Wednesday, April 11, 2007
What is dementia, anyway?!?...
...let alone, what I refer to as "Dementia-Lite", which is the label I assign to my mother's dementia? My internal definition of my mother's dementia changes all the time. A curious little article in today's Arizona Republic Arizona Living section led me to, once again, reconsider this question. The article is entitled (as you can see if you click into the immediately previous link) So you think you're as smart as a 5th grader, written by Richard Ruelas, a frequent feature writer for this paper. The article is copyrighted, I'm sure, by Arizona Republic and, I assume Richard Ruelas. [Take note if you decide to click into the article: The Arizona Republic online apparently archives articles for only seven days.] After an enjoyable introduction, addressed to readers as though they are taking the test with a group of their peers, the article lists 15 questions taken from a recent A[rizona]I[nstrument to]M[easure]S[tandards] test administered universally to all Arizona 5th graders. The test is administered across the board to a variety of grades and one must pass the high school version in order to graduate. The point of the article is to entertainingly familiarize people with the content of AIMS tests. It's set up so that readers can take the 15 question test and compare their answers with the correct ones at the end, then rate themselves according to how 5th graders are rated.
Yes, I took the test; once a year the state paper usually publishes part of one of the AIMS tests and I always take them. Yes, I exceed 5th grade standards, which means I answered all the questions correctly, and, I might add, all figuring for the math portion was done in my head. I mention this because the article leads one to believe that actual students taking actual tests must "show your work".
After reading the article and taking the test I wondered how a random sample of adults would do on the test, considering the old saw that most public media in the U.S., at least, is written to comply with fourth grade standards of reading comprehension. As well, I was particularly interested in what results question #2 would yield (hold your horses, I will include a copy of the test, the answers and the scoring scale), considering that it requires the testee to separate observation from opinion, which is something many children and adults find difficult. I decided to write Mr. Ruelas and suggest that such an experiment be launched by the Arizona Republic.
As I was writing him, it occurred to me that it might be interesting to administer the test to my mother. I thought, even if the test proved a little too problematic for her, she'd want to familiarize herself with what 5th graders are expected to learn these days. She responded to my suggestion enthusiastically.
We had a few obstacles to overcome. The print was too small for her to successfully read, although she thought she was reading it successfully until I asked her to read the first question, over which she was inordinately lingering, out loud and discovered her difficulty, so I read them to her as she read along silently. This wasn't always necessary, though, especially for some questions in the math section. For the math questions involving fractions, I read the answer choices to her. For the math questions involving selecting a formula, I wrote the formulae in large for her. There was one question (I'll note it as I write out the questions here) in which I visibly winced when she picked the wrong answer, thus she changed her answer. I asked her if she'd changed it because I winced.
She responded, "Oh course! I'm no dummy!" There were three remaining choices, though, so her alternate choice could have been wrong, but it wasn't.
Following are the test questions. I'll note Mom's answers with a bullet after each question and, if applicable, any special circumstances regarding the question.
Reading
My mother missed questions 2, 6 and 11. It took her 30 minutes to complete the test. She did all math figuring in her head except for question #13. When she figured this question she worked, as is proper, from the inside brackets out. I noticed, while she worked, that she breathed a bit heavier than usual when sitting, although she was already on continuous flow oxygen (her allergies were acting up, today, and clogging her nose). I thought this was interesting. I took it as an indication that brain work does, indeed, consume lots of oxygen, whether or not one is demented. When I pointed out which answers were incorrect, upon which she insisted, she reviewed each question, the answers, and commented on what her figuring failures were. Her comment on her failure on #6 was particularly interesting: "Ah," she said, "I figured the area instead of the, the..." her finger described a rectangle in the air.
"Perimeter?" I provided.
"Yes, that's right. It was on the tip of my tongue."
