What are the tortilla chips doing in the freezer?

All week I've been trying to pinpoint the exact moment I lost the majority of my brain cells. Because I found an open bag of tortilla chips in the freezer and I know I did it and couldn't think fast enough to blame it on someone else. I just stood there with the bag in my hand dumbfounded. I don't remember doing it, I stared at the frozen bag trying to jog my memory. I remember eating them and they were sealed tight, that's a big clue I have going against me, because I'm the only one in the house that understands the "things get stale" philosophy.

"Who put these in the....................oh."

I could see their minds churning, should we say something or just start looking for Nursing Homes that specialize in dementia?

When you think of it, they're the ones, Boy#1, Boy#2 and Boy#3, that are the reason I'm in the state I'm in now and they're the ones that will probably put me away. Funny how that works, isn't it?

We keep the chips and pretzels on top of the refrigerator, it's a stretch but the tortilla chips could have fallen off the top, made a U-turn and landed on the shelf of the freezer, maybe. I wonder if they have Internet hook up in the Nursing Homes.

Weekend Weirdos

I like to spend most of my weekends in search of the weird people, it makes blogging fun and there's so many of them out there. I've run into a bit of a blogging dry spell so this weekend is crucial. Since I wasted my Friday already because of my sunshine and lollipops mood, today I need to be particularly alert for morons. It won't be easy I have to spend part of my evening at the nursing home my mother-in-law now resides in for the next 6 - 8 weeks because of her latest fall Monday. The time I spend there will be wasted when it comes to post ideas, because the people there are sitting ducks. It would be way to easy and I have bad karma issues. I will be on my best behavior unless I can't help myself, unless ........

I selfishly push my kids into a hopeless situation. Hey there's an idea. Use the children to feed your blog. But wait, they are the ones that will be picking out my nursing home. This is a dilemma.

Remember the time we got locked in the nursing home and you freaked out?

It was a few years ago but damn it was funny. Mother-in-law had hip replacement surgery and had to convalesce in a nursing home for 3 weeks. Boy #2 and I went to visit her the day she was put in. It was later in the evening because we had to go to a school thing first.
The two of us walked in, the door shut behind us and then we saw the sign informing us of the visiting hours.
"Huh, we're late. Maybe they'll let us in since it's her first day."
In the lobby we were alone in dim lighting, office doors closed, no receptionist and a hustle and bustle going on beyond the swinging hospital doors which were locked.
"Huh, there are nurses there but they don't see us, I guess we'll have to come back tomorrow."
Boy #2 went to the front door that wouldn't open. "It's locked? Mom, it's locked."
I had to try it too, yep locked. At that time the ominous hospital door handle started to jiggle, we slowly turned around like they do in a horror movie. The jiggling grew stronger and a feeble, boney hand slowly rose up to the window, it's fingers tapped, tapped, tapped. Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle, tap, tap, tap. Boy #2 tried the door again with a renewed sense of urgency.
"One of us has to go to that door and get a nurses attention. And I'm pretty sure it has to me since you watch way too much TV and you've written us off already."
He sat on the couch and put his head in his hands.
"Look, there's a video camera monitoring us, wave your hands in front of it and get someones attention, I'll deal with death on the other side of this door."
He did as he was told, jumping up and down waving at the camera, mouthing the word HELP!
I went to the hospital door and slowly peered down through the window to find a little old lady in a wheel chair mouthing the word HELP. I asked her to get a nurse but she had a different agenda - escape.
Finally a nurse spotted me, she looked annoyed. "Visiting hours are over."
"We'll leave happily if you would just open the front door, it's locked, we're locked in."
She rattled off a security code and left. Oh there's a security key pad. Boy #2 and I stood in front of it, "What was that number again?" Fear had taken a strong hold on Boy #2 and he recited the number without hesitation.
"You can remember an eight digit number but can't remember to put you socks in the hamper?"