This morning was my last at Lynnwood Lodge. We were busy this morning getting packed up to leave. I was all packed up and was heading up to my grandma's on the 6th floor when I became involved in a bit of a dust-up in the elevator. Two people got on with me on the ground floor. They went on ahead of me and I don't think the gentleman knew I was standing behind him trying to get in. The woman snapped at him "Paul! Move out of the way so she can get in!" He apologized and stepped aside. She was getting out on the 2nd floor, he needed the 3rd and I needed the 6th. When we stopped at the second floor they both got out. Well, she was not going to let him get off on the wrong floor...so she barked "get back in! You don't get off here" and she pushed on his arm. Well he was having none of that. "Dont push me around, lady! Who the hell do you think you are!?" And then he smacked her with his church bulletin, which I immediately saw the irony in. I stood helpless with my finger on the open button. Would he stay on the 2nd floor just to spite her? Or would he get back in the elevator with me? In order to break the tension and avoid further assault by the word of the lord, I quietly asked if he would like to go to the third floor. He said "I'll come with you (meaning me) but I won't forget this (meaning her.) Once the doors were closed he told me that she was a trouble maker. No kidding!
A retirement home is much more like a school yard than you might think. There were the mean girls that were bitching behind our backs that we were playing cards at a table in the lounge instead of the games room...speaking loudly enough that we could hear them...and not being very nice about it. There's the single guy that everyone thinks is good looking. The new "kids" have to sit at a table by themselves until a spot opens up at a cooler table. But mostly it's like school because there is a large group of people brought together based on their age alone. They are all so different from one another in how they dress, how they think. They all have their own traditions around meal time and social etiquette. And yet for the most part they all live peacefully together, making friendships and keeping each other company while they are asked to spend this time together. It is really very sweet to see...and I am really glad to have had this time to experience it first hand. I feel good knowing my grandma now calls this place home.
I am now at the Ottawa airport. I have over 2 hours until my flight leaves and those who know me could probably figure out that very soon I will be very bored. I think I will go grab a coffee and spend some time out in the sunshine before I go through security. I better go freshen up in case there's a cavity search.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Pancakes and strudels and steak knives, oh my!
Today I had the opportunity to experience the dining room at Lynnwood.
Today's lunch menu had two options...old fashioned pancakes and sausages or egg salad sandwich, with chocolate pudding and a shortbread cookie for dessert. I hadn't had breakfast so I opted for the pancakes. The rest of my party had the sandwiches. The food at lunch was really quite nice. What really got me about the whole experience was everyone else who was there.
We arrived at the dining room a few minutes before lunch was served. There were loads of folks loitering outside the doors sitting on their walker/stools. Let me tell you, once those doors opened it was mayhem. Mayhem in super-slo-mo. It looked like that part in the Thriller video when all of the zombies slowly come out into the street to dance with MJ. Once we had all gotten ourselves seated it wasn't long before people started dozing off. Extreme cuteness. The staff were so great with the residents. Finding other flavors for the people who couldn't abide the chocolate pudding. Waking people up before they landed face first into their pancakes. I thought one woman had actually done a face-plant on her table but then realized that she was just operating one if those monster magnifying glasses to fill out the dinner form. You see, at lunch we all have to fill out a card with what we would like for dinner. A tough choice. Would you have picked chicken cordon bleu, or trout almandine. Remembering, of course, that your dinner will be massed produced and be catered to a senior's taste buds.
I went chicken. I'm not sure that was the best move, looking back. If only I had talked to Shirley sooner. Shirley is my new smoking buddy here. She is almost completely blind and so smoking is even more hazardous to her health than most. No word of a lie, this afternoon I stopped her from lighting her pants on fire from a stray ash. She couldn't see it...it was about 3/4 of an inch long. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I don't know Shirley well, obviously, so I wasn't sure if she didn't know it was so big or if she was maybe just one of those crazy people who seem to save them up for one big satisfying tap off. Anyway, it eventually fell off onto her pants so I leapt up and brushed it off her lap. She didn't seem to mind that I'd rubbed her thigh...she only said "oh...I guess that's why my leg felt so hot there." The other thing Shirley told me was that the chicken was awful. She went to the first dinner sitting and had the chicken. Well now she tells me. My card was already filled out...I was committed to it.
Let me tell you something I have learned about Shirley...she may not be able to see very well but there's nothing wrong with her palate. That chicken was not good. And they don't really give much heed to the concept of visual presentation being part of a well thought out entree. I had ordered a salad with dinner which was served as a starter so the only thing they had to worry about plating was the chicken and some mashed potatoes. This chicken was a breaded, brown lump approximately two inches by three inches sitting beside the smallest mound of potatoes I have ever been served. I believe they used a melon-baller to portion them out.