When she was told that her answer for 11 was wrong, she argued that "all" the numbers in that list are factors of 56. I diverted her back to the question, underlined the word "all" and pointed out that the phrase was "all the factors of 56", not "all the numbers in the list are factors of 56", which, I mentioned, would have rendered three of the answers correct. She understood and, on her own, corrected her answer.
My mother's performance this afternoon on the above test certainly calls into question the definition of senile dementia. If I hadn't decided to try this test on her I would have assumed the test to be beyond her abilities based on what I know about her dementia. I would have been wrong. Her successful negotiation of this test, though, doesn't also mean that she will begin to remember who's dead and who's not, nor that she'll remember what movies she's seen and which she hasn't, or the contents of the latest book chapter I've read to her, nor which books she's read and which she hasn't. She won't remember how to use the microwave. She won't remember how to feed herself in a healthy and timely manner. She'll continue to have problems remembering to hydrate herself, or to get herself to the bathroom before she wets her paper underwear. I would be a fool to ever again return her financial business into her hands, or, for that matter, the keys to the car, or allow her to answer the phone.
It is strange and amazing to me what her mind can do, what it can't and the conditions under which she can sometimes successfully pursue certain mental activities and sometimes not. At this time in her life I have more respect for her intelligence than I ever had, primarily because the patterns of how her mind works are now overt, easily observable. Even when her mind isn't working in a way that the rest of us would consider normal, it still struggles to work in the same manner it did before she developed vascular dementia. More often than I usually expect and much to my continued surprise (although never to hers), her mind is, well, slow, yes, but successful.
Most of the material I read and hear about dementia is about one subset: Progressive Alzheimer's. I'm sure this is because it's the most dramatic and the most devastating. Watching my mother, though, living with her, I can't help but wonder how many people, elders, Ancient Ones, whose dementia is far less spectacular, devastating and progressive than Alzheimer's are being diagnosed and treated as though they have Alzheimer's and it's surely and tragically progressive, but don't and it isn't. I remember when Mom was casually administered a stripped version of the MMSE when she left a hospital in June of 2004 after a blood transfusion. She didn't, of course, know the date, day of the week, month, year, the current President of the U.S., etc. During the session, as well, Mom repeatedly asked me why the flag she saw through the window was at half-mast. I answered her, as though her question was fresh, each time. I remember the outtake nurse smiling at me as though she understood something about my mother and was therefore able to empathize with what I imagine she thought of as my "plight". I also remember thinking, "This didn't tell you what you think it did, lady." This is also why I have never sought to have my mother take the official version of the MMSE. I shudder to think what people would assume about her, especially doctors, if they had the results of such an exam before them, thus limiting their ability to get to know who she really is on her terms.
A few weeks ago a good friend of mine, to whom I hadn't spoken in, hmmm, probably six months, called. She doesn't read these journals. After we excitedly greeted each other and renewed our bond she asked how my mother was doing. Before I could respond she said, her voice dripping with concern and sympathy, "Is it Alzheimer's?"
I was shocked because I know I've explained this to her since April of 2006 but, well, all she remembers is that my mother is demented. This cancels anything else I've said about my mother. "No," I said, and quickly explained that "it's" vascular dementia, is not progressive, has in fact, improved noticeably since her anemia has come under much better control. Her health isn't the best, I explained, she's slowed a lot, she requires the dedicated eye of a constant, familiar companion, but, no, "it's" not Alzheimer's.
The woman floundered. She knew what to say to someone whose care recipient has Alzheimer's. She had no idea what to say to me. I imagine one of her thoughts was, "Well, then, why is Gail even there?!?"
This, I think, is part of the vulnerability of the Ancient who have Dementia-Lite and, I imagine, other forms of dementia and physical ailments. Those of us who are confident that we are not demented nor close to the threshold of Ancienthood make a host of assumptions about who the Demented Old are and forget to present them with opportunities to reveal who they really are. This makes it a lot easier to:
Oh, and by the way, 5th graders, in this state's schools, anyway, aren't learning much that's different than what they learned when my mother was teaching them. According to MPS, who is presently employed as a teacher in this state, 4th and 5th graders aren't learning what I was required to learn in those grades. Just thought I'd mention that.
