Friday, February 18, 2011
After a hilly, chilly but wonderful day with my son at the Tacoma zoo, I was worn out and ready for jammies long before I got to Bingo. But once I got there, some good news energized me: The two residents who’d been hospitalized last week were back and looking great. I’m always relieved—and awed at the power of resilience—when residents come back from the hospital.
There were quite a few more people tonight, which made for more competition, but also for more impatience. A few times Ari the Bingo caller or I would have to announce that I’d be right there as winners waited for the prized prize cart.
One time I yelled, “Here I come" and heard the musical strains of “Mighty Mouse” from Ari’s microphone. I smiled at Ari and finished the song: “To save the day!”
Ari was the life of the party tonight. As I was confirming one Bingo, I asked whether he had called G-46. It wasn’t lighted on the big Bingo board, but sometimes the lights go a little wacky.
“No, I did not call I-26,” Ari said.
“Oh,” I said. “I was asking about G-46.”
“Yes,” Ari said. “I did call G-46.”
So I read off the winner’s numbers, and when I got to G-46, Ari said, “I didn’t call G-46.”
I gave him a funny “huh?” look, and he pointed—“Gotcha!" at me. I laughed out loud. I am liking Ari.
Gary came by to talk, Billy showed me his huge new plasma TV when I gave him a push to his room and Danny wanted to contribute his own money to the Blackout prize, but I talked him into keeping it.
I had stopped to see Mike before Bingo and gave him copies of my photos from our Valentines Dinner. He’d been to Wal-Mart again and had stocked up on even more CDs (and another giant case to hold them), but once he got those pictures, they took priority.
By the time I saw him again after Bingo, he’d shown them around. And he should—he really does look like a movie star.
I told him one particular photo makes him look about 6-foot-10, and he told me about the first time he met his wife. They were at a campsite, and Mike was sitting at a fire when she asked for a light.
“I started to stand up, and by the time I uncoiled from where I was sitting, she laughed and said, ‘When are you going to stop?’ ”
We both laughed. I love that he said “uncoiled.” And I love how laughing perks up a pooped spirit. Happens a lot out here.
After a hilly, chilly but wonderful day with my son at the Tacoma zoo, I was worn out and ready for jammies long before I got to Bingo. But once I got there, some good news energized me: The two residents who’d been hospitalized last week were back and looking great. I’m always relieved—and awed at the power of resilience—when residents come back from the hospital.
There were quite a few more people tonight, which made for more competition, but also for more impatience. A few times Ari the Bingo caller or I would have to announce that I’d be right there as winners waited for the prized prize cart.
One time I yelled, “Here I come" and heard the musical strains of “Mighty Mouse” from Ari’s microphone. I smiled at Ari and finished the song: “To save the day!”
Ari was the life of the party tonight. As I was confirming one Bingo, I asked whether he had called G-46. It wasn’t lighted on the big Bingo board, but sometimes the lights go a little wacky.
“No, I did not call I-26,” Ari said.
“Oh,” I said. “I was asking about G-46.”
“Yes,” Ari said. “I did call G-46.”
So I read off the winner’s numbers, and when I got to G-46, Ari said, “I didn’t call G-46.”
I gave him a funny “huh?” look, and he pointed—“Gotcha!" at me. I laughed out loud. I am liking Ari.
Gary came by to talk, Billy showed me his huge new plasma TV when I gave him a push to his room and Danny wanted to contribute his own money to the Blackout prize, but I talked him into keeping it.
I had stopped to see Mike before Bingo and gave him copies of my photos from our Valentines Dinner. He’d been to Wal-Mart again and had stocked up on even more CDs (and another giant case to hold them), but once he got those pictures, they took priority.
By the time I saw him again after Bingo, he’d shown them around. And he should—he really does look like a movie star.
I told him one particular photo makes him look about 6-foot-10, and he told me about the first time he met his wife. They were at a campsite, and Mike was sitting at a fire when she asked for a light.
“I started to stand up, and by the time I uncoiled from where I was sitting, she laughed and said, ‘When are you going to stop?’ ”
We both laughed. I love that he said “uncoiled.” And I love how laughing perks up a pooped spirit. Happens a lot out here.
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