The chicken gets its own paragraph. It was an impenetrable fortress of poultry. It was seriously built to last. Luckily it was served with a steak knife or I would still be down there chipping away at it I think. Once I had infiltrated the outer crust a viscous white filling slowly started leaking out onto my plate. It looked like elmers glue but didn't taste quite as good. I abandoned the main dish and moved on to my potatoes for a bit of a break from all the sawing. The potatoes were good...so good that I could have eaten them all in one bite. No wait, I did eat them in one bite. So it was back to the chicken for me. The dish culminated in one final bite that was different from all the rest. This time, when I lifted the forkful of chicken up to my mouth, a tiny hard piece of dry ham fell out. This was exciting. I had forgotten all about the ham that should have been in my cordon bleu.
Dessert was Apple strudel with ice cream. It was delish. But you know I probably wouldn't have mentioned it if there wasn't something funny or bizarre about it. Again it was the presentation. They served it in the tiniest bowl you could imagine. It was all crammed in there so that if you went in with your fork to get a piece, everything shifted in such a way that made you feel like you were about to launch the scoop of ice cream up over the side of your bowl and into your neighbor's lap. My grandma had the right idea and put the whole works onto her coffee saucer. At least everything was on an even plain and there was no longer a launching ramp to propel the food upwards. Anyone who has ever had strudel knows it is not the most pliable of desserts. I was getting quite the workout using my fork to cut into this sucker and I have a lot more upper body strength than the majority of tonight's diners. So I got the giggles when I looked around the room and saw nothing but pensioners battling strudels, armed only with their forks. It was quite a sight to behold.
I found the whole experience of the dining room extremely amazing. If you are a people watcher, even if you only dabble in it, this is where it's all at. The collection of people is totally wicked. I really loved every minute of it. But I will admit, I'm still a little hungry.
Today's lunch menu had two options...old fashioned pancakes and sausages or egg salad sandwich, with chocolate pudding and a shortbread cookie for dessert. I hadn't had breakfast so I opted for the pancakes. The rest of my party had the sandwiches. The food at lunch was really quite nice. What really got me about the whole experience was everyone else who was there.
We arrived at the dining room a few minutes before lunch was served. There were loads of folks loitering outside the doors sitting on their walker/stools. Let me tell you, once those doors opened it was mayhem. Mayhem in super-slo-mo. It looked like that part in the Thriller video when all of the zombies slowly come out into the street to dance with MJ. Once we had all gotten ourselves seated it wasn't long before people started dozing off. Extreme cuteness. The staff were so great with the residents. Finding other flavors for the people who couldn't abide the chocolate pudding. Waking people up before they landed face first into their pancakes. I thought one woman had actually done a face-plant on her table but then realized that she was just operating one if those monster magnifying glasses to fill out the dinner form. You see, at lunch we all have to fill out a card with what we would like for dinner. A tough choice. Would you have picked chicken cordon bleu, or trout almandine. Remembering, of course, that your dinner will be massed produced and be catered to a senior's taste buds.
I went chicken. I'm not sure that was the best move, looking back. If only I had talked to Shirley sooner. Shirley is my new smoking buddy here. She is almost completely blind and so smoking is even more hazardous to her health than most. No word of a lie, this afternoon I stopped her from lighting her pants on fire from a stray ash. She couldn't see it...it was about 3/4 of an inch long. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I don't know Shirley well, obviously, so I wasn't sure if she didn't know it was so big or if she was maybe just one of those crazy people who seem to save them up for one big satisfying tap off. Anyway, it eventually fell off onto her pants so I leapt up and brushed it off her lap. She didn't seem to mind that I'd rubbed her thigh...she only said "oh...I guess that's why my leg felt so hot there." The other thing Shirley told me was that the chicken was awful. She went to the first dinner sitting and had the chicken. Well now she tells me. My card was already filled out...I was committed to it.
Let me tell you something I have learned about Shirley...she may not be able to see very well but there's nothing wrong with her palate. That chicken was not good. And they don't really give much heed to the concept of visual presentation being part of a well thought out entree. I had ordered a salad with dinner which was served as a starter so the only thing they had to worry about plating was the chicken and some mashed potatoes. This chicken was a breaded, brown lump approximately two inches by three inches sitting beside the smallest mound of potatoes I have ever been served. I believe they used a melon-baller to portion them out.
The chicken gets its own paragraph. It was an impenetrable fortress of poultry. It was seriously built to last. Luckily it was served with a steak knife or I would still be down there chipping away at it I think. Once I had infiltrated the outer crust a viscous white filling slowly started leaking out onto my plate. It looked like elmers glue but didn't taste quite as good. I abandoned the main dish and moved on to my potatoes for a bit of a break from all the sawing. The potatoes were good...so good that I could have eaten them all in one bite. No wait, I did eat them in one bite. So it was back to the chicken for me. The dish culminated in one final bite that was different from all the rest. This time, when I lifted the forkful of chicken up to my mouth, a tiny hard piece of dry ham fell out. This was exciting. I had forgotten all about the ham that should have been in my cordon bleu.
