Aging be not proud

I am back. It is the rare Saturday post because I did not have time to post yesterday. Then again, it gives me something to write about. It was another Friday night dinner with the Outlaws. This time my attention buffer, the Lad (I really should capitalize all those people, and I will), was not with us as he was sleeping over at his friend's house. That meant I would have to engage in conversation with the Outlaws.

Do not misconstrue, I can enjoy engaging the Outlaws in conversation. It is just that my mother in law tends to go on and tell pointless stories. I would rather read the paper. My father in law is just getting worse. He asks the same question repeatedly, never remembering the question has been asked and answered before. He seems to have a problem with short term (and medium term) memory. I think he should be writing stuff down (or tattooing it to his body ala Guy Pearce in "Momento").

We arrived earlier because we had some errands to run and they turned out to take less time than we had anticipated. I walk in and find the Mogen David Concord Grape Kosher wine and that fucking bottle of Galliano on the table. Ahhh, the joy of being consistent. I have time to kill so I go into the den with the paper to read and watch television.

I notice that on the television is masking tape covering the small red LED light on the front. The red light has my father in law vexed. He cannot understand why it is there and on. Worse yet, he cannot bring himself to ignore it. I guess my mother in law put tape on it so that he would not see it and she would not have to hear about it being there. Other than the marred aesthetic of the flat screen, it is a functional and utitlitarian avoidance solution to the matter. If it works for her, it is acceptable to me. It beats her poking him with a cattle prod.

He was still vexed by the remote control. Again, he had to demonstrate how he uses it to my brother in law and I. It is just a fucking remote control. He, hell we, have been using such things for over twenty years now. What is the problem? I just cannot fathom how you cannot recall such a thing or how the only thing that has changed is the look of the remote, the function and process are the same.

We sit down to eat and asks if I want wine. Again, I tell him what he has out on the table is cough medicine and not wine. Then he asks what kind of wine the Galliano is. I tell him the same answer that I have been repeating for a few months now. I also ask why he keeps bringing it out, given that I keep telling him not to do so. I get a confused look and then he asks how "this chewed up food" got in his mouth. (Just kidding, that would be freaky)

That problem was solved when the Wife poured the Galliano down the drain and tossed the bottle. She did say that the fumes from the Galliano were making her dizzy. Maybe my father in law has been taking a nip of it. No, the bottle had not been opened in at least thirty five years. Well, there is something I won't see again and a question I won't hear again.

Well, that is all for now. Ciao!