Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Posts tagged ‘dementia’

Pizza in a Bowl

I don’t know if I’m getting a touch of dementia, just getting older, or what. Lately I seem to be dropping things more, and some goofy little incidents are happening — not necessarily due to me, but some might be. Call me a klutz!

The other morning, we came home to find water streaming from the water dispenser on the front of our refrigerator. While my husband diagnosed the problem and I tried to assist, I was hurriedly going into our bedroom and my foot knocked the cat’s food and water tray, causing water to spill all over the floor. So my hubby and I were both cleaning up water. Then I tried to roll up our window shade some more, and it got stuck at the lowest level, without being able to roll it up again. Three or four days later, my husband fixed it. All these incidents within one morning hour!

The other day, I decided to fix pizza for dinner. We usually buy them frozen from the grocery, adding several more toppings, because the toppings you get are a little paltry for our taste. So I added pepperoni, mushrooms, sliced olives, and a bit of pico de gallo. Soon the oven was heated and I slid the pizza in, anticipating a mouth-watering treat. When the timer went off, you could hear me exclaim, “Oh, no!” I had forgotten to remove the bottom cardboard from the pizza. (Most of the grocery pizzas we buy don’t have cardboard underneath.) It smelled delicious, but the dough was fused into the cardboard. We salvaged what we could by spooning it into bowls. It was quite yummy, so now I want to resurrect a recipe I used to make for crustless pizza. Please do share if you have a favorite one!

At the Laundromat

Sixty washers and sixty dryers,
All going ’round in circles,
Never ending …

Until a buzzer rings,
Until the fat lady sings.

Here’s a family with two kids,
Here’s a senior, down on the skids —
Changing his clothes just after drying.

Here’s a young man just returned,
His clothes have disappeared, he learns,
Surprised and shocked, he looks around.

I’d wondered ’bout that lady who
Said, “Don’t know
Who these clothes belong to –
Are they mine?”

Well, eventually it was straightened out.
Indeed, she’d taken what was his
And into the dryer, along it went
Tumbling ’round and ’round, along with hers.

Next week, I visited once more.
The young man came inside the door.
I asked him if he’d got his clothes.

Of one pair socks, he was depleted,
He shrugged, not seeming too defeated —
Serenely accepting an item deleted.

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