DeJa’Vu All Over Again

I woke up this morning at 0545 thinking that it’s been a while since I shared something with all of you. This caused my brain to swirl (counterclockwise) with myriads of possibilities for topics to address. I lay there for a while, waiting for the swirling to stop, but it never did, so I extracted myself from bed and headed for the kitchen where I found a fairly fresh baked loaf of bread. This caused the swirling to stop and shift into a more immediate need for sustenance in the form of peanut butter toast. Since I’d not had any in a while, I toasted two slices of bread while I looked for the cat.

Yeah, I know. Looking for the cat really doesn’t have anything to do with toasting bread. It’s just that while toasting is going on there’s a period of idle time that required me to be doing something, so I looked for the cat. She had to eat, too. I didn’t find her right away, but had time to put some kitty bisque in her bowl with the optimistic belief that she would show up and, she did. Right on time.

By the time I go my toast buttered, and got settled in my chair, she was done eating and looking for a lap to nap in. Actually, it’s more like a lap to shed hair and lick herself all over. During these times it’s necessary to keep one hand on her to keep her away from my toast. She likes peanut butter. I give her a little lick once in a while by swiping some on one of the fingers of my cat hand, risking dozens of diseases, while I gobble my toast. By the time I’m done, so is she and she settles down for a short nap.

It’s a short nap because guilt creeps into my head as I think about Diane sitting alone with her mother. Now, sitting with Mom isn’t all that difficult, but she isn’t much of a lap person which makes me feel like I have the advantage. Cutting the cat nap short by standing, thereby removing the lap, I ready myself for the trip down the hill.

Another reason I scurry down the hill is because I know Diane has a pot of coffee brewing and I need some. It’s a horrible affliction but I read somewhere that coffee is good for the heart. Choosing to believe that, I imbibe every morning.

The weather here in the Pacific Northwest is very wet right now. And, it’s getting colder as winter sneaks up on us.

The foregoing words reflect pretty much every day now. It was started on December 6th and the only thing that’s changed is that I don’t often find fresh home baked bread and I don’t eat peanut butter toast every day – just once in a while.

Since Diane stays nights with her mom, I’m the designated cook for both of them. That’s really just a continuation of our arrangement before Diane changed home addresses and that’s OK. I like to cook and doing that, as I’m sure I’ve reported previously, means I don’t have to clean up the mess I make. Still, I’m careful not to make it too messy

Today is Thursday, December 16th, the day some of us fellows from church meet for coffee at the Kozy Korner Cafe. Regarding that, I’m curious to know why it isn’t the Kozy Korner Kafe. Makes more sense and doing so would allow me to shorten the name to K3. As it is it’s a more complicated K2C. Just a thought.

The Girls who wait on us at the Kozy, Kerry and Kerry are the best. They deliver coffee to us without us having to ask. We sit down and full coffee cups appear like magic. It’s kind of interesting that toward the end of summer I ran across one of the Kerry’s at Safeway and didn’t recognize her until she said “Kozy”. I knew I knew her, but the synapses weren’t firing correctly. She understood the look of confusion on my face as I struggled to say her name. Very odd. I’m sure that’s the kind of confusion people who have dementia suffer. Well, that’s me. Diane tells me I have dementia so it must be true. Instead of worrying about it I just embrace it even though it makes Diane cranky. It’s easier to ask than to remember.

She doesn’t like me asking her to repeat things to me that she’s shared in the past, and I know it’s true; but I also know that Diane remembers stuff and I don’t hesitate to ask.

Considering all off that, perhaps dementia should be spelled DeMen’Tia, kinda like DeJa’Vu. Or, just get rid of the word dementia and stick with DeJa’Vu since that’s pretty descriptive for the malady.

Looks like it’s time to stop this nonsense.

I hope everyone is well and looking forward to a blessed Christmas.

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