LET'S SHOP!

IF YOU PLAN CAREFULLY, you don't have to leave the Manor to go shopping. The Manor store is open 2 mornings a week, Tuesdays and Saturdays from 9:30 until 11. The stock is interesting and understandably geared to the geriatric set. I'm much more drawn to the snacks in the lower right than in the assortment of incontinence products at the upper left. I've taken advantage of the instant coffee and peanut butter and am a big consumer of Kleenex products. 

 Martha and Irene were volunteering the day we used our camera. 35 years ago we met Martha on a European cruise arranged by our church, so she's known Tim from the time he was 14 and now enjoys seeing him when he visits at age 49.

They have an efficient system, whereby one writes up the purchases and the other takes the money and bags the items. 

 The selection of cards is good and amazingly reasonable in price. When I started my retail career, greeting cards averaged 25¢ and 35¢ in price and nowadays $2.99 isn't shocking to most folks. The Manor's cards are mostly $1 which makes it affordable to slip one under the door when a resident has a birthday, which is the custom here. Come to think of it, that's a good form of exercise, bending and retrieving on one day of the year.

 I think I cornered the market on one of their selections recently. The front showed a drawing of a cowboy holding a gun and the words "ANOTHER YEAR" and on the inside were the words, "SHOT TO HELL". It struck my funny bone and was good for men to boot.


"We know we're getting old when the only thing we want for our birthday is not to be reminded of it."  ~Author Unknown

TALES OUT OF SCHOOL

I'M NEVER SURE what's okay to tell and what isn't. My purpose isn't to betray confidences and I try not to include anything that would embarrass the subject. Once in a while, I look out over one of our public rooms and am overwhelmed by a feeling of love.......a fierce love for those of us in our collective family here at the Manor........yes, even the ones with whom I don't resonate. The loveable, the unloveable, the complainers, the beams of sunshine. Human nature shows all around, perhaps the more so in the elderly.

Midge has a piano in her room and hopes that no one hears her practice.

Dot, at the left, is from the East Coast originally. She's as avant-garde as anyone here.
Helen and her Baptist minister husband, Rudy; Helen had a stroke back in the 80s and is one of the most cheerful people at the Manor.

Darling Glenys who claims to feel physically awful 100% of the time but always has a smile and a caring for others.

MaryMil, our newest resident, is a delight and is thrilled with the food served here. 

Ernestine, to the left, is the Residents' secretary and Evelyn is the organizer of the group of wise women known as "The Crones". Ernestine is a Crone, too.

Lola is about as big as a minute. She loves opera on the radio and once when told by a male resident to turn the volume down told him, "No and you can just get used to it."

Helen, to the right, is scheduled for cataract surgery a week from today. 

All of these pictures were taken last night at our monthly birthday dinner. Here Diana, Sona and Verjik sing in celebration.

Lucky us! It was gooooooood!

TOO MUCH TO TELL YOU

HERE IT IS, Christmas Eve and time is getting short and there's so much to share with you that I'm putting it all in one posting.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

My clever brother sent this picture to the guests that came to his house for dinner. He's a fabulous cook and I'm jealous of his abilities. He also sent me this link and I'm passing it along to you:

hhttp://www.carlsonschool.umn.edu/holiday11/

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

This is the Big Bertha radiation machine that Mr. Bob visits five days a week. When he's accomplished 35 treatments, he'll be through. Fingers crossed, prayers uttered.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

The next picture was taken months ago. Mr. Bob's hair has grown back so nicely that he required a trim yesterday. Our daughter, Susan, asked that he please see that his Andy-Rooney type eyebrows get some attention.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Owen, returning to the Oakland Airport at night, following 4 stimulating days in Florida, visiting theme parks with all their wonders, looked out the window as the plane was descending and observed, "Wow! Planet Earth!"

           ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞


The following is another "old" photo from the archives. We'll be around this table at 4 this afternoon to celebrate Mr. Bob's birthday whether he likes it or not. Remember, he's definitely not big on birthdays, his own or anyone else's.

But on Thursday evening, the guest mariachi band encircled him and serenaded the birthday boy.

