The Polka.

Lois is 94 years old and is doing pretty well other than her complete lack of short term memory. She literally asks the same questions over and over and over and over. And over.

And over.

Today’s obsession was about Sedro-Woolley and I’m not at all exaggerating when I say that it’s probably the zillionth time that I’ve answered these same questions.

Lois: “Where did you grow up?”

Me: “Sedro-Woolley.”

Lois: “Do they do logging there?”

Me: “Yep. My grandpa was a logger.”

Lois: “Are there any cows?”

Me: “Yep. Lots of cows.”

Lois: “Do people dance there?”

Me: “Yes, people dance there.”

Lois: “I mean, like, do they GO to dances and do the polka and such?”

Me: “Yep, all the time.”

Lois: “Cuz sometimes dancing is against people’s religions. Do folks have religion in Sedro-Woolley? Is it ‘Cedar’ or Sedro…”

Me: “Sedro and yes folks have religion.”

Lois: “Well then they shouldn’t be dancing!”

Me: “I guess they’re not too worried about sinning.”

Lydia laughed: “Well that’s good because dancing the polka is fun!”

Me: “Yep. There’s nothing better.”

Pause.

Lois: “Where are you from…?”

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