge of said MAN— I would’ve written it down on these (pulling gum wadded foils from coat pocket) SPECIAL note papers, “and I don’t see anything on here except nasty chewed Bubble Yum.. do YOU?” Oh Ru.. COME ON. Why the face? Is it Show and TELL day?

One really unwise move my friends.. is to ever mess around with my MIL and the topic of.. homework. If she THINKS she’s told me, then WHY oh WHY would I EVAH think to question?

“Why don’t you CALM down and tell me exactly what you said to me yesterday, word for word. K? Go.”

RU: Well, first I remember I said something about you having a gigantic spot on your pant leg that you’d tried to get out by dipping KLEENEX in water and rubbing it all around. I thought THAT was funny and I laughed at your stupidity. Then Blanche came in.. to see why I was laughing and she started to HOWL when trying to put powder on it you dumped it all over the floor.. and the girl came and..

You have five MORE seconds then I’m going to have to DQ you from the game and move on to the next question.

RU: I said something like.. Well.. Oh I don’t remember.

ME: Cognitus interruptus?

RU: Yup.

ME: No worries.

My Sandwich Generation newbies.. life can get dull at times for your senior. Remember when you go to visit, always have some sort of age appropriate entertainment on hand. It doesn’t need to be much, because, let’s face it when faced with the option of playing with your SPIN ART application on your phone or watching the paint flake off the wall with the rest of the group.. it’s a pretty sure bet she’s going to choose the arts and crafts option. If all else fails and YOU don’t want to.. arrange to bring up a little ENTERTAINMENT and sing along.

I FEEL for you..


Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 10:25 pm.

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Life in a PISH bowl

My MIL Ru and her new FRIENDDear Diary,

This point can’t be stressed enough, in order to become really good at difficult tasks in life— talents that you really wish to obtain a high level of proficiency in.. it’s gonna take a great deal of fortitude and focus, hard work and a freakin’ fabulous attitude. So right now, if I feel so inclined to do a little victory dance over my successful pee-gathering mission involving my MIL Ru at the doctors.. then SOMEONE should let me revel in my happiness for all of five seconds, BEFORE totally peeing on MY PARADE by saying,

“So..seee? You do have some sort of SKILL after all.”

Thanks Ru. You know, I think I deserve just a teensy bit of credit here for making it look as easy as I do. When THAT my friends, is oh so very far from the truth.

I’m not going to brag.. but, all right.. maybe I will— It’s not EVERYONE that can identify a possible LIFE THREATENING urinary condition with the skill that I have demonstrated with a staggering amount of crap-shoot over these last (million) years. As your eldercare educator you guys, just a heads up, that WHEN your senior family member with dementia seems like she’s acting.. overly dementia like— don’t hesitate to haul her sorry ARSE over to the nearest Starbucks. You have a few drinks, calm her concerns and then and ONLY THEN.. do you ATTEMPT to sit her on the JOHNNY. It’s here that you might feel the need to expedite the process, by pointing your lightsabre phone app. at her threateningly to “put out” the necessary amount as INSTRUCTED on this poster (pointing strongly at measurement chart on door) or you’ll shoot. Works for me. Kidddddding.

You have to admit Ru.. I’ve come along way from the days I was all.. “OK. You can go. AAACK! STOP. I have to fix the HAT (thing you pee into.. not from the Chanel Kentucky Derby line) AND READY? SET.. GO! UGHHHHH. STOPPPP. You moved”, and so on and so on.. until at last, I was forced to fill her up with ANOTHER Venti, one pump vanilla, skinny mocha and go through the whole entire affair AGAIN. Not this time. I’m all.. Bam. Bam. Bam. Got it. Let’s blow this pop stand BAY-BE. Then “we” march out, not only five lbs lighter but intensely proud of MY huge important.. maybe even life-altering (doubtful) accomplishment now donated to medical science for closer inspection for any present signs of..


Yup Ru. Precisely. THAT will be addressed too. But by allllll means, if you FEEL like you want a second opinion from that sometimes friend of yours across the hall Selma, the QUASI dental hygienist from 1714.. then we’ll ask her when we get back to the ROAM (Random Occasional Accidental Memory) floor. K? OOPS. Maybe a tad snippy for granny’s taste, judging by the body language of her.. FACE with her tongue sticking out.

“Oh come on. We had f-u-n today didn’t we? I got you out of Happy Hands class and that amazing trivia game conducted by the cute new activities girl in.. POLISH.

“YOU would think it was YOUR urine the way you’re carrying on about it blah blah blah..(Uncomfortable pause.. to adjust tight waistband) Do you have a tic-tac?”

Ohhhhhhh.. I get it. YOU want recognition for your role in this don’t you sweetie.




“you already said that.”

Right. Hey! Will a mint tea bag work.. I have one of THOSE to suck on?

Not being able to resist what I KNOW I most certainly will come to regret later.. I’m thinking for PURELY entertainment value purposes o-n-l-y, to probe deeper into the (unknown) thinking behind the tic-tac request. This is what I was able to squeeze out of her.. see if you can follow. This morning Ru was seated at breakfast next a HOSTILE man named George, who had no desire to allow her to “test for doneness” his glazed cinnamon roll and when he finally got around to shoving the gooey morsel in his mouth, my always impeccably mannered MIL claims to have SUBTLY mentioned, that he need not SPRAY the food stuffs all over the table while he gums his cud like a farm animal and he BLEW her OFF. The nerve. Then she gets up out of her chair and ACCIDENTALLY touches the top of his foot with the bottom of HERS.. and he’s screaming something about being LITIGIOUS and his dad’s a lawyer. Oh so what Georgie? I’m practically a.. DOCTOR.

As Ru and I are walking down the hall to her room.. you know we pass that fish tank with the adjacent bench’s where Blanch and Marion always hang.. which the new guy Herman pronounces, BITCHES. “Let’s all go sit on the bitches while we watch them fishy’s swim in circles until they eventually float up to the surface and die from boredom. You girls’ game?” Ru starts to slow her gait WAYYYY down and kind of distance herself from me for no OBVIOUS reason that I can see.. until HE emerges from behind the fish tank all sweaty and muscular. With his big strong hands grasping his huge and glorious.. fishing net. WHY.. Hello there Mr. Tank cleaner dude. I’m Ru’s DIL and I take really goood care of… OUCH! Why’d you hit me?

“I didn’t HIT you. I nudged you. Can’t anyone else get a word in edgewise?”

Then Ru.. starts to totally do her flirty routine on this.. no older then (that Starbucks guy LAST week) 19 year old and she’s PUSHING me against HERMAN sitting on the BITCHES. At last the reason for her sucking on that mint tea bag all the way home.. Jonathan. Let me tell you.. I’m really big on allowing the freedom of choice to remain for as long as the individual shows a smidge of interest. But, there was no WAY.. so I’m basically shoving her in the direction of her room and all the while she’s shouting her room number in his direction and making the “call me” sign with her fingers. Yup. Don’t hold your breath little fishy.


Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted 14 years, 1 month ago at 10:45 pm.