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FireAnt of Flourish
Sep. 13th, 2023 09:09 pmYesterday was the Sparrowhawk's birthday! He was pleased to announce that he was eleventy-one in base eight! You do the math, ha ha. We tried to have a nice day in our sedate, elderly way. He wanted to go out to brunch at a Polish-adjacent diner on the west side. We made our way over there, only to find it was closed on Tuesdays. Who does that! Argh. Ah well. We went back across the river into downtown and visited a much more high-falutin' location we had also been curious about. This place serves everything with waffles, cocktails and coffee. It is very consumerist faux-hipster, but fun for a change. He had the Love Me Tender, which is a waffle anointed with peanut butter and adorned with bacon and bananas delicately glazed with caramel. I had the RBG, in which a chaste, delicate waffle is cut into four perfect triangles and covered with cream cheese, lox, and slivers of red onion, and decorated with a sprinkling of salmon roe and dill. It was quite delicious. We eschewed cocktails, but had the best cortados ever and returned home highly caffeinated. Later I texted a friend about the cortados, and autocorrect changed it to "crayfish," causing my friend to be perplexed as to how I got caffeine out of a crayfish. I tried again, and autocorrect changed it to "cortisone" this time. At least it was getting into the ballpark of mood-altering substances. Most of the evening's entertainment consisted of phone calls from the kids, plus a ceremonial viewing of "Pollyanna," who is one of the Sparrowhawk's role models. They're both adorable, golden-haired, and bring sunshine into people's lives.
Today was Madame day. My call to check on her availability went unanswered, so I was relieved to see her emerging from her garage when I arrived. She apparently had found the garage door opener, and said to herself as she climbed into the car, "Now, I will have to put this somewhere special . . ." Famous last words. Alas, she was not in very good shape. It transpired that she had another fall yesterday. She said she didn't go to the hospital, because she had a doctor's appointment scheduled, so she just had her arm, on which she fell, looked at there. I thought it was lucky she didn't break anything, although if she had, this doctor is the most awful quack and might not have noticed. Her poor arm is bruised all over, and she had difficulty lifting up her bandaged elbow. At her request, I had to readjust her hearing aid. She had it on backwards, and as a result, was not able to hear anything.
She has reached the stage of being crafty yet hapless, a combination that can occupy vast amounts of time. The crafty part was ordering a second latte, something she has never done before, and nursing it along until the very LAST minute. It was not until I said we were late and must go that she told me an aide was supposed to be arriving at two! By the time we got home, the aide had departed. At that point, Madame couldn't figure out where she put the famous garage door opener. She had a key that she tried to open the front door with, but it wasn't the right key. We had to go through her bag a couple of times before the errant door opener reappeared, the door was opened, and all was well. I had to text Mademoiselle to let her know about the mix-up. She rearranged the aide's schedule, so no harm done. Poor Mademoiselle must be beside herself! She's working hard to have Madame move to a safer place. It can't happen soon enough.
The Sparrowhawk chose pie instead of cake for his birthday. Since he was eleventy-one, I only had to put three candles on it. He had already eaten a piece for breakfast, so when the time came to sing the birthday song, it wasn't pie-us intactus, but pie all day long beats ritual purity any time.
Today was Madame day. My call to check on her availability went unanswered, so I was relieved to see her emerging from her garage when I arrived. She apparently had found the garage door opener, and said to herself as she climbed into the car, "Now, I will have to put this somewhere special . . ." Famous last words. Alas, she was not in very good shape. It transpired that she had another fall yesterday. She said she didn't go to the hospital, because she had a doctor's appointment scheduled, so she just had her arm, on which she fell, looked at there. I thought it was lucky she didn't break anything, although if she had, this doctor is the most awful quack and might not have noticed. Her poor arm is bruised all over, and she had difficulty lifting up her bandaged elbow. At her request, I had to readjust her hearing aid. She had it on backwards, and as a result, was not able to hear anything.
She has reached the stage of being crafty yet hapless, a combination that can occupy vast amounts of time. The crafty part was ordering a second latte, something she has never done before, and nursing it along until the very LAST minute. It was not until I said we were late and must go that she told me an aide was supposed to be arriving at two! By the time we got home, the aide had departed. At that point, Madame couldn't figure out where she put the famous garage door opener. She had a key that she tried to open the front door with, but it wasn't the right key. We had to go through her bag a couple of times before the errant door opener reappeared, the door was opened, and all was well. I had to text Mademoiselle to let her know about the mix-up. She rearranged the aide's schedule, so no harm done. Poor Mademoiselle must be beside herself! She's working hard to have Madame move to a safer place. It can't happen soon enough.
The Sparrowhawk chose pie instead of cake for his birthday. Since he was eleventy-one, I only had to put three candles on it. He had already eaten a piece for breakfast, so when the time came to sing the birthday song, it wasn't pie-us intactus, but pie all day long beats ritual purity any time.