Later.
Addendum: I just discovered that the answer choices published in the article on the Arizona Republic's website for question #3 not only didn't match those published in the paper, but because each of the first three answers published on the website represents a five line rhyme pattern, they turn the question into a comparative math problem rather than a reading comprehension question. Since this representation is not the one on which my mother worked, I changed the first three answers to match the answers in the paper. Other than this, all questions and answers were lifted directly from the article on the Arizona Republic's website unchanged, except for the addition of HTML code to transform the test into list style. In addition, the title of the article printed on paper deleted two "a" articles. Since this doesn't match the title printed on the website, I added the two articles.
Yes, I took the test; once a year the state paper usually publishes part of one of the AIMS tests and I always take them. Yes, I exceed 5th grade standards, which means I answered all the questions correctly, and, I might add, all figuring for the math portion was done in my head. I mention this because the article leads one to believe that actual students taking actual tests must "show your work".
After reading the article and taking the test I wondered how a random sample of adults would do on the test, considering the old saw that most public media in the U.S., at least, is written to comply with fourth grade standards of reading comprehension. As well, I was particularly interested in what results question #2 would yield (hold your horses, I will include a copy of the test, the answers and the scoring scale), considering that it requires the testee to separate observation from opinion, which is something many children and adults find difficult. I decided to write Mr. Ruelas and suggest that such an experiment be launched by the Arizona Republic.
As I was writing him, it occurred to me that it might be interesting to administer the test to my mother. I thought, even if the test proved a little too problematic for her, she'd want to familiarize herself with what 5th graders are expected to learn these days. She responded to my suggestion enthusiastically.
We had a few obstacles to overcome. The print was too small for her to successfully read, although she thought she was reading it successfully until I asked her to read the first question, over which she was inordinately lingering, out loud and discovered her difficulty, so I read them to her as she read along silently. This wasn't always necessary, though, especially for some questions in the math section. For the math questions involving fractions, I read the answer choices to her. For the math questions involving selecting a formula, I wrote the formulae in large for her. There was one question (I'll note it as I write out the questions here) in which I visibly winced when she picked the wrong answer, thus she changed her answer. I asked her if she'd changed it because I winced.
She responded, "Oh course! I'm no dummy!" There were three remaining choices, though, so her alternate choice could have been wrong, but it wasn't.
Following are the test questions. I'll note Mom's answers with a bullet after each question and, if applicable, any special circumstances regarding the question.
Reading
- "So do I," muttered Buster under his breath. The word muttered means the same as:
- spoke quickly
- spoke loudly
- spoke slowly
- spoke softly
- Mom's Answer: D
- Which statement is an opinion?
- I was watching the news last night.
- The most important gift is love.
- I would make sure to follow through with daily upkeep.
- The puppy would receive regular visits to the vet.
- Mom's Answer: D
This is the question about which I opined to Ruelas that adults would most likely get wrong, as well as children. - Read this verse:
Not a dog, not a bird, not a hamster, nor cat.
Our family's too strange for a pet such as that.
He's charming, alarming, with lots of appeal.
He's Walter the Wet. He's our family eel.
What is the rhyme pattern of this stanza?- ABAB
- ABBA
- ABCB
- AABB
- Mom's Answer: D
- Which of the following lists the mixed numbers in order from least to greatest?
- 7 1/7, 4 3/7, 2 4/7, 1 6/7
- 5 2/7, 6 1/7, 6 5/7, 7 3/7
- 2 3/7, 2 1/7, 3 4/7, 4 2/7
- 6 2/7, 3 3/7, 3 5/7, 5 4/7
- Mom's Answer: B
- Which of the following rules could be used to make the number pattern shown below?
