With Age Comes Wisdom And Improvising

The dishwasher was full of clean dishes. And I do mean full! There wasn't a spoon to be had in the silverware drawer. It was 8:30 p.m. and about time for Mom to start rummaging in the kitchen to find a snacky-doo as an after dinner treat. She likes Jello Pudding cups because they are one of the few things she can "make" on her own. That is, pull the foil cover off.

Then I hear a very familiar jing-a-ling-aling. She's heading my way to sit on the couch here in the computer room. She sits behind me and I keep hearing the jingling. I turn around and she has the pudding and she's going to eat it with measuring spoons. We have metal measuring spoons attached to each other on a ring that I still use when I'm cooking or baking. Now these spoons are old. (All together now) How old are they? I swear they date to pre-historic times. (Rim shot) I know, not very funny, but didn't you like that show The Match Game? I miss my Game Show Network on satellite tv where they still re-run it.

But I digress. I snatched the tablespoon from her hand before she got it dirty and retrieved a clean one from the dishwasher. I suppose I should be happy that she improvised with the measuring spoon. My neighbor told me a story that she was throwing a picnic and her mother, who was afflicted with Alzheimers at the time before she died, was digging into the potato salad with her bare hand.