Toured a Memory Care Unit this morning, I wish just for the hell of it, and the experience may have operated on me like a subliminal memento mori as I just realized that, upon returning home, I served my kids the traditional Lutheran funeral lunch: ham sandwiches on little buttered buns (the kind that taste slightly sweet with a dusting of flour on top), in this case an unrealistically constrained selection of pickles and olives and other relishes, jello "salad," and a cookie—they're not old enough yet for coffee, no matter how weak it is.
Sorry girls, no marshmallow topping on the "salad," this was merely a simulation inspired, additionally or alternately, by the news that Louie Anderson died today. I'll be in need of the Memory Care Unit myself when I forget his TV debut with Johnny Carson. He walks out on the stage, allows everyone to take in the sight of him, begins, "Sorry I can't stay long, I'm between meals."
"I went to McDonald's so all the statistics have changed."
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