Yesterday was Saint Patrick's day to the world, but to me it was a Birthday which felt like it would be my last one on earth.
Early in the day, I ran all of my errands – shopping, wash car, fill tires, vacuum inside of vehicle, trim beard, clean house, etc. Only one small detail remained as the hour for my reservation at favorite Northern Italian eatery drew near: Getting my Alzheimer's Spouse dressed and out of the house.
We had already been through the closet jammed full of female clothing and selected a colorful suit, comprised of a long sleeved dress with matching jacket and she had modeled it for me. No problem, right? Wrong, wrong wrong! She was absolutely unable to don the garment this time, and the harder that she tried the more confused that she became.
I volunteered to help. Each attempt kept winding up with head trying to enter sleeve openings or backwards or both, plus more twisted combinations and permutations that defied description. Finally managing to extricate her from the tangled jumble of cloth, I pulled a matching skirt and sweater out of the closet. No luck. She had become so fat that the closure elements of the skirt were far apart.
Racking my brain as to what to do next, I remembered that my next door neighbor's schoolteacher daughter was visiting during spring break. I decided to make a desperate panic request for her to rush over and help. No answer on the telephone. They must already be out enjoying their St. Patrick's Day dinner somewhere. By now, we had degenerated into the yelling and screaming phase and my only viable recourse seemed to be trying my hand at Hara Kiri. The dinner hour was drawing near and I hadn't even dressed myself. I yanked out of the closet another short sleeved dress with one simple zipper in the back and demanded that she try that. I pulled it over her head and zipped up the zipper. Success! Pulse pounding, blood pressure something like 1000 over 500, I located my trousers, jacket, shirt with obligatory green tie and covered my aching body.
Arriving at the restaurant, there were a surprising number of empty tables for a holiday. It was reassuring to be greeted by my favorite server, whom I know by name from former visits. (At this point, I am uncertain if my spouse can even remember my name.) Fifty or more reminders that it was my birthday only elicited: “You never told me.”
After careful perusal of the menu, I began with a memorable Caesar Grigliato for myself. Remembering my spouse's limited capacity, I only give her a one bite taste from my fork. For her entrée, I stick to a previously successful Marsala di Pollo, which they serve with Chianti rigatalli pasta & wilted spinach. I opt for the Filetto di Manzo Ripieno Seared beef tenderloin medallion stuffed with crab served atop saffron & sun-dried tomato risotto, finished with roasted garlic butter sauce.
Food selected, with the capable help of our server we settle upon a Castello di Bossi 2005 Chianti Classico. It was somewhat closed when I took my approval taste, but kept opening up as the meal progressed, revealing layers of wild berries, some plum, cherries, violets and nicely restrained oak. After a while, our server brought out a massive decanter, impressive in itself and helping admirably with the aeration of the wine, which kept getting better and better. The wine in turn kept untangling the Gordian Knot which was in my stomach when we first entered the premises.
Massive disasters at least turned into a temporary pleasant ending to a day on which I was born.