Rate of Absorption

A couple weeks ago, I got to see my favorite baby person learn to stand. Her play-gym (think zig-zag, like a mini room divider) was on two sides of her, and her dad was lying on the floor blocking her into a small square. He coached her with simple, smiling sentences and let her pull herself up on his densely tattooed forearm. She'd find her balance as he held her sides lightly then took his hands just barely away. When she realized she was standing, she'd draw a surprised breath, her eyes widening, then start to bounce and shake her hands with excitement. Soon she'd fall forward - the interval increasing each time - and JP would catch her. She started to laugh each time at the discovery of this standing business, and again after the fall as JP stood her upright again. The first fall alarmed her, but as she realized her father was there to catch her every time, it became part of the game, a thrilling adrenal reward after balancing on her feet. She started to recognize when her balance was about to fail, and would stretch her arms out to JP, looking up at him on the way down.
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So far, my favorite thing I've done in an improv scene that I remember: In a three-line scene about discoveries, Jess said to me in an evilly throaty voice, "Come with me if you want to live." I drew a breath, looking up in shock and said, "I do! I do want to live!" And with that joyous realization, I followed her offstage.

That might even be one of my favorite moments in my whole life.

Have I mentioned how much I'm enjoying doing improv? How much I love to play, not just sit on the sidelines (even though I'm still kind of afraid of skating away from the wall)? That was the insult-to-injury in stage-managing: not only was there the all-consumingness of the schedule (sleep-deprived much?) and taking the blame for everything while having control over nothing; I had to watch everyone else have fun. I had to shush them and correct them, and pretend I felt good about the whole situation.

Okay, the shushing is occasionally a little fun for me. It's really just that any given activity goes so much better for me when I can hear and focus.

I'm weird about age. It gives me anxiety attacks to be in classes with people half my age. When the teacher is ten or twelve years younger than me, it makes me wonder what the hell I've done with my life. I even switched dentists because when my old one retired, his practice was taken over by a guy who listened to the same music as me. While I don't expect it to make up for the lack of training and study thus far, I hope my advanced life experience speeds up my learning curve. Not that I think I ought to be in the same league as others in my demographic... I just know that life is short.
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I've spent most of this week with Grandma. Monday she had an evaluation at one of the retirement homes she was considering. It did not go so hot. According to this particular facility, which I will not name (but if you need a non-recommendation, ask me privately), her inability to recreate a placemat design with fabric shapes has a direct correlation to the possibility that she'd wander away from the building. Yeah, they wanted to put her in a locked unit with people who are empty shells. Because that's a great way to keep someone interested in living.

Yes, she forgets names and mixes up dates, and it's hard at her age (86) to learn new tasks. She's recently started using a walker, and that's going well, but she's never gotten the hang of the cell phone my aunt got her. That's only to be expected. She's still a good conversationalist, and she still keeps her house, clothing and self clean.

Tuesday we visited The Atriums, and the contrast was remarkable. The owner herself, a kind and vibrant woman of seventy-something, talked with us and showed us around. Residents were having fun in the common areas - we managed to show up for the May Birthdays party (yay, cake!) - and several old friends of Grandma's came up to her asking when she was moving in, and telling her how much she'd love it. When we first got there, of course, Grandma was nervous and quiet, but by the time we left she couldn't wait to come back!

She's excited now about getting to move, and being around friends and having easy access to activities. It's sort of like the aging experience has picked up a college dorm phase, and she's still healthy enough to enjoy it. She doesn't feel an attachment to her house - she's only lived there three years, after quite a few in an apartment. She's lived alone since Grandpa died in 1984, and she sold the longtime family home in 1991. She'll still maintain some degree of solitude - she's that sort, as am I - but she won't be isolated. She'll visit for a week-long stay later this week, and if all goes well (knock wood), we'll plan the move after that. I'll continue to see her often... I just won't be as worried about her remembering to turn off the coffeepot!