Dessert was Apple strudel with ice cream. It was delish. But you know I probably wouldn't have mentioned it if there wasn't something funny or bizarre about it. Again it was the presentation. They served it in the tiniest bowl you could imagine. It was all crammed in there so that if you went in with your fork to get a piece, everything shifted in such a way that made you feel like you were about to launch the scoop of ice cream up over the side of your bowl and into your neighbor's lap. My grandma had the right idea and put the whole works onto her coffee saucer. At least everything was on an even plain and there was no longer a launching ramp to propel the food upwards. Anyone who has ever had strudel knows it is not the most pliable of desserts. I was getting quite the workout using my fork to cut into this sucker and I have a lot more upper body strength than the majority of tonight's diners. So I got the giggles when I looked around the room and saw nothing but pensioners battling strudels, armed only with their forks. It was quite a sight to behold.
I found the whole experience of the dining room extremely amazing. If you are a people watcher, even if you only dabble in it, this is where it's all at. The collection of people is totally wicked. I really loved every minute of it. But I will admit, I'm still a little hungry.
Like all good New Years Eve resolutions...
this one was sort of forgotten about...just like everybody else's.
But my current situation is begging to be blogged about so it's time to get back on the horse.
I am now living in a retirement home.
You may be thinking to yourself "gee I know it's been awhile since Sara blogged...but I didn't realize it had been THAT Long!". To clarify, I am merely a guest in a retirement home...but believe me it's just as rad as being a permanent resident.
Let me back up a bit and explain. Today I flew out to Ottawa with my parents to celebrate my grandma's 95th birthday. She lives in Lynnwood Park Lodge. It is wicked cool here. We "checked in" at the front desk. They have guest rooms they rent out so that he resident's families can stay with them which is way better than staying at a hotel. You'll soon see why. Anyway, there were the usual questions you have to answer when you check.in anywhere. But then came the retirement-home-specific questions. Did we want to take our lunch at 11:30 or 1:00...dinner at 4:30 or 6:00. Classic, right?
Anyway, by the time we were ready to head to our rooms the second seating of dinner was over. We looked in horror as a slow moving battalion of 15-20 well fed seniors armed with the latest in walker technology stormed the elevators. They were everywhere...they were full...they were sleepy and they were hell-bent to recapture their recliners by force. Any hope of getting to our rooms in a timely fashion were quickly dashed, because nothing else was dashing quickly, believe me.
When I walked into my room I couldn't quite comprehend what I was seeing. My room has a twin bed and a lamp. That's it. It smells a bit like poo. My closet is quite cramped due to the various pieces of medical equipment including a commode. I really love my room. It is like I'm living in a monestary. My possessions are few...which allows for q rich inner life. Or at least q lot of time to play angry birds. I will post a picture.
After an awesome visit with my grandma I spent the rest of the night in my cell. My grandma loaned me her radio so I didn't feel so lonely. I think I will like my time here a lot. I feel like I may be ready for "the home."
But my current situation is begging to be blogged about so it's time to get back on the horse.
I am now living in a retirement home.
You may be thinking to yourself "gee I know it's been awhile since Sara blogged...but I didn't realize it had been THAT Long!". To clarify, I am merely a guest in a retirement home...but believe me it's just as rad as being a permanent resident.
Let me back up a bit and explain. Today I flew out to Ottawa with my parents to celebrate my grandma's 95th birthday. She lives in Lynnwood Park Lodge. It is wicked cool here. We "checked in" at the front desk. They have guest rooms they rent out so that he resident's families can stay with them which is way better than staying at a hotel. You'll soon see why. Anyway, there were the usual questions you have to answer when you check.in anywhere. But then came the retirement-home-specific questions. Did we want to take our lunch at 11:30 or 1:00...dinner at 4:30 or 6:00. Classic, right?
Anyway, by the time we were ready to head to our rooms the second seating of dinner was over. We looked in horror as a slow moving battalion of 15-20 well fed seniors armed with the latest in walker technology stormed the elevators. They were everywhere...they were full...they were sleepy and they were hell-bent to recapture their recliners by force. Any hope of getting to our rooms in a timely fashion were quickly dashed, because nothing else was dashing quickly, believe me.
When I walked into my room I couldn't quite comprehend what I was seeing. My room has a twin bed and a lamp. That's it. It smells a bit like poo. My closet is quite cramped due to the various pieces of medical equipment including a commode. I really love my room. It is like I'm living in a monestary. My possessions are few...which allows for q rich inner life. Or at least q lot of time to play angry birds. I will post a picture.
After an awesome visit with my grandma I spent the rest of the night in my cell. My grandma loaned me her radio so I didn't feel so lonely. I think I will like my time here a lot. I feel like I may be ready for "the home."
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