The dark side of getting old: Stuff hurts. Your bones and your skin and your muscles become delicate. Despite the best efforts of caretakers, it is easy to get bruised or worse. Painkillers become a part of daily life unless you’re live your life in bubblewrap. The sort of painkillers I’m talking about are narcotic, and these can cause constipation.

When you’re young, even the worst blockage can usually be cured with a massive dose of something foul and greasy, or an enema of some sort. It’s apparently not so easy when you get old. Sometimes your friendly caretakers have to take matters into their own hands—literally—to help out their charges.

The lighter side of this: The other day a man at gram’s nursing facility—apparently, an habitual sufferer of constipation—was hollering a blue streak in the next room. Gram said “Uh oh! I think the fairies are out.” Mom asked “What do you mean ”the fairies”?” Gram archly replied “You know: The FINGER fairies!”

I got a craving for herring in sour cream today. This happens about every 4 years, and I don’t know what brings it on. It’s powerful, and best satisfied immediately and wholeheartedly. I ate two jars of it throughout the course of the day. Shut up.

I also decided to make another pineapple upsidedown cake. This one is going straight up to the nursing home for gram and the caretakers. Hopefully it doesn’t have too much cat hair in it. The new cat (Pumpkin) decided to supervise today. He’s just barely smart enough not to stick his paw in a skillet sizzling with butter and brown sugar. Barely.

And since all of that was going so well, I also made a spaghetti sauce for no reason whatsoever. It’s a meat sauce featuring a lot of green olives and capers. I’m going to have to freeze it. I have a whole pot full of it.