Celebration (2 of 2): Pama consumption.

In addition to making up Pama jello shots, I also made up some Pama jello jigglers-type things.

The shots were okay, in my opinion - my client and her (lesbian) sister liked them a lot, but I thought they needed some sugar added in - but I thought the Pama jello jigglers were pretty awesome, and I'd even make them for a summer barbecue or something to take over to someone's place, somehow the different form and the firmer gelatin made them work, in a way that they didn't as a shot, even though the flavor was the same.

Also, the sister got to reminiscing about how a number of yeas ago she made up a lot of jello shots for an organizational anniversary party for the one (lesbian) chorus that she's been a long-time member of.

"They're fun, and plus you have to stick your tongue in and slurp and, you know, we're lesbians," she was like.

Celebration (1 of 2): Pama preparation.

In order to celebrate completion of a large project, I was thinking of getting some liquor to maybe drink with my one assisted living client with disabilities and her (lesbian) sister, so I asked them about that, and the sister said that Pama was a good choice, and then since I knew she likes jello shots and had mentioned making some before, I thought out loud about trying to make Pama jello shots, which she got psyched about and which she picked up some unflavored gelatin for the next time that she happened to be at the small neighborhood store near where she lives.

And, since the liquor store near their apartment didn't have any Pama, I decided to stop through the one liquor store that's on the street going to the resthome to see if they had any there, which they did.

As I was going through checkout, the one (taller) (boobs up) (hips out) (hourglass-shaped) (blonde tinted) (older middle-aged) (white) (and possibly Italian-American) lady who works there and who always wears black picked up the bottle and showed it to her (younger) (Latino) (guy) co-worker and was like, "Ever try this? It's good, it's pomegranate, I had a four-day hangover from this from New Year's a few years ago."

"Really?", I was like, gently entering the conversation. "I've never tried it, but I'm getting it to celebrate with a friend, since it's a favorite of hers."

"Yeah, it's sweet, you don't notice," she was like.

Then, she paused and was like, "But it's not like that, we had been drinking for eight hours, Prosecco and Pama, they go good together, that's what we were drinking, or a nice light pilsner, too, just pour a little on the bottom of the glass before you pour the beer in."

Then, she shrugged and was like, "It's good stuff."

Take-out just doesn't register with me.

 Take-out just doesn't register with me.

Apart from pizza, so much food is just shittier when you order it out and eat it at home.

And also, what's up with all of the take-out containers that you have left over?

So wasteful!

A story of a name.

The other week at work, I asked my one (newer) (Filipina) coworker who's the sister of my one other (Filipina) coworker where she got her nickname from, since her full first name on paper when I saw it was something Spanish, and it looked nothing like what we call her around the resthome.

"Oh, that was my name for myself when I was a baby, I couldn't say my name," she was like.

Then, she threw on an excited parent face, and she said her name like three times fast in a cute voice like she was talking playfully to a toddler.

The next time I saw her, too, I told her that I liked the story of her name, and I threw on an excited parent face and recited her name three times fast in a cute voice like I was talking playfully to a toddler, and she laughed.

Two memories of resthome folks:

1) Attending Charles de Gaulle's funeral.

(From the [French] hairdresser guy who works in the resthome salon, who added that he held his father's hand, and people kept saluting his father.)

2) Seeing an elevator operator in the big office building where the family doctor was way back when, when they were a very small child and their parents would take them there.

(From the one retired contractor guy who has a good sense of humor.)

You know how often I eat from bowls?

Last month I went to go reheat some leftovers from a staff meal at the resthome, and I realized that my plates from my standard plate set that I've had forever don't fit inside my microwave unless you tilt them diagonally to get them in and past the door lip.

And I've had this microwave now for eons, like at least 6 or 7 years! And I use it multiple times a week!

Delicate scrap:

A very thin and very brown piece of a paper-like substance that I find on the floor by the armchair in my living room, that I eventually realize is a scrap of kiwi skin that must have fallen out of a bowl of kiwi and orange slices that I had eaten over by there like a week earlier, and that I had kept orange peels and kiwi skin in for a while as I sat there and read until I was finally ready to go and take the scraps into the kitchen and throw them out.