Where's the ice?

OK, I've held my tongue long enough.

One thing we've always been able to count on as Southerners is a lot of ice in our cold drinks. But ever since I moved back home from Pittsburgh in 2004 I've noticed what can only be described as a Yankee trend-- that cold drinks apparently don't need anything more than a scattering of ice cubes across the top of the glass. Used to be, you'd go to the drive-up, get your cold drink and it would be absolutely packed full of ice. My Yankee husband disagrees with this practice; he says you don't get all the Co-Cola or sweet tea you paid for. I say you need that fully-packed cup of ice to keep your drink properly chilled on a hot day-- or on any day, for that matter. Also if your sweet tea was just made and still warm, all that ice will help cool it off.

The only reason this came boiling out of me today is that I went to the Wendy's drive-up today and specifically told them "no lemon and LOTS OF ICE." What did I get? A few measly cubes and a warm cup of sweet tea. Blecchh!

I say this is a Yankee trend because I noticed back in 1978 during my first foray to New York City that they put hardly any ice into the drinks. In Canada, I noticed they don't put any ice at all. So I figure the farther North you go, the less ice you get. That's why I looked forward to getting back to North Carolina after four years of tepid drinks in Pittsburgh.

But now I find that so many Yankees have transplanted themselves here, the little-or-no-ice trend is apparently here to stay.

Hey, South Carolina! Y'all got any ice down there?

Postcards from the edge

I have debated whether to write about this for some time, but maybe it will help others who are going through the same experience.

My 82-year-old mother was diagnosed at least 12 years ago with dementia. We don't know what caused it or how long it's actually been going on, but it really started manifesting itself a few years before her official diagnosis.

I bring this up now because for the first time in at least three or four years, she's having delusions again. Now this is at the same time funny and sad - funny because it's easier to laugh than cry. Sad because Mama is a fiercely independent and intelligent woman who has always taken the world on her own terms.

I noticed several weeks ago that she began talking about an elderly gentleman who lives in the same assisted living facility as she. She said he liked her, but she wasn't interested because he smokes and has Alzheimer's. Now, all of a sudden, she thinks she is married to this man (or getting married, depending on which story you get) and is outraged that we haven't invited him to Easter dinner. She absolutely gushes about how much she loves him. I decided to observe more closely to try and find out what's going on, so I took her to lunch the other day. In the middle of an otherwise uneventful lunch (during which she never brought up her gentleman friend), she blurted out that she had pulled a family friend out of a burning house 75 miles away the night before, then calmly added, "These vegetables are really good...they're crunchy," as if the needle had been picked up off a record album and set down in a different place.

I have dealt with this since the early 1990s, but I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to do. The experts say not to encourage the delusions, but not to challenge them either, because the delusional person is apt to become even more steadfast in her beliefs. Just nod politely and say, "Uh-huh," I guess.

Easier said than done when that person is your mother.

Who-who-who's there?

Like the swallows returning to San Capistrano... like the buzzards coming home to roost in Hinckley, Ohio... the barred owls are back in Kernersville! I guess it's a sure sign of spring. These owls have been hooting and carrying on the woods behind the house for the last week or two, like a couple of lovestruck teenagers. I mean at all hours. It's really very cool... like old friends returning from last year. Welcome back, owls!