Funky Chicken.

JoeWhile I was getting Joe ready for bed last night, I discovered several morsels of chicken (leftover from dinner) wedged in his butt crack.

Me:  “Joe, may I ask you a question?”

Joe:  “Sure!”

Me:  “How did you manage to get chicken in your butt crack?”

Joe:  “What’s that you say??”

Me:  “There is chicken. In your butt crack. How did it get there?”

Joe:  “What the hell kind of question is that?!”

Me:  “It’s not so much of a question as it is an observation.”

Joe:  “Who invited you to observe my ass?”

Me:  “My boss. It’s part of my job description.”

Joe:  “Your job is to look at old men’s asses?”

Me:  “I wouldn’t phrase it quite that way but…Yes, I guess it is.”

Joe’s eyes got real big:  “Well that’s one Helluva deal!”

Me:  “Tell me about it.”

Joe:  “Now what was it we were talking about before?”

Me:  “I asked you how you got chicken in your butt crack.”

Joe chuckled:  “I guess I must’ve ran out of pockets!”

Salty Thingamajigs.

Lois the FinNothing like spending an hour putting together healthy Greek chicken pizza for our dinner (using the supplies that I paid for myself) just so that Lois can complain that it’s “okay, but I don’t know why you had to dump so much salt on it…”

I explained to her that the kalamata olives are what makes it salty, but that I used them sparingly, and the pizza is actually very healthy.

Lois:  “You can explain that to the doctor after I’ve had my heart attack from all of this salt.”

Me:  “I can make you something else…”

Lois:  “No, no, I’ve lived long enough anyhow.  Have you fed Baby?”

Me: “Yes, I put food out on the patio for her.”

Lois:  “You didn’t put any of those thingamajigs in her food, did ya?”

Me:   “No, of course not.”

Lois:  “Are you sure? Because she’s too young for a heart attack.”

Me:  “Yes, I’m sure.  I just gave her soft food.”

Lois:  “You didn’t pour a bunch of salt all over it, did you?”

Me:  “Lois…why would I add salt to Baby’s cat food?”

Lois:  “I was just making sure.”

Me:   “There are no salty thingamajigs on Baby’s food.”

Lois:   “Maybe I should trade her then.”

Ugh.

Survival.

JoeAfter eating a big lunch this afternoon, including dessert, I asked Joe if he’d had enough to eat.

Joe:   “I ate enough to survive.”

Dot:   “Aren’t you full? You should be full!”

Joe:   “I wouldn’t say I’m full so much as…I’m still alive.”

Okay then.

Dog Food for Supper.

joe_dotIt was extremely hot yesterday, so Dot suggested that I make something “cool” for supper.  When I looked in the refrigerator, I noticed that there were three large pieces of steak that were leftover from the BBQ that Dot attended with her daughters the night before, so I decided to make steak salad for supper.

Once I got both Joe and Dot seated at the dinner table, I poured each of them a glass of wine, and then I set their plates in front of them.  I had made fresh ranch dressing, so I poured a bit of it onto Joe’s salad, and he started digging in.  I notice that Dot was just sort of staring at her plate with a bewildered expression for a moment, but soon enough she was chowing down as well.

After we had all cleaned our plates, and I had served Joe and Dot their brownies and ice cream for dessert, Dot asked me where I got the steak.

Me:  “The steak was wrapped up in tin foil in the fridge.  It was your leftovers from the BBQ last night.”

Dot:  “Oh, I was wondering where it came from!  Now I remember…Julie (Joe and Dot’s oldest daughter) didn’t eat all of her steak, so she sent it home with me so that I could feed it to the dog!”

Me:  “Well I did feed the dog the scraps that were leftover.”

Dot:  “Oh well, it doesn’t matter.  Just don’t tell Julie…”

Me:  “Don’t tell Julie that I fed you guys dog food for supper?”

Dot:  “Yes, don’t tell her that.”

Joe:  “We had WHAT for supper?!?!”

 

My Sandwich.