1024, 256, 64, 16- Subtract 4
- Add 4
- Multiply by 4
- Divide by 4
- Mom's Answer: D
- Mr. Toye is putting a fence completely around a rectangular garden that is 12 feet wide and 4 feet long. What is the least amount of fencing needed to go around the garden one time?
- 48 feet
- 32 feet
- 24 feet
- 16 feet
- Mom's Answer: A
- Which of the following fractions is greater than 8/17?
- 3/17
- 6/17
- 7/17
- 10/17
- Mom's Answer: D
- Which of the following values should be placed in the blank to make the equation true? 8 = 56÷__
- 10
- 9
- 8
- 7
- Mom's Answer: D
- Which of the following decimal lists is in order from least to greatest?
- 3.5, 3.1, 2.9, 2.4
- 2.9, 3.5, 2.4, 3.1
- 2.4, 2.9, 3.1, 3.5
- 3.1, 2.4, 3.5, 2.9
- Mom's Answer: C
On this one, she asked me to read the lists to her because she was having trouble distinguishing between commas and periods. She noticed the out of sequence decimals immediately, thus, I only had to read through three of the lists before she "got" the answer. - Ms. Collins' class finished some projects on Thursday and 14 projects on Friday. The class finished a total of 32 projects on those two days. Which of the following describes the number of projects, P, the class finished on Thursday?
- 32 × 14 = P
- P × 14 = 32
- 32 + 14 = P
- P + 14 = 32
- Mom's Answer: D
This is the one where I flinched when she picked "C". This was also the question where she had trouble determining the difference between "+" and "x" as printed, which is when I decided to write out any forumlae so she could easily read them. - Which of the following lists all of the factors of 56?
- 1, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 16, 56
- 1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 14, 28, 56
- 1, 2, 28, 56
- 1, 56
- Mom's Answer: D
- The ceiling in Ms. Alexander's classroom is 7 feet high. How high is the ceiling in inches?
- 14
- 21
- 49
- 84
- Mom's Answer: D
- Which expression has a value of 18?
- [(3 × 4) - (2 × 5)] + 1
- 3 + 4 + [(2 × 5) + 1]
- 3 + [(4 × 2) + (5 × 1)]
- 3 × [(4 × 2) - 5] - 1
- Mom's Answer: B
The first time she calculated each formula, which I'd rewritten large, she didn't come up with "18". She said, "Where's the answer 'None of the above'?" I told her there wasn't one. She figured that she must have calculated one wrong and recalculated, coming up with the right answer. - Erika has five flavors of ice cream and three toppings. How many different combinations of one flavor of ice cream and one topping can be made?
- 15
- 10
- 8
- 5
- Mom's Answer: A
- All of the students in Mr. Tate's class brought chips to school Monday. Luis brought only an apple to school Monday. Based on this information, which of the following must be true?
- If Luis brought only an apple, then he was not in school Monday.
- If Luis brought only an apple, then he is in Mr. May's class.
- If Luis brought only an apple, then he is in Mr. Tate's class.
- If Luis brought only an apple, then he is not in Mr. Tate's class.
- Mom's Answer: D
| Answers | Results |
| 1: D 2: B 3: D 4: B 5: D 6: B 7: D 8: D 9: C 10: D 11: B 12: D 13: B 14: A 15: D | 13 and above: Exceeds standards 9-13: Meets standards. 6-9: Approaches standards. 0-6: Falls far below standards...According to last year's AIMS results, you join about one-third of Arizona's fifth-graders. |
"Perimeter?" I provided.
"Yes, that's right. It was on the tip of my tongue."
When she was told that her answer for 11 was wrong, she argued that "all" the numbers in that list are factors of 56. I diverted her back to the question, underlined the word "all" and pointed out that the phrase was "all the factors of 56", not "all the numbers in the list are factors of 56", which, I mentioned, would have rendered three of the answers correct. She understood and, on her own, corrected her answer.
