THIS

IT'S NOT POLITICS...IT'S PEOPLE

It takes a monster to kill children. But to watch monsters kill children again and again and do nothing isn’t just insanity—it’s inhumanity. -Amanda Gorman-

REPEAL THE SECOND AMENDMENT

WHAT WOULD ALI DO?

Borrowed from Ali Wentworth's Instagram
(Stolen is such an ugly word.)

I want to write like actress/writer Ali Wentworth. She can find the funny side of almost anything. I want to have the ability to have sharp, funny comeback lines that will stop people in their tracks. Make them either laugh or cry. Hopefully the former. (Although, in some instances, the latter would work too.)

I envision Ali Wentworth's glass to have the tiniest of hairline cracks in it. Her glass, I am sure, is full of snappy comebacks and a plethora of witty lines to handle whatever life throws at her.

Me?  (Well, have you read my blog?) not so much. My glass is not half, empty, half full, or cracked.  My glass has disappeared.  My thoughts, words. and emotions spilled out with nowhere to go. 

If Ali Wentworth had been blessed/with spastic CP, I have no doubt she would find humor in it. For example, when a new staff member saw her sitting naked in her shower chair, while they observed her being given a shower, Ali would probably say something like, "Shouldn't we go to the movies first? Share a tub of buttered popcorn?"

If a staff member called her the B-word under their breath I bet Ali would interpret it as a compliment instead of a vulgarity.  "Why thank you. A bit** is a female dog. I love dogs. I have two. Cooper and Daisy."  Yep. That line would stop them dead in their tracks. Leaving the offender speechless. Mouth agape. (The offending staff member has been reprimanded.)

Me? I collapse into a puddle of tears. My ugly cry leaves them secretly laughing at me. (Score one for the staff.)

I have a rich fantasy life. Hey, don't judge. It helps me cope with living here. (It's either that or a daily shot of Fireball. Making up scenarios in my head is more fun.)

 My current fantasy is that I am having lunch with Ali Wentworth. She has been asked to give the commencement address at a local university. I am honored to be lunching with her at Wasabi Sushi Bar. (Was there ever any doubt? California and Philadelphia rolls. Yum!)  I silently remind myself to remember to take small bites, to wipe my mouth frequently, and if any of my food needs to be cut up, ask the server, not Ali.

Ali is giving me some pointers on putting a dose of humor into my writing.  A serious blog post does not have to be all doom and gloom. I know this. Finding a balance is the key Ali is offering her advice regarding some comeback lines for the times the staff is rude to me as well. 

There is so much I want to ask her. A million topics are running through my head.

Best/worst thing about growing up in Washington, D.C.? 

When did she first realize she had a gift for making people laugh? 

Does she have plans to write another book?

Has she ever considered writing a novel?

How long is the writing process for one of her books?  

What makes her chocolate chip cookies unique?   

I want to learn from Ali Wentworth. I keep it professional. I don't want to sound like some geeky fangirl. I refrain from mentioning her husband.  Morning talk show host and political commentator for ABC News, George Stephanopoulos. No matter how intelligent and good-looking I think he is. (Did I just write that?  So much for keeping it professional.)

What would Ali do if she had spastic CP?

What does Ali try to do in her life?

She looks for and finds humor.

For More information on Ali Wentworth, and to add a little humor to your life, check out:

Books  https://www.amazon.com/Ali-Wentworth/e/B001KDS28I/ref=aufs_dp_fta_dsk

Podcast Go Ask Ali.  Available on all popular streaming platforms

Instagram  https://www.instagram.com/therealaliwentworth/

Her 2016 TV series, Nightcap, is currently streaming on Hulu

I BEG TO DIFFER

 

Thomas Wolfe's novel You Can't Go Home Again was published in  1940.  According to the website, Book Browse the title of his novel means "If you try to return to a place you remember from the past it won't be the same as you remember it."

 

I beg to differ.

Back in January, I sent an email to my top three of my besties. My nursing home peeps Julie, Chris, and Nancy. I asked them if they would celebrate my birthday with me.

I knew asking was presumptuous of me. That's why my finger hovered over the keyboard mouse, on my laptop for a few seconds before I clicked send.

Then the what-ifs began running through my head. What if they thought my request was a ploy just to get gifts? What if they were too busy? What if they just did not feel like making the trip?  What if sending that email turned out to be one of the most foolish things I'd ever done?

What was I expecting? My friends had moved on to new journeys in their lives. Even the nursing home had changed its name and management. Everyone and everything had changed except me. We all know you can't turn back the clock. That was, however, what I was hoping for. That was what I wanted more than anything.

And, that's exactly what I got. When my three besties arrived It was like we had never been apart. We talked. We laughed. Julie held my Margarita for me while I munched on vegan snacks. Chris called me Jojo, and, Nancy sat next to me. What more could I have asked for?  

Julie, Chris, and Nancy are like family to me. All three have been my sounding board and my advocate. They have defended me. They had also kicked my butt when I needed it. 

The three of them saw some of my worst moments when I lived in LTC. They could have washed their hands off me. They didn't. I am so grateful.

The hours the four of us spent together on that sunny Saturday in April, were some of the happiest I have had in a long time. I felt a genuine warmth. A sense of belonging. 

I was back in room 502 for a little while. Memories like these ran through my mind.

Chris walks by and throws something into my room. "What was that?  I asked her.  "A ball of snot, " she replies. "You get right back in here and pick that up," I yell. I punctuated my response with the expected,  "Eww." Chris runs back into my room, picks up the aforementioned ball of snot, also known as a wad of crumpled paper, and walks out the door laughing. 

Julie is listening to me ask the same burning question for the hundredth time that week. "Where's the Oikos Greek Yogurt? Yoplait is gross." She never once tells me my repeated questions are annoying to her. She explains to me for the hundredth that my fave yogurt has not come in yet. That same afternoon Juile asks me to play dietary bingo. Ugh.The things I do for my friends. I have to admit I had fun.

Nancy stops by my room before she goes home. We talk about my fear of getting a roommate now that I am on Medicaid.  "No, No, No. They're not going to give you a roommate." I know she is trying her best to keep me in my private room. I know her door is always open to me if there is a problem. If I just need to talk.  Knowing that makes me feel better.

I beg to differ Thomas Wolfe, sometimes you can go home again,

As I write this post I am wearing my sushi socks, I look over at my fridge adorned with photos of us. There are several more on the wall. Pictures of the three of us being goofy. Being us.

I love my sushi magnets. Who needs real sushi anyway? 

It was an awesome day with awesome friends. 

If I had not been a resident of LTC I never would have met them.

I would have missed out on their knowledge. I would have missed out on some new experiences. I would have missed out on their friendships