Mish Mosh and a Correction

We had some freaky weather yesterday.

The day started off hot and muggy, followed by cool and gloomy, then came the rain, Flash Flood Warnings, thunder, lightning, ending with the return of sun and heat. All this between 8AM and 4PM.

It was like the weather gods had a work schedule, threw everything at us in one shift.

The only weather-related event that didn’t happen yesterday was an earthquake or a fire.

Also what didn’t happen yesterday was, even though Management indicated the only way we would be getting an Activity Calendar for the month was through signing up for Rent Café; yet and still, after having capitulated, signing up, no calendar of events was forthcoming, which prompted me to walk down to the Community Room to see what if anything was going on.

The joint was jumping. In addition to the day being Pizza Tuesday, there was coffee, donuts, a mish mosh of Arts and Crafts going on.

Trash Tosser was in the room, chatting with I forget who; while Dream Lover, who had been the recipient of her trash being tossed at his door, was also present — sitting at the opposite end of the room.

I sensed no tension. Energy in the room was high; everyone was on their best behavior.

I imagine the strong coffee (I had a cup, and it was strong enough to make my hair stand on end) and sugary donuts had a lot to do with the high energy, LOL.

Di was in the room — the 60 something who was in a relationship with Meat Man’s 20 something son until the son turned Baby Reindeer, ending in police involvement.

Di is very pretty for her age, gets around well, but I think she’s losing it.

She always lights up when she sees me, waves and says "Hi, Shirley" but, when I walked into last week’s BBQ, she waved, greeted me with "Hi, Diane".

She’s known me for as long as I’ve lived here, but it’s just in the last two years she’s been calling me by random names.

When I walked into the Community Room yesterday, it was "Hi, Joanne".

I don’t even try to correct her any longer. I just go with it.

Crafts was a mish mosh. Supposedly to be an uninspiring writing of Father’s Day messages on blank canvases, when no one seemed interested, it switched to a new resident bringing down some of her leftover crafting supplies — wood, stencils, paint.

I chose to do a stencil project.

Others worked on pre-printed canvases.

Buttons, our 88 year old that lives alone and is always on the go …… takes the public bus to the catholic church and a shuttle to the Senior Center to take classes/participate in activities at those places; and is a crafter — knits, crochets, writes poetry, plays bingo with pretty buttons, outdid all of us by painting a little wooden tray, then painting little wood flowers to display in the tray.

Returning to my unit before the rain began, positioning myself in front of the never-ending needlepoint to put in some time on that project, I flipped on the craft lamp and found it didn’t turn on.

Fortunately, I had a replacement bulb.

Unfortunately, the replacement didn’t work. The lamp still would not turn on.

The lamp, which had seen better days and was literally being held together with electrical tape, had died. So, I took it to the dumpster, ordered a replacement and then began to bemoan the fact I’d not be able to see clearly enough to do any needlepoint work.

Until …… I remembered the sun lamp I’d ordered when lousy weather dragged on for so long that I’d experienced an episode of SAD (seasonal affective disorder).

Thing was, after last Halloween I’d turned that sun lamp into a skeleton lamp.

Not wanting to undo Skelly the skeleton from the structure in order to use the sun lamp as a craft lamp until the new lamp arrives, I made it work.

While in the Community Room, I got an update on Painted Rock Lady.

I’d posted yesterday that I didn’t see Fire Rescue take her away on a stretcher. Turns out, I didn’t see that because an ambulance had earlier arrived, taken her away.

Talker had gone over to check on her, found her lying on the floor, called an ambulance. Both the amulance and Fire Rescue responded.

Painted Rock Lady has been calling friends from the hospital, saying she wants to recouperate at home, rather than in the hospital.

Since being found on the floor signifies she obviously can’t do that living alone as she does, friends are urging her to go to rehab.

My guess is Painted Rock Lady feels the end is near, doesn’t want that end to come in the hospital or rehab, but at home. She’s been around long enough to know the pattern — that when residents go to rehab, we rarely see them return.