JoeI love it when I’m at work and by the time I sit down to eat my lunch, Joe and Dot have already finished eating theirs, only Joe doesn’t remember eating his lunch, so when I step away to pour myself a glass of water, Joe helps himself to my sandwich…

Hollow Leg.

JoeAfter dinner tonight, I asked Joe if he’d had enough to eat.

Joe:  “Well…I don’t know…”

Dot:  “Oh you’ve had enough!  You ate all of your chicken and stuffing and salad and a big brownie.  You couldn’t possibly still be hungry!”

Joe:  “Well I don’t remember doing any of that.”

Dot:  “Well you did do that.”

Joe:  “Did you have enough to eat Dot?”

Dot:  “Yes!  I’m stuffed!”

Joe:  “Well I’m not sure what went wrong.  I could still eat something.”

Me:  “Wow Joe, you really must have a hollow leg tonight!”

Joe looked concerned:  “Oh god I hope not!  That sounds dangerous!”

Germs.

JoeJoe and Dot ate the last of the crab that their son brought home from the Oregon Coast for lunch today.  When lunch was over, Dot told Joe to go wash his hands.

Joe:  “I don’t need to wash ’em.  They’re already clean!”

Dot:  “How could they be clean?  They have crab juice all over them!”

Joe:  “I washed them already.”

Dot:  “No you didn’t!  I was sitting right here.  I would know if you went to the sink and washed your hands.”

Joe:  “I didn’t go to the sink.”

Dot:  “I know you didn’t!  You need to go wash your hands at the sink now.  Go!”

Joe:  “I don’t need to go to the sink.  I washed my hands already.”

Dot:  “Oh yeah?  What’d you wash them with?”

Joe:  “I licked my fingers.”

Dot:  “You can’t just lick your fingers.  That’s not the same as washing them in the sink.”

Joe held up his hands:  “Look at my hands.  Do they look dirty to you?”

Dot:  “They don’t have to LOOK dirty to BE dirty.”

Joe cracked up:  “Shows how much you know.”

Dot:  “I know plenty about it.”

Joe:  “Okay then, it’s all settled.”

Dot:  “Yep, it will be all settled once you go to the sink and wash your hands!”

Joe:  “I don’t need to wash my hands.  I already licked ’em!”

Chocolate Pudding.

Dot has been saying that no one makes their own pudding anymore, and she insists that the kind that you mix up yourself is so much better than the kind in the “tiny” containers at the grocery store, so I decided to whip up some do-it-yourself chocolate pudding last night for dessert.

If I had known how excited Joe and Dot would be when I put a big bowl of chocolate pudding in front of each of them, I would have started making pudding a long time ago!  You would’ve thought it was Christmas morning if you could have seen the looks on their faces when I put a dollop of whipped cream on the top.  They both grabbed their spoons and dove right it.

Dot:  “Isn’t this the BEST PUDDING YOU’VE EVER HAD, Joe?”

When Joe looked up at her, his mouth and chin were covered in chocolate pudding.

Joe shrugged:  “Yeah, it’s alright.”

Dot:  “Did you make this yourself?”

I nodded.

Dot:  “I just can’t even believe that people are too lazy to even make their own pudding these days, because it’s SO MUCH better this way!”

Me:  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

Dot noticed that I wasn’t eating any pudding, so she said, “Aren’t you going to have any?”

Me:  “No, I cheated on my diet during Thanksgiving, so now I’m back on track and trying to be good, so I’d better not.”

Dot shook her head:  “Well that’s just no way to live.”

Joe looked up at me with big eyes and a chocolate-covered face:  “You can’t have pudding after Thanksgiving?  Is that kind of like how you’re not supposed to wear white after Labor Day…?”

I laughed:  “Yeah, something like that Joe.”

Practical Joke.

I woke up at 2am this morning, because I could hear Lois rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.  Quickly, I put on my slippers and stumbled toward her with my eyes only half open.

Me:  “What are you doing, Lois?”

Lois was full of energy:  “Well Good Morning!  How are you today?”

Me, rubbing my eyes:  “Lois, it’s only 2 in the morning, what are you doing up?”

Lois:  “Oh, I just needed a little snack.”