  Here's the evidence:

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Another from my brother:

http://www.wimp.com/glassharp/

A HAPPY MEMORY

I WISH I COULD REMEMBER if I've already told you about Mr. Bob's fiftieth birthday surprise party. Somewhere there are photos that could be scanned but I don't know how to lay my hands on them.

We rarely entertained in our own home. I envied hostesses who knew how to do it, but alas, I was not one of them. But that year, I got it into my head that a grand celebration was called for and I arranged to stage it in Glendale's Civic Auditorium.

I planned for it to be a month after his Christmas Eve birthday, the better to fool him and Christopher designed the invitation and then the flyer that we sent through the mail, announcing that a Square Dancing class was starting. We mailed it only to ourselves and to my mother's address, just down the street. She had died the October before, but her mail was forwarded to our house. Sometimes I think it's shameful to be so good at deception. It took a little doing, but I talked Mr. Bob into attending.

My plan was to invite every person we knew........friends, relatives, bookshop customers who had evolved into friends, everyone with whom Mr. Bob worked at the Times Mirror Press, where he helped to print telephone books and Auto Club maps.  At the time we were very active at church and all of those people received invitations with the request to bring a favorite dish. I supplied an enormous ham, a mountainous green salad and a king-sized chocolate birthday cake. That was the first time I became aware that people want to be told what to bring to a potluck or in school, students want to be given a more specific assignment than being told to write about anything they wish.



If memory serves me correctly, I had to arrange for a bartender or two, a security guard, a square dance caller who specialized in helping people who had never indulged in that particular amusement.. 150 people came. I arranged for them all to be given kazoos.

On the night of the "class", Mr. Bob stopped at the service station across from the auditorium and for the first time ever, decided to figure out his gas mileage before we left the gas pump. I was ready to jump out of my skin. When at last we drove into the parking lot, Mr. Bob made the observation that square dancing certainly didn't draw as many participants as the ballroom dance lessons we'd attended.

As we entered the auditorium, "Happy Birthday" greeted us on all those kazoos. I remember how overwhelming it was to me, the planner, to see all those beloved, familiar faces. I can't imagine what Mr. Bob's reaction was; he's not now and never has been one to talk about his feelings. His hairdresser sister from up north grabbed him, put a beautician's cape on him and sprayed his hair silver for the occasion.




It was a splendid evening with a wonderful cross section of people. I remember wondering how it would seem for Jesus to square dance with a vice president of Lockheed Aircraft, but it worked beautifully as an ice breaker.

All too soon it was over. And now it's just a memory; for me at least, a happy one.

“Middle age is the time when a man is always thinking that in a week or two he will feel as good as ever.”  
                                                                 ~ Don Marquis

REVELRIES

THERE HAVE BEEN SEVERAL DAYS full of celebration and I'm ready to settle down and get back to normal for a while, but I'll soon be chomping at the bit again to do something out of the ordinary. That's the way I am. Mr. Bob would be happy if life just went on in an even keel, with no highs or lows. Sometimes I wish I were that way.

On Thursday last, it was my 77th birthday. I do like double numbers, maybe because I was born on 5-5. There were cards                 of well wishes slipped under the door

and some arrived in the mail, a remarkable amount, really. And enchiladas for midday dinner and churros for dessert (the other choice was flan and I don't "do" flan) and then a mariachi trio played in the afternoon, not due to my birthday but because it was Cinco de Mayo, which in Los Angeles is a big deal. That evening we went with Tim and a couple who live here in the Manor (which is no longer a Manor....."they" say it'll be 5 years before we stop calling it that)  to a nearby restaurant and ate far too much but the food was excellent.








On Saturday, we attended a 50th wedding anniversary for people we've known nearly forever. Gloria and I went to high school together. One of the pictures on their board reminded me of when I was thinner and glasses were big. Sigh........ the cake was from Porto's which I've told you about and filled with mango mousse, it was sinfully delicious.

We saw people from years past.The weather was perfect for enjoying an outdoor buffet. The years have passed so quickly. We remembered

our younger days and I don't
know about Mr. Bob, but I was reminded that the old gray mare, she ain't.......well, you know the rest.

