Upbeat

In the gallery

I stopped in and woke Mom from a nap about 1:15 yesterday. She had a little bout of displacement: "How did you find me? All these places are just the same. All the buildings -- how did you find the right building?" I had biked and brought with me a new set of sheets -- she had torn one set -- and M, a great aid, said they had to be washed, and she would take care of it.

Mom bought me lunch in the Bistro -- a gyros and cooked carrots -- and we picked at it together and chatted. She was sharp and with it after she got going, and we spent a couple hours in the Bistro and up in her room. I read her the latest emails on Maureen's death -- such a sad thing -- and went through her papers.

Then we sat and talked. She pointed to a painting signed by Ellen R___, with the date " --41."  She said Ellen was her grandmother, who started painting in her 60s. Then she kind of rambled through her family history -- Ellen and her husband Hagbart (is that right?), a dentist. They lived in Thief River Falls, Minnesota, and their six or seven kids, all but one of them girls. I have a memory of a picture of these little blond girls with their hair all done, and the caption "five little angel heads."

One of them, O, was her mother. She married Melford, a big guy from college, who went to the seminary, and they moved from a parish in Groton, South Dakota (where Mom was born), to Red Wing, Minnesota, to Albert Lea, Minnesota. It was in Red Wing, which they left when she was 9 or 10, where she met Blanche -- "Hi for Blanche! Hi for Blanche!"

It was great, and she was on top of it, till she tired. A good visit.

And then today, to church. She wasn't ready by the door, as usual, and not in her room, and I finally found her doing the elliptical machine in the fitness center at 9:50 a.m. Church starts at 10, and I said,  "How about we skip it today," but she wanted to go, so I made her change her pants, and we got there about 20 minutes late, for her, and half-hour late for me after I found a place to park.

Brunch in the Bistro with Ms. Julie, then a quick stop in the room, and home. Again, she was pretty sharp. Maybe we have this med thing figured out.

The Oak Leaf Trail.
Therapy.