And that was when I fully became aware of what was happening.  There was Lois,  clothed only in a white tank top, a pair of Depends, and slippers.  But that wasn’t the strange part.  The strange part was that she had her face and her head completely wrapped up with one of her sweaters, and all I could see were the whites of her eyes.

Me:  “Um, Lois…?  Is your head cold?”

Lois:  “Well it was…but it isn’t anymore.”

Me:  “Lois, you’re going to catch a cold if you stand in front of the refrigerator in your underwear.  Can I help you with something?  What kind of a snack do you want?”

Lois:  “Oh, I don’t know…anything…PUMPKIN PIE!”

She shouted so suddenly that I jumped.

Lois laughed:  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Me:  “That’s okay.  Would you like whipped cream on it?”

Lois:  “Well of course whipped cream.  You can’t have pumpkin pie without whipped cream!”

Me:  “Of course not.”  I pulled everything that I needed out of the fridge, when Lois decided that she needed her pie to be heated up.  (Lois does not have a microwave, so heating anything up takes FOREVER.)

Me:  “Lois, since it’s 2 in the morning, would you mind just eating your pie cold?  Midnight snacks are always cold.”

Lois:  “But this pie is so OLD!  I could get sick if I eat it before it’s warmed up!”

Me:  “I bought the pie from Fred Meyer yesterday.  It’s not too old.  Plus, just so you know, I would give my left foot to be able to eat a cold piece of pumpkin pie right now, but I can’t since I’m on a ‘no-sugar’ diet, so I will just have to live vicariously through you.”

Lois:  “You like COLD pumpkin pie?”

Me:  “Yes I do.  It’s my absolute favorite.  Well, next to cold pizza.”

Lois looked a bit suspicious, but after she thought about it for a minute she smiled:  “Well, okay then.  For you…”

Me:  “Thank you, Lois.  One thing though…”

Lois:  “What’s that?”

Me:  “You’re going to have to uncover your mouth if you’re going to eat your snack.”

Lois laughed:  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that!”  I helped her to unwrap her head.

I laughed:  “You know, I didn’t want to say anything, but you should see yourself right now. (This may seem unusual, but Lois is still at a stage in her dementia where she can snap out of it with the right cues.)  You have your entire head wrapped up in your sweater, but you’re practically naked everywhere else!”

Lois felt around for her bare arms and legs and then she cracked up:  “Boy, I must be quite a sight!  You know…Sometimes I think that old age is just God playing a practical joke on us.”

Me:  “You think so, huh?”

Lois:  “Well yeah, I mean the urine alone would be enough to keep Him entertained!”

The Winemaker.

When I walked into Joe and Dot’s house this week, I was carrying 2 bottles of cranberry wine that I had purchased for them during last week’s trip home to Seattle.  Joe and Dot love wine, and I knew that it would be perfect to serve at their son’s house for Thanksgiving dinner this year.

Of course when I walked in, Joe greeted me by turning to Dot and asking her:  “Who’s that girl?”

Dot:  “Her name is Whitney, she’s here to take care of us.”

Joe:  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me!”

Dot:  “Well, she’s also going to cook for us.”

Joe:  “She’s gonna cook?”

Dot:  “Yes, and she’s an excellent cook!”

Joe:  “She IS?  Well, how the hell do you know that?”

Dot:  “Because she’s cooked her before.”

Joe looked at me suspiciously:  “SHE HAS?!”

Me:  “Yep. Lots of times.”

Joe:  “But isn’t she the Wine Lady?”

Dot:  “No, her name is WHITNEY!”

Joe:  “Oh okay.  Whitney, the Winemaker.”

Me:  “Well, I didn’t actually make this wine, Joe.  I just bought it at the winery.”

Joe:  “So the Winemakers sent you?”

Dot rolled her eyes.  I just smiled and said, “Yep, the Winemakers sent me.”

Joe:  “Oh okay, why didn’t you say so in the first place?  I’d never turn away a Winemaker!”

For the rest of the week Joe referred to me as the “The Wine Lady” and I just went with it.  It is kind of catchy:  “Whitney, the Winemaker”.

Perhaps I missed my calling…