When I got back from Zumba yesterday, I came home to a “not so happy” man. I could tell he was mad because he didn’t acknowledge me and was looking down at this finger nails. Here I was, all pumped up and happy, and he was “mad”. Humph! Well, I just walked into the kitchen, made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, poured him some milk and took it to him. I handed it to him, suggested he NOT be mad, and reminded him that I am the one who feeds him. Then, I popped upstairs to take my shower.
Being raised in the Air Force, I lived all over the world and experienced all different cult
ures. So, sometimes, I feel my insides getting all riled up to travel or to immerse myself in someplace else. So for one hour, I was off to Brazil via my Zumba class. Zumba take me away! Latin dance can shake the tension off of any rigid body. Our class is filled with women from marathoners to seniors and so packed that half the time I dance myself right into the wall. Carrrrrrrrrrrrumba! Kawabonga! Cha-cha-cha!
After, I got showered, I tried to reason with Jerry that I needed to go exercise so that I could stay healthy and take care of him. Now, reasoning with a dementia person is totally futile, but I thought I’d give it a try. After a lengthy session of rationalizing, I asked, “does that make sense?” He just looked straight ahead and said “where’s the dog”. Are you laughing? So, I just got him up, patted his hand, and said, let’s go.
Since I had the international bug, I figured we would have an “international day”. We first went to Ireland and visited our local Saint Patrick’s Day festival. Tons of people and tons of green beer. Too loud! We didn’t last long. (It wasn’t anything like the real Ireland.) But, it was sunny and a beautiful day to be out. The assorted whiffs of festival foods were tempting, but I figured sitting in a quiet place would be better. So we walked across the street to our local Mexican restaurant, where our Hispanic friends greeted us with open arms and soft smiles. Ordering for Jerry can be quite challenging. Since he doesn’t use his right arm, and sandwiches use both hands, a taco won’t do. He also doesn’t know what to do with a knife, so he needs to eat with only a fork. Augh! Here is is; soft tacos for me and enchiladas for Jerry, chips and salsa, and a margarita. Had to have it! Course, I completely negated the Zumba hour....but, hey!
It turned out to be a great day. Jerry was happy to have me all to himself. I was happy that he was happy.