My mother's performance this afternoon on the above test certainly calls into question the definition of senile dementia. If I hadn't decided to try this test on her I would have assumed the test to be beyond her abilities based on what I know about her dementia. I would have been wrong. Her successful negotiation of this test, though, doesn't also mean that she will begin to remember who's dead and who's not, nor that she'll remember what movies she's seen and which she hasn't, or the contents of the latest book chapter I've read to her, nor which books she's read and which she hasn't. She won't remember how to use the microwave. She won't remember how to feed herself in a healthy and timely manner. She'll continue to have problems remembering to hydrate herself, or to get herself to the bathroom before she wets her paper underwear. I would be a fool to ever again return her financial business into her hands, or, for that matter, the keys to the car, or allow her to answer the phone.
It is strange and amazing to me what her mind can do, what it can't and the conditions under which she can sometimes successfully pursue certain mental activities and sometimes not. At this time in her life I have more respect for her intelligence than I ever had, primarily because the patterns of how her mind works are now overt, easily observable. Even when her mind isn't working in a way that the rest of us would consider normal, it still struggles to work in the same manner it did before she developed vascular dementia. More often than I usually expect and much to my continued surprise (although never to hers), her mind is, well, slow, yes, but successful.
Most of the material I read and hear about dementia is about one subset: Progressive Alzheimer's. I'm sure this is because it's the most dramatic and the most devastating. Watching my mother, though, living with her, I can't help but wonder how many people, elders, Ancient Ones, whose dementia is far less spectacular, devastating and progressive than Alzheimer's are being diagnosed and treated as though they have Alzheimer's and it's surely and tragically progressive, but don't and it isn't. I remember when Mom was casually administered a stripped version of the MMSE when she left a hospital in June of 2004 after a blood transfusion. She didn't, of course, know the date, day of the week, month, year, the current President of the U.S., etc. During the session, as well, Mom repeatedly asked me why the flag she saw through the window was at half-mast. I answered her, as though her question was fresh, each time. I remember the outtake nurse smiling at me as though she understood something about my mother and was therefore able to empathize with what I imagine she thought of as my "plight". I also remember thinking, "This didn't tell you what you think it did, lady." This is also why I have never sought to have my mother take the official version of the MMSE. I shudder to think what people would assume about her, especially doctors, if they had the results of such an exam before them, thus limiting their ability to get to know who she really is on her terms.
A few weeks ago a good friend of mine, to whom I hadn't spoken in, hmmm, probably six months, called. She doesn't read these journals. After we excitedly greeted each other and renewed our bond she asked how my mother was doing. Before I could respond she said, her voice dripping with concern and sympathy, "Is it Alzheimer's?"
I was shocked because I know I've explained this to her since April of 2006 but, well, all she remembers is that my mother is demented. This cancels anything else I've said about my mother. "No," I said, and quickly explained that "it's" vascular dementia, is not progressive, has in fact, improved noticeably since her anemia has come under much better control. Her health isn't the best, I explained, she's slowed a lot, she requires the dedicated eye of a constant, familiar companion, but, no, "it's" not Alzheimer's.
The woman floundered. She knew what to say to someone whose care recipient has Alzheimer's. She had no idea what to say to me. I imagine one of her thoughts was, "Well, then, why is Gail even there?!?"
This, I think, is part of the vulnerability of the Ancient who have Dementia-Lite and, I imagine, other forms of dementia and physical ailments. Those of us who are confident that we are not demented nor close to the threshold of Ancienthood make a host of assumptions about who the Demented Old are and forget to present them with opportunities to reveal who they really are. This makes it a lot easier to:
- Leave them alone when they need our companionship.
- Put them in facilities where their lives and activities are scaled to what we expect from the demented, rather than providing environments in which they are allowed to surprise us.
- Make all kinds of erroneous assumptions about what family caregivers do instead of listening to what caregivers tell us about what they do.
Oh, and by the way, 5th graders, in this state's schools, anyway, aren't learning much that's different than what they learned when my mother was teaching them. According to MPS, who is presently employed as a teacher in this state, 4th and 5th graders aren't learning what I was required to learn in those grades. Just thought I'd mention that.
