Her stamina being what it is (about three hours max), I brought her home last night for our Easter dinner and took her to church this morning, knowing the service would be long, she would enjoy the reception afterwards, but she wouldn’t be able to handle more after that.
Yesterday was beautiful. I had planned to take her to the park before supper, but once I got to WP she took half an hour to go to the bathroom and wash her hands, and there wasn’t time. So I took her and William on a wheelchair jaunt down the street a couple blocks and back. I gave her a little zippered cosmetic bag full of her favorite candies–licorice, nonpariels, and mints–hoping she could manage the zipper when she can’t handle most other closures.
She sang to William while I was cooking–Pack up Your Troubles and Daisy, Daisy are her favorites. I’m going to try to make a CD of her favorites if I can figure out how to pull them off the internet.
This morning she was ready for church and seemed to enjoy the service. I must say the music was exceptional. Three little girls came up to greet her at the Peace. She was delighted. Afterwards we “ate lunch” at the reception. Several people who recognized her made a point to say hello. She greeted them all with “I’m so glad to meet you.” I know they understood.
When I got her in the car to take her back to WP, she began a very animated story about a recipe for cucumbers she wanted me to have. It’s “in her desk, somewhere.” It was her mother’s and she never threw away anything that belonged to her mother. Her mother would put the cucumbers in a crock with this solution and skim off the foam that would develop.
Pickles, I asked? Yes, but different from most.
Did she can them? She couldn’t remember.
Did she also make them from cucumbers she grew in our garden on Usher Road? No, she said with distain. My father saw the foam and threw them out because they were “spoiled.” I have to find the recipe, because it’s the greatest thing to do with cucumbers.
I assured her I would look in her desk when I get a chance.
I didn’t tell her I hate cucumbers.