Saturday, November 27, 2010
Well, Bingo went better today—mostly, because it happened. But it was iffy for a minute there.
Wesley still didn’t show up on time, but one of the residents’ sons volunteered to call the numbers, which he did nicely, for the record, in a lovely Texas accent.
Bill Crowell came to play, and to propose again, but this time with even more enticement: "I think you should divorce your husband, marry me, and we’ll find a 17-year-old girl for your son," he said. I answered his question with one of my own, because this is starting to sound kind of tempting: "Would this involve a tropical island?" I asked. Bill suggested the South Pacific but mentioned that he’d like to shave first. If he throws in a fruity drink in a coconut shell next time, he just might have a deal.
Mike didn’t come to Bingo, but he was so giddy from his successful Wal-Mart outing, he zipped up to the doorway six or seven times to see when I’d be done so I could rustle through all his loot. He looked exhausted, but in a very good way.
Wesley zipped in himself just before halftime. Although Mr. Texas was filling in admirably, I was excited that Wesley still carried his Bingo connection. I think I said, "Yay."
At halftime I found Gary in Activities, reading the paper. I flicked it a few times and asked him whether it was annoying. I think it was. I tried to explain the snafu that should have been Bingo last night, and he said if he heard one more word about that … well, something unpleasant would happen. (As president of the Resident Council, Gary hears a lot of things about a lot of things. Probably few are exceptionally pleasant.)
Bingo rolled on. Mike kept rolling in. And finally I was free to share his experience. It’d been a four-hour trip, he said, from bus-loading to bus-loading. But Wal-Mart didn’t have another Elvis CD set, so Mike kept his busted guitar candle after all. And not only did he buy several new CDs (bagpipes!), a giant CD case and rechargeable batteries, but another resident dropped off a few used ones for Mike to take on a test spin. Mike was totally wiped out, but thrilled with his accomplishments. And so was I. Mike was alive with the sound of music.
Well, Bingo went better today—mostly, because it happened. But it was iffy for a minute there.
Wesley still didn’t show up on time, but one of the residents’ sons volunteered to call the numbers, which he did nicely, for the record, in a lovely Texas accent.
Bill Crowell came to play, and to propose again, but this time with even more enticement: "I think you should divorce your husband, marry me, and we’ll find a 17-year-old girl for your son," he said. I answered his question with one of my own, because this is starting to sound kind of tempting: "Would this involve a tropical island?" I asked. Bill suggested the South Pacific but mentioned that he’d like to shave first. If he throws in a fruity drink in a coconut shell next time, he just might have a deal.
Mike didn’t come to Bingo, but he was so giddy from his successful Wal-Mart outing, he zipped up to the doorway six or seven times to see when I’d be done so I could rustle through all his loot. He looked exhausted, but in a very good way.
Wesley zipped in himself just before halftime. Although Mr. Texas was filling in admirably, I was excited that Wesley still carried his Bingo connection. I think I said, "Yay."
At halftime I found Gary in Activities, reading the paper. I flicked it a few times and asked him whether it was annoying. I think it was. I tried to explain the snafu that should have been Bingo last night, and he said if he heard one more word about that … well, something unpleasant would happen. (As president of the Resident Council, Gary hears a lot of things about a lot of things. Probably few are exceptionally pleasant.)
Bingo rolled on. Mike kept rolling in. And finally I was free to share his experience. It’d been a four-hour trip, he said, from bus-loading to bus-loading. But Wal-Mart didn’t have another Elvis CD set, so Mike kept his busted guitar candle after all. And not only did he buy several new CDs (bagpipes!), a giant CD case and rechargeable batteries, but another resident dropped off a few used ones for Mike to take on a test spin. Mike was totally wiped out, but thrilled with his accomplishments. And so was I. Mike was alive with the sound of music.