Later.
Addendum: I just discovered that the answer choices published in the article on the Arizona Republic's website for question #3 not only didn't match those published in the paper, but because each of the first three answers published on the website represents a five line rhyme pattern, they turn the question into a comparative math problem rather than a reading comprehension question. Since this representation is not the one on which my mother worked, I changed the first three answers to match the answers in the paper. Other than this, all questions and answers were lifted directly from the article on the Arizona Republic's website unchanged, except for the addition of HTML code to transform the test into list style. In addition, the title of the article printed on paper deleted two "a" articles. Since this doesn't match the title printed on the website, I added the two articles.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
So far, so excellent.
Mom was intrigued with our egg painting exercise. "This is fun," she said, several times. It was. We only accomplished half of our project in yesterday's two sessions: The painting of the base colors. Each of us chose our base colors and painted three eggs. I felt that mine required two coats. She decided to paint each egg with only one coat, but her process took longer than mine, so we finished about the same time. I had washed and brought a seventh egg to room temperature just in case one of the eggs broke. Our sessions went well, though, despite (or maybe because of) frequent on-table supervision by our cats, so I decided to base paint the seventh.
As we base painted, we talked about possible decoration detail. At one point I suggested that we consider gluing beads onto the eggs.
Mom gave me a stern look across the table. "I think painting designs is going to keep us busy enough," she countered.
After base painting was completed, it was obvious that Mom's intellectual acuity and concentration had been taxed enough for one day. We decided to leave the decorative detail for today. I was very pleased, though, with our two sessions. She was engaged beyond my imaginings.
She noticed that her base painting yielded coatings not as smooth as mine. I'm always honest with her when she asks my opinion about such matters. I examined each of her eggs and said, "I suppose you're right, but, look, Mom, the quality of your brush strokes is bold and interesting. I wish I'd thought of that," which was true. "You've got provocative textures, here. I'm thinking it might be fun to try dripping washes of other colors over your eggs to highlight the textures. Remember, when you used to do ceramics, you'd create those spot glazes with chunks of materials that would melt and run? I think we could come up with a similar technique. Or, you could add dashes of contrasting color with bold, thick strokes. You're selling yourself short if you don't consider the possibilities of your base coat technique."
"That really wasn't technique," she said, "it was accident."
"Happy accident, then. I think you have the beginnings of some intriguing eggs, here." And, I do.
She was not only pleased, she examined each of her eggs from this perspective and began to smile. "I think I see what you mean," she said.
We also talked about the possibility of doing this type of thing regularly. I mentioned that I wasn't sure that we wanted to produce painted eggs in abundance; after all, what would we do with them?
"Sell them," Mom said, always the opportunist.
That's a possibility, but one in which I haven't got much faith. "We'd probably only be able to sell them around Easter, Mom," I said, "and then, what would we do with them in the meantime?" I suggested that maybe we could just paint pictures, but she wasn't keen on that idea. "Maybe, then, we could find other things to paint, like, oh, I don't know..."
"...our walls," Mom suggested.
I laughed, but, now that I think of it, this isn't a half bad idea.
I'm also thinking, maybe I can solicit my neighbor with the camera to come over and take some shots of our finished eggs to post here, if they turn out as interesting as I suspect they will.
Which reminds me...only three of the snow pictures taken through our windows turned out; of those, only one expresses the quality of what it's like to live in this house, in this area, surrounded by snow. This is a note to myself to remember to post it here, shortly.
Today, though, has not been a good day to continue painting, what with TCM's Jesus movie extravaganza on television. I'd forgotten about that aspect of Easter. Mom's just finishing King of Kings and will shortly begin Barabbas. I've been surprised by some of the scenes in King of Kings, particularly those featuring Herod, Pilate, Lucius, the various royal wives and Salome. I'm looking forward to Barabbas because of Anthony Quinn. It'll be interesting to see what kind of Jesus story Hollywood cobbled together out of nothing.