But there was still more celebrating to do for Mother's Day on Sunday (it rarely falls so close to my birthday......sorry, kids)

I'd made reservations for brunch, so it wasn't exactly what one could call a lazy Sunday as we donned our clothes to get to the restaurant at 9 a.m. where we enjoyed the company of our usual Sunday morning companions, Diane and Roger and our longtime friend, Fiona, who was the one who urged me to open a store back in the 1960s. I paid attention and followed her suggestion, ran it for 37 years before selling it and Fiona, to this day, still maintains her antique shop, going in every day. She's amazing.

Susan and I texted back and forth over a distance of 5000 miles and when we returned home there was an FTD box from our eldest, leaning importantly against our door. Tim remained jolly through all those festivities. God bless him.......that's a lot of Parent Days for someone who enjoys his solitude.

All we ate and drank on those days made me realize that the Manor is a very good place for us to live, where we're not as overfed as cattle in a stockyard. Now it's time to return to reality, but all that celebrating was fun. 

My brother, when he was little, had a saying when he wanted something repeated: "Make it again go", he'd say. Amen

NAME CHANGE

LET'S SEE if I can make sense of this story. You remember, no doubt, when I wrote about the name change of Southern California Presbyterian Homes. On April 26, it became a be.group community. Some of us are going along with it easily; others are enraged at the idea of losing the word "Manor" in our name. Henceforth we shall be known as "Windsor" or be.Windsor. I highly recommend going to the site and viewing the video.

Last Wednesday, Dan Hutson came from the corporate office to explain further about the name change. Of course the residents who are against it, didn't show up. I've toyed with the idea of changing the name of the blog to

"be.Attitudes" which would be equally appropriate, but the  

name Manorisms was thought

up by Lisa and it's just too good to change, methinks.

So, we listened and were surprised that this blog was mentioned..........in fact Mr. Hutson looked in my direction and said he liked my watercolors which caused me to look over my shoulder to see who he meant. Later I opened my computer and clicked on the tag, "watercolors" and discovered that I'd put a link to a whole page of nearly everything I've ever painted, but who would have thought a business man would have the time to peruse such a thing?

and so it went. We were given a little brochure which puts forth the concept of the name change.


The next day was my birthday and when I awakened it was to find Mr. Bob scrabbling through his dresser drawers in search of something which he never did locate. Seems he'd hidden my birthday card so well that he had to improvise and here is what he handed me:

Can you make it out? He's added my name to "the art of being".








On the inside was printed
"be yourself"
and he added "today on your birthday and many more.
Love,
Bob"


Clever man (he tries so hard to make me think he's just an average joe without much intelligence). However, about an hour after he gave me this card I came back into the room and made a phone call, which upset him no end, for it interfered with yet another news program he was watching. So much for being myself.

PORTO'S

We absolutely love Porto's Bakery. Our local newspaper ran an article about it today. "Read all about it", as the corner newsboys used to shout.

When we moved to the Manor, my plan was to celebrate the birthdays of friends by inviting them to our new abode and serving them a piece of a Porto's cake, then sending them home with the leftovers, after I, myself, had a piece. That worked for a little while and then as so often happens in my experience, the tradition faded into the background. Perhaps I should reinstitute the practice.

Admittedly, it's a sneaky way to eat my cake, just one piece at a time. When I have forbidden food in the house, no matter how well I hide it, there's a quality of "The Tell-Tale Heart" about it, as its presence throbs in a nearly audible manner.

It's a simple matter to order by telephone, with barely any wait at the counter considering how busy this successful place is. Right then and there, whoever is waiting on me writes the personalized greeting on the cake, I pays my monies and am on my way.

People come from miles away to visit this place and the positive energy within the bakery is a marvel to experience. I've never seen a squabble or heard a cross word, even though in the regular line the wait can be long. I pass the time by visiting with the person next to me and asking how far they've traveled to get there and what their favorite item is.

Another month will pass before I celebrate my own birthday, but I'm getting in the mood to sin. A doctor I saw recently advised "If it tastes good, spit it out." Not on that day, I won't.