
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.
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