I can feel it coming.
Late Saturday afternoon found me with the Golden Girls, fashioning their gray locks into lovely, though outdated coiffures.
One haircut each, 2 Italian tops, 1 Up-sweep and a plain bouffant rounded out my creations.
I was at the House later than usual, much later actually.
In between helping me with my Old Dolls the Day Girl was going about the business of preparing their dinner.
As I worked I began to notice that the mobile Dolls were getting up and walking in circles.
Confusion was in the air.
They were forgetting their walkers.
And asking strange questions.
"I don't know WHO is going to come and get me"?
"Am I going to be sleeping here tonight"?
Miss Morning-glory, a statuesque beauty who in her former life was an artist said "I think my husband may be dead.... I haven't seen him in a while".
Yeah, 30 years could be considered "a while".
When the Day Girl had just about lost her patience with all the unsafe behavior I could hold my questions no longer...
"What the heck is up here today" ? I asked "I've never seen them so agitated. Almost every single one is doing and saying weird things".
"Sundowning" she said "happens almost every late afternoon or early evening."
Remind me, I say, why I need to he here early from now on.
It takes a special person to say for the 100th time "you live here, you like it here and you-are-safe".
Especially when it seems to fall on deaf ears.
I'm sad to say I was happy to go.
Sunday brought a bit more madness.
Daddio and I sat in the very last pew at church.
It is our favorite spot.
I have a weird thing about people looking at the back of my head.
I imagine them critiquing my hair...or the dog hairs stuck to back of my sweater.
I wonder if I may have forgotten to remove a tag...and if I did, chances are it is a bright pink CLEARANCE one.
I can feel my parted cowlick...gray hairs poking east and west.
Yes sir, I like that back row.
In front of us was a young family.
Dad, small boy, Mom, small girl.
The boy wore a white button up shirt, navy vest and a pair of pleated dress pants secured with a slender belt.
His wild hair combed hard to one side and plastered with mousse...
His younger sister wore a bell shaped, wine colored holiday dress.
They were both munching snacks pulled from greasy baggies clutched in their closed fists.
Crunch, crunch, crunch..crunch, crunch, crunch...
The snacks were french fry shaped long thin strips in shades of green, yellow and a dull orange.
They fed the snacks into their mouths like loggers feeding a shredder.
I was mesmerized watching the crumbs fly.
And the tiny fingers being sucked clean.
I sometimes wish we could be late to mass.
I like to avoid the "time to stand up and meet our neighbors"
(I'll admit I am all kinds of messed up)
I was wondering how in the hell Daddio was going to avoid the "dirty" handshake with the boy logger.
As Pastor directed "turn around and greet your fellow worshipers" the small boy spun to face us.
He thrust his open hand toward Daddio, waiting for a hand shake.
Daddio sidestepped the hand altogether and grabbed the kid's wrist and forearm.
He pumped it up and down in a firm shake.
I literally almost died.
"Crazy old man" the boy's expression read.
Me..? I giggled the whole damn hour every time I thought of Daddio's quick thinking.