Mr. Wearing

So - awoke intolerably early after the old triangle antics as "Liam" to drop the sister at the airport, then back to blissful sleep. To the news at noon that grandmom, exhausted over granddad, has had a mini-stroke and is now too in hospital. My genius aunt misheard the counsel to say she was just downstairs, and so the ruse now is to tell granddad that his wife is at "Sears". Don't think he'll be buying that one when he wakes up beside me.

Have you ever had any problems with dementia, asks the neurologist to my grandmother. No, which she proceeds to prove by rhyming off the phone number to her pharmicist. She is doing exceedingly well down on floor three and just needs to rest. Another crisis averted.

The best part of my afternoon has been the stories told to pass the time. Of my great-uncle's involvement with the rum runners, jimmy the belgian, and the more on the courtship b/w the couple of 64 years. It would be longer, but she broke up with him for a year due to his drinking, and was actually engaged for a time to a guy named Bert Wearing. I like to think that fell apart b/c of his absurd name, but in any case here we all are, inside the bland hallways on a sunny hali saturday afternoon.

All the different ways your life can go.