Car-ridin’ dawg

When I arrived at Mom’s home today, she was in bed taking a nap. I went in to say hello and she told me she was really, really tired. So I said I’d just let her rest instead of going for a ride in the car. She sat up and said she’d rather get up and go for a ride, adding one of her standard Lucia-isms:

“You know me, I’m a car-ridin’ dawg.”

She got up and put on a hat, and we drove over to Denny’s for the usual — a piece of pie and a cup of coffee.

I hadn’t had lunch yet, so I ordered a veggie burger for myself. Lucia was working on her hot apple pie a la mode when the waiter brought my order. It came with a big pile of french fries. I asked Lucia if she wanted some and she immediately answered with another of her standards:

“My name’s Jimmy, I’ll take what you gimme.”

She was in good form.

She did get a tiny bit mixed up about where we were, but in her defense I have to say that all Denny’s restaurants look pretty much alike, from Alburquerque to Saskatoon. She thought we were “out in that sandy old desert by Los Angeles.” It was a totally natural stream-of-consciousness progression that started with her reminiscing about hot apple pie being one of Daddy’s rest-stop favorites on our trips down to see Grandma in Fontana.

She thought it, she said it, bada bing bada boom, she was there.

When we left Denny’s, got in the car and drove around the corner where she could see the hills, she immediately started talking about how glad she is that she lives right there in that “beautiful part of the country. I asked her if she was happy to be back home and she said, “Oh, yes! It’s always a relief to get home.”

Bada bing bada boom.

Totally psychedelic. From Hayward to Fontana and back in less than five minutes. And all in her mind. Yeah, baby.

Lady on a train

I just found this photo of Lucia, taken shortly after she moved to Hayward. We went for a ride on the Niles Canyon Railway and she was absolutely enthralled by the scenery. I took this blurry shot with my cell phone. It’s bad quality but I love it. It’s a quintessential portrait of an old woman. Her hands are amazing, as is the expression on her face.One of these days I’ll paint it.

Lucia Craig

One of the blessings of dementia is forgetting things you don’t necessarily want to remember, like owing $100 to your nosy neighbor or being afraid of men in plaid shirts. What Lucia can’t remember is having a pot belly and the dreaded “big, broad ass” that she so vocally condemns.

At a recent trip to Denny’s for a piece of pie and a cup of coffee, she looked down at her hands and commented on how “bony” they are now. Then she shared her secret to a slim figure:

When you get old, you get skinny. That’s just how it is.

Who needs Jenny Craig?

I’m walkin’ here!

Lucia-isms aren’t always sugar and spice. Or everything nice.

The other day we went to Denny’s to get a piece of hot apple pie a la mode and a cup of decaf. It was, as she is fond of saying, “too-licious!”

But all that sugar must have gotten her dander up. As we were leaving, we had to move past a family waiting in the foyer to be seated. Lucia often pats strangers on the butt just to let them know (a) she likes the way they look, or (b) she thinks they have a big butt. This time she didn’t pat. She swatted.

And, in a priceless Midnight Cowboy flashback, she said:

Move your broad ass! I’m walkin’ here!

I had to rush into damage control mode — apologies, explanations, etc. — but it was really hard to keep from laughing out loud at Lucia’s spot-on, if unintentional, Ratso Rizzo impression.