Sorry about your stroke, but I need to get to town...

The Rock Ridge bus goes to town every Friday morning for anyone who wants or needs to go shopping. It usually leaves at 9am. Today, at about 9:10, a resident came into my office to let me know the bus hadn't pulled up yet. She's aggravated (of course!) and continues to grumble about needing to get to the pharmacy.

Meanwhile, Bus Driver is with another resident.....who is having symptoms indicative of a TIA, or mini-stroke. We explain that Bus Driver is taking care of the urgent need of another resident. "Well," the bus-ride-waiting resident huffed. "She could have timed that better!"

Memo to self: Should you ever decide to have a stroke, be sure it is at the convenience of others.

* * * * *
Here's an email funny I received this morning. People send me old folk jokes all the time. Go figure!

Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her eighties and had never been married. She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all. One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room. She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea. As he sat facing her old Hammond organ, the young minister noticed a cut-glass sitting on top of it. The bowl was filled with water, and in the water floated, of all things, a condom! When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat. The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and he could no longer resist. 'Miss Beatrice', he said, 'I wonder if you would tell me about this?' pointing to the bowl. 'Oh, yes,' she replied, 'Isn't it wonderful? I was walking through the park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground. The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it would prevent the spread of disease. Do you know I haven't had the flu all winter.'

Fork You

Just like church, the dining room pretty much sees the same people sitting in the same places every day. There are no assigned seats here. Which I (perhaps mistakenly) tell each new Resident who moves in.

So New Resident decides to sit at "Maude's Table." Let me reiterate...THERE ARE NO ASSIGNED SEATS. There are no assigned tables. First come, first served. Sit wherever the hell you want. That kind of thing.

So, New Resident takes a seat. Maude comes to the table and proceeds to have a hissy fit that any two-year-old who wants candy at the check-out lane of the grocery store would admire. I try to calm Maude down, explaining that this is New Resident's first day here, and let's try to make her feel welcome, yadda yadda yadda, while pulling out a chair adjacent to New Resident for Maude to take a seat. Which she does.

Then, with as much hate as a pissed off 98-year-old white-haired lady can muster, she picks up her fork. She looks right at me. And sends the fork flying right at my head.

The Importance of being Prompt

I just breezed through the lobby and noticed a grumpy-looking resident.

"Good morning, Virginia!" says I.

Virginia responds with a short gutteral sound.

"What's wrong?" I query.

"My ride is three minutes late. She was supposed to be here at 9:10, and it's 9:13." She taps her watch. Looks completely put out.

"Isn't this her driving in now?" I ask.

"Yes, but that is so unlike her to be late. I've been waiting. I wonder why she is late. It's 9:13!" This woman is completely agitated.

I could say several things, but...Seriously!?! Three freaking minutes? And, yes, this is enough to have ruined Virginia's entire day. Wow.