Then, of course, later tonight is the next episode of The Tudors. Mom was thoroughly seduced by the first episode last week. Curiously, during last week's episode she was reminded that she has a book about the children of Henry VIII. I remembered it remains in her bed stand book collection. We've decided, when we finish with the book through which we're now currently working our way, The Making of "Mammy Pleasant": A Black Entrepreneur in Nineteenth-Century San Francisco, a book written by one of my fraternal cousins upon which I stumbled upon while doing some genealogical research for MCS, we'll read about Henry VIII's children. Mom read the book once many years ago but has no memory of it. I remember she enjoyed it, though, so it should be a good read. I expect, once all the Easter movies are exhausted, we'll probably, once again, start through our collection of English Royals movies.
Mom was surprised and a little confused by the contents of the Easter basket, although once she opened the mandala coloring books she was enchanted. I included an extensive collection of crayons and colored pencils. She has the prejudice against crayons common to many people; they're for kids. I don't mind that she prefers colored pencils, but I decided to initiate a "crayons aren't for sissies" session with the blank practicing pad and encouraged her to experiment with both. I don't know that she was convinced, but I'm sure she'll be using the coloring books with one medium or another. When she noticed there were two she said, "Oh, good, you can color with me." I never thought I'd find myself saying this in my 50's, but I'm looking forward to it.
I've been adding to this post throughout the evening, as possible. It is now Monday, 0046. Dinner, which was excellent, is long done. Yes, we had ham. Not HoneyBaked, though. We've been successively disappointed with the taste as compared to the price over the last few years. Years ago, HoneyBaked hams tasted distinctive. This is no longer true; it's now hard to tell the difference between them and other premium spiral sliced hams. We decided to go for the markedly cheaper (and leaner) Kirkland ham. As usual, I played with the glaze mix that comes with the ham, this time substituting pineapple juice, from the canned-in-juice slices with which I decorated the ham, for the water and adding rum. Savory results. I served lightly steamed Brussels sprouts with feta/herb dressing and fresh, nuked corn on the cob. After this feast, neither of us was interested in the cherry pie, to which I'd also added rum. My taste buds seem to be frantic for the flavor of rum, lately. We'll see how that worked out tomorrow, probably.
No nap today for Mom, which surprised and delighted me. Her choice. I believe she was afraid she'd miss yet another Jesus movie.
I think I'll relax a bit and hit the sack. I've got some errands to run early in the morning. This week, too, is Gather Up Yard Trash and Get It to the Curb Week.
Later.
As we base painted, we talked about possible decoration detail. At one point I suggested that we consider gluing beads onto the eggs.
Mom gave me a stern look across the table. "I think painting designs is going to keep us busy enough," she countered.
After base painting was completed, it was obvious that Mom's intellectual acuity and concentration had been taxed enough for one day. We decided to leave the decorative detail for today. I was very pleased, though, with our two sessions. She was engaged beyond my imaginings.
She noticed that her base painting yielded coatings not as smooth as mine. I'm always honest with her when she asks my opinion about such matters. I examined each of her eggs and said, "I suppose you're right, but, look, Mom, the quality of your brush strokes is bold and interesting. I wish I'd thought of that," which was true. "You've got provocative textures, here. I'm thinking it might be fun to try dripping washes of other colors over your eggs to highlight the textures. Remember, when you used to do ceramics, you'd create those spot glazes with chunks of materials that would melt and run? I think we could come up with a similar technique. Or, you could add dashes of contrasting color with bold, thick strokes. You're selling yourself short if you don't consider the possibilities of your base coat technique."
"That really wasn't technique," she said, "it was accident."
"Happy accident, then. I think you have the beginnings of some intriguing eggs, here." And, I do.
She was not only pleased, she examined each of her eggs from this perspective and began to smile. "I think I see what you mean," she said.
