I’m Sure It Could Be Mended

Last night, lovely Topaz was cuddled up, all meow-meow lap cat cute and eye-blinky adorable when Sweetpea took a flying leap from a nearby window sill, which startled my dulcet darling. Topaz ran straight up me and used my face as a launching pad for her airborne escape. What felt like a cartoon KA-POW! right to the kisser was a kitty claw dug into my lip. Screaming would’ve been too much and OW! wasn’t enough. I spent the rest of the evening with an ice pack on my face as my upper lip doubled in size and I couldn’t even be mad about it. That’s frustrating.

Sweetpea knows what you've been up to. And down to.

At the time, we were watching PBS’s Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates, Jr., which is like sugary deep-fried crack for me. I cannot get enough of this show. Last night, we watched the episode with Cory Booker and John Lewis. Please find it. See it. This will break your heart and should be required viewing for every seventeen year old in America.

Today, my lip’s a little swollen but my ego is cut down to size. That’s fine by me.

That’s What It’s All About

Last night, I took off all my jewelry ahead of today’s MRI. No, I did not use bolt cutters. Yes, I feel weirdly naked. On the bright side, I’m probably less explosive.

If they do get it, I'm sure there's a cream for that.

Hit And Run Transmission

My first mistake was making an appointment to discuss cognitive function and memory loss. My second was to show up on time.

Tata: I have to ask a delicate question.
Receptionist: Why are we whispering?
Tata: Because I have to ask a delicate question. I had a 2:30 appointment with the clinician. A little while ago, he appeared in the doorway and a creepy guy sitting near me got up and followed him. It’s now 2:50 and if the creepy guy was not seeing the clinician, where did they both go? Is it possible the clinician double-booked his appointments?
Receptionist: I…I will go find out for you what happened.

The look of horror on her face told me a few things I didn’t expect to hear. She got up and disappeared down a hallway and a minute later the clinician appeared through the leaves of a potted plant near me. He said something astounding.

Young Doctor: Can you stay for a 3:15?
Tata: Absolutely not.
Young Doctor: You can’t? We’re very busy.
Tata: No. You can call me in the morning at my work number, if you think we should reschedule.
Young Doctor: I’m seeing people every fifteen minutes to accommodate everyone.
Tata: Nathan, we are not off to a good start.

My knitting and I flounced off in a huff. A few hours later, Nathan called on my cell phone. It was not morning and I was not at work. This time, I was prepared to torment him properly.

Tata: Nathan, if you make an appointment with me, you should be ready to see me at that time.
Nathan: I’m very sorry.
Tata: If we can’t agree on that, there’s no sense agreeing on anything else.
Nathan: You’re right, you’re right. I’m very sorry. Sometimes technology gets away from me.
Tata: Nathan, I burned a vacation day to see you.
Nathan: You did? That makes it worse.

I did not say, “Pumpkin, I had 50 of them and my department head has lectures me about dragging my ass outside and vacationing like I mean it.” What, are you kidding? I’m training this kid to take his patients seriously.

Tata: Fine, what sort of time commitment are we talking about for this appointment?
Nathan: The first one is a brief interview, then there are two three-hour tests. We should probably spread those out. The first one we can do by phone.
Tata: That sounds great, since I can recline and eat bonbons. At which, I am great.
Nathan: I get out of clinic at 8:30 p.m. on Wednesday. Is that a bad time to speak?
Tata: That is an excellent time to talk on the phone since I am guaranteed to have discouraged everyone else from talking to me on the phone after dinner. Unless someone’s dead. That better be the reason someone calls me at night.
Nathan: Let’s call it 8:45, then.
Tata: Wednesday, 8:45 it is. Now there’s just one last thing about this cognitive testing you’ll have to know.
Nathan: What’s that?
Tata: You’re going to have to forgive me if I forget to answer the phone.

All Your Letters In the Sand

With great fanfare, the government announced recently that the 1940 census was online and searchable in its entirety, except that it wasn’t and isn’t. Two states are completely online. Rumor has it one of them is Delaware, which almost doesn’t count unless the other one is Rhode Island. I tried searching New Jersey and found only census maps that told me nothing I didn’t know because I can see New Brunswick from, well, New Brunswick’s backyard.

While I was clicking on links that went nowhere, I accidentally clicked on one that did go somewhere. The National Archive was offering some version of 1940 alien files, so I searched a very rare family name on my father’s side and got a hit. I almost fell out of my chair when it turned out the National Archive in Kansas City had some papers related to my great-grandmother. The website asked for an email with a long list of specific numbers, my relationship to the person and what exactly I wanted. Also, the public could stop by and copy these documents for itself, which seemed downright homey. I asked for copies, gave the archivist a credit card number and a couple of days ago, these documents arrived.

When filling out forms your great-grandchildren will see copies of seventy years later, please write in heavier ink.

In 2011, I put up on Facebook a picture of my father as a small boy sitting on a dock with a woman I didn’t recognize. I’d found the picture in a box and scanned it. That woman was lush and curvy and had an intricate hairdo piled high on her head. My cousin’s mother looked at that photograph and said it was this woman, whom we’ve always called Nonna. She died, as I recollect it, just about the time my sister Daria was born. The story I heard was that she was on a bus, it stopped short and she hit her head, which may or may not be malarkey. Since I have no memories of her, the picture you see on the table is the one that’s always been in my head: slim, severe, critical, unhappy. But since I have no other pictures of her, when did I see this one? And why is it so different from the one on Facebook? Are the two pictures even of the same person?

I’d like to be able to get back to the page where I found the alien file search, but I haven’t been able to find it. If you figure it out, clue me in. I have lots more Italian relatives to search for.