We had no ready-to-cook meals left last night and it was too hot to go to the store, but then I remembered that I had some leftover mozzarella in the fridge and decided I'd make pizza. I got dough to mixing and then realized I had no tomato sauce of any kind, so I mixed canned tomatoes with balsamic vinegar and oregano and cooked that down while the dough mixed (it turned out to be delicious. I may do that all the time from now on!). I had made a large batch of dough and had a chunk left over, so naturally I made hockies for breakfast.
Hockies are an old family favorite, passed down by my German great-grandmother (whom I never knew). They are just chunks of bread dough fried and served slathered with butter. Whenever I make pizza, I always make sure there is enough dough left over for me to make hockies in the morning because Walt and I both love them...and using excess pizza dough means there isn't a lot of dough so we can't gorge on hockies.
This being Thursday, I was going to Atria so I could be sure my mother would be in her room when Jeri called.
My friend Barbara, who is a member of Citizens Who Care, had mentioned awhile ago that she would like to meet my mother, so she came with me.
When we got to the memory unit, my mother was sitting at the far end of the hall, the other end from the part where her apartment is. She saw me and waved when I waved. I tried to motion her to come to meet us, but she just kept waving. I finally walked all the way down there, introduced her to Barbara and suggested we go to her apartment. She was walking as if in great pain and she said her whole body ached.
I offered to get a wheel chair to take her the distance to her room, but she didn't want that. Then I offered her the use of my cane, which she wouldn't use. But I guess walking that distance worked the kinks out because she was pretty much OK by the time we got there.
The three of us sat down and started talking. Jeri called shortly after we got there and I was glad I had come because otherwise my mother would not have been in her room. They had their usual nice talk, mostly about when Jeri was going to come to see her.
Jeri is so steadfast in her attempts to keep in touch with her grandmother. It's never much of a chat but they have touched bases and whether my mother remembers it or not, she enjoys it in the moment and that is all that's important.
After she got off the phone, Barbara said she had brought her a gift. She had a foaming soap, a chunk of soap that looked like a crystal, and some had lotion. I don't know that my mother will ever use any of it but she was surprised and appreciative.
This was a good day, visit wise. She was not anxious and was talkative, even if most of what she said didn't make sense. I tried to keep the conversation on things that I know she knows, like trying to let Barbara know how many siblings she had.
We talked about my haircut and how having it so short brought back all the curl and I was asking her which of her sisters had curly hair, which was good because it got her brain churning and she did remember, she thought, which ones had curly hair...all she really remembered (I knew this) was that she had wanted curly hair all her life (her mother had curly hair) and thought it unfair that she never got it and I did. (I remember the days when she used to look at me every time I arrived and tell me it made her disgusted to look at me because my hair was so curly. I finally told her how it made me feel to know that every time she looked at me it made her disgusted and she stopped doing it, but it had gone on for years).
Anyway, all things considered it turned out to be a good visit and those always send me home in a good mood. And can any day that starts with hockies ever be a bad one?