We also talked about the possibility of doing this type of thing regularly. I mentioned that I wasn't sure that we wanted to produce painted eggs in abundance; after all, what would we do with them?
"Sell them," Mom said, always the opportunist.
That's a possibility, but one in which I haven't got much faith. "We'd probably only be able to sell them around Easter, Mom," I said, "and then, what would we do with them in the meantime?" I suggested that maybe we could just paint pictures, but she wasn't keen on that idea. "Maybe, then, we could find other things to paint, like, oh, I don't know..."
"...our walls," Mom suggested.
I laughed, but, now that I think of it, this isn't a half bad idea.
I'm also thinking, maybe I can solicit my neighbor with the camera to come over and take some shots of our finished eggs to post here, if they turn out as interesting as I suspect they will.
Which reminds me...only three of the snow pictures taken through our windows turned out; of those, only one expresses the quality of what it's like to live in this house, in this area, surrounded by snow. This is a note to myself to remember to post it here, shortly.
Today, though, has not been a good day to continue painting, what with TCM's Jesus movie extravaganza on television. I'd forgotten about that aspect of Easter. Mom's just finishing King of Kings and will shortly begin Barabbas. I've been surprised by some of the scenes in King of Kings, particularly those featuring Herod, Pilate, Lucius, the various royal wives and Salome. I'm looking forward to Barabbas because of Anthony Quinn. It'll be interesting to see what kind of Jesus story Hollywood cobbled together out of nothing.
Then, of course, later tonight is the next episode of The Tudors. Mom was thoroughly seduced by the first episode last week. Curiously, during last week's episode she was reminded that she has a book about the children of Henry VIII. I remembered it remains in her bed stand book collection. We've decided, when we finish with the book through which we're now currently working our way, The Making of "Mammy Pleasant": A Black Entrepreneur in Nineteenth-Century San Francisco, a book written by one of my fraternal cousins upon which I stumbled upon while doing some genealogical research for MCS, we'll read about Henry VIII's children. Mom read the book once many years ago but has no memory of it. I remember she enjoyed it, though, so it should be a good read. I expect, once all the Easter movies are exhausted, we'll probably, once again, start through our collection of English Royals movies.
Mom was surprised and a little confused by the contents of the Easter basket, although once she opened the mandala coloring books she was enchanted. I included an extensive collection of crayons and colored pencils. She has the prejudice against crayons common to many people; they're for kids. I don't mind that she prefers colored pencils, but I decided to initiate a "crayons aren't for sissies" session with the blank practicing pad and encouraged her to experiment with both. I don't know that she was convinced, but I'm sure she'll be using the coloring books with one medium or another. When she noticed there were two she said, "Oh, good, you can color with me." I never thought I'd find myself saying this in my 50's, but I'm looking forward to it.
I've been adding to this post throughout the evening, as possible. It is now Monday, 0046. Dinner, which was excellent, is long done. Yes, we had ham. Not HoneyBaked, though. We've been successively disappointed with the taste as compared to the price over the last few years. Years ago, HoneyBaked hams tasted distinctive. This is no longer true; it's now hard to tell the difference between them and other premium spiral sliced hams. We decided to go for the markedly cheaper (and leaner) Kirkland ham. As usual, I played with the glaze mix that comes with the ham, this time substituting pineapple juice, from the canned-in-juice slices with which I decorated the ham, for the water and adding rum. Savory results. I served lightly steamed Brussels sprouts with feta/herb dressing and fresh, nuked corn on the cob. After this feast, neither of us was interested in the cherry pie, to which I'd also added rum. My taste buds seem to be frantic for the flavor of rum, lately. We'll see how that worked out tomorrow, probably.
No nap today for Mom, which surprised and delighted me. Her choice. I believe she was afraid she'd miss yet another Jesus movie.
I think I'll relax a bit and hit the sack. I've got some errands to run early in the morning. This week, too, is Gather Up Yard Trash and Get It to the Curb Week.
Later.
