Mush for Brains

by Bella Rum

My mind goes on vacation for the first day after I return from Dad’s. It refuses to work. In a conversation with a friend, I had difficulty finishing my sentences. She filled in the blanks for me. I made a doltish comment (not the first time) on a blog yesterday. I didn’t comprehend what I read or didn’t read what I thought or something. I turned down a street… going the wrong way. Holy cow. Not one but two police cars pulled in just after I managed to get back over the double yellow line. Of course, they don’t bother old ladies, so I was fine. Sort of.

There are such issues with Dad’s caregivers now. I can’t even begin. Actually it’s one caregiver in particular. I think she’s in transition and will move on to something else soon.  There’s a new issue every week. Every week, I tell you. I  thought things would get better if I relieved some of the pressure. It doesn’t seem that way. It’s hard to tell when you’re in the middle of something. A year from now, I could look back at this particular place in time and see a little bump in the road or a deep sinkhole. It’s always easier to see the landscape at a distance and once it’s behind you, not still ahead.

H said I was screaming at someone last night, telling them to pack their bags and get their a$#es out. My goodness. Cursing in my sleep now, am I? He said he just figured I was talking to him. Funny guy. I remember nothing.

I have a recipe coming up. I just have to make it again and take a few pics. It’s delish, low-fat and low-cal.

That reminds me. One of Dad’s caregivers decided that Dad shouldn’t drink sugared tea anymore. She makes a mixture of half Splenda and half sugar. Dad doesn’t know the difference, so it’s fine. Who cares? But he’s been drinking sweet tea his entire life, and he doesn’t have diabetes. Introducing a few chemicals to him at this late date isn’t going to hurt, but neither is it going to help. She’s all a dither about giving him fried oysters, soft crabs and fish. I explained to her that a consistent diet of that stuff would kill us, but Dad survived 96 years on a steady diet of it, chasing it with bacon drippings and Crisco* and even a bottle of Scotch back in the day. When he dies, it will not be from sweet tea or fried foods. It will be because he’s tired of living, and that will come sooner if we take his fried green tomatoes away from him. Sheesh!

He once told me that he’d heard that eggs were bad for you so he stopped eating them and doubled up on his sausage and bacon for breakfast. I swear. Truth. Two pieces of sausage and two pieces of bacon and two slices of bread slathered in butter…. not low-cal margarine. Ut uh. The real thing.

So there you go. The secret to longevity. Bacon drippings, sugar and Scotch. Oh, and lots of vegetables from his garden. He never exercised a day in his life but did backbreaking work his entire life. He still has pretty good muscle tone. Nothing like hard work and good genetics.

*The solid Crisco from back in the day, not the no-cholesterol vegetable oil we use today.

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