And breathe . . .

Today has been full, fun and somewhat productive. It went something like this:

• Go to a wonderful, uplifting church service
• Return home at 12:30
• Devour a granola bar, swig some milk, grab my umbrella, and head out the door by 12:34
• Catch a bus into Oakland
• Help out at a Stories for the Summer event held at an assisted living community featuring some of my classmates
• Return home
• Chat online with a friend or two
• Read for class
• Apply for a job at MIT
• Blog

Any number of these could have an entry of their own, but the only one receiving one tonight is the storytelling event. I wanted to go because I knew it would be a rewarding experience and I wanted to support my friends who were selected to tell tales. To be honest, though, I've never liked nursing homes, so I was dreading the institutional feel and the smells and sights I associate with such places. This, however, was quite nice. It almost looked like an expensive hotel.

As I was not telling a story today, my professor asked me to go out into the hallway and catch people as they came out of a little chapel one room over to see if they would like to join us. A few people kind of smiled at me and went on their way to their rooms and others made excuses why they couldn't go, but a good number of residents did choose to attend the story session. One adoreable little lady said she would like to attend but then whispered to me that she had to go to Wal-Mart.

After I had coralled as many elderly as I could into the atrium room, I joined them to hear the last three of five tellers. Watching the expressions of those I could see, I found one woman, especially, who seemed to be really enjoying the stories. And I'm not positive, but she may have been the one who felt the need to explain the punch lines and important events to those around her. Whether this was necessary, I don't know, but at least she was entertained. One man in the back of the room fell asleep. How he could sleep through my friend Jasmin's story and her yelling of AyAyAy is hard to comprehend, but he did it somehow.

There were carts of lemonade and little cakes for after the event; however, there was no one to serve them, so my classmates and I quickly jumped to the task. I was quite proud, I must say. I didn't even spill one drop of lemonade! I wonder if I missed my calling as a waitress . . . nah! We passed out refreshments to the residents and then helped ourselves before mingling with the elderly, who really were quite sharp, mentally, and a pleasure to talk to for the most part. I suppose that is one of the differences from a traditional nursing home, that these people are still physically and mentally able to take care of themselves, at least to an extent. I really must make reference, if only in passing, to the resident flirt, a charming man who sat at the back of the room and told one woman that she had put her finger in his drink while serving him and had thereby made it so sweet he could hardly drink it.

I had many compliments on my dress (really, it is a great dress) and necklace. Someone told me it looked like a real family hierloom, and I suppose it probably does, though I bought it new just a few weeks ago. The nicest compliment I received, though, came from one of my classmates and was quite unexpected. Abby was one of the chosen tellers and one of the two I missed today, but she really does a nice job. Anyway, we were standing, figuring out the refreshments, and she said she had wanted to tell me what a nice job she thought I had done in this class all semester. It's possible that she was just being kind, but she really did sound sincere. She said she was impressed with the way I always delivered my stories so well and with such confidence. This was not my opinion of myself, but we are our own harshest critics, and someone standing near Abby did agree with her. Little did they know that it was only a perceived confidence. In reality, I was terribly nervous, but I guess that didn't show somehow. Hopefully this "skill" will follow me if I ever do get any job interviews. We shall see.

And now the final bullet point:

• Go to bed