Tuesday, April 27, 2010

What I left out of the previous post and an update..

I dropped Mom off at her house this morning and went inside to retrieve an envelope containing her new debit cards. I had intentionally left them there because they need to be activated from her home phone and I didn't want to risk losing them. (In case you haven't been keeping track, I lose a lot of stuff).

I couldn't find them and asked Mom if she knew where they were and she uttered the words I don't often hear from her, "I think I might have thrown them away."

Understand, this is a woman who saves every scrap of paper along with plastic bags, aluminum foil, butcher paper, twist-ties, newspapers, magazines and soap slivers.

"Are you sure?" I asked incredulously.

"I thought they were just some kind of advertisement." A logical explanation, I must admit.

I removed the garbage can from under the sink. It wouldn't have been bad except for the coffee grounds.

They weren't in there. And I am SO not going to the dumpster.

"Don't worry," I said cheerfully. "I'll call the bank and have them send new ones." There was no point in making a big deal about it. This problem could be solved relatively painlessly. My pleasant attitude hit a minor bump when I learned that the bank was going to charge $5.00 and I quickly ended the call before I said something I'd regret.

Mom was waiting outside for me when I picked her up at our usual time. As she got in the car, she said to me, "You know, we are two DUMB women." Not exactly the greeting I expected, but she continued, "When you brought me back here, the door was locked."

I don't usually lock up when we are going on an errand but out of habit, I must have locked it as we were leaving.

It gets worse.

I instantly remember the point as she was getting out of the car when I looked at her purse lying in the back seat and saying to her, "You don't need your purse, do you?"
She eyed it longingly and replied, "I guess not. It's only going to be a couple hours."
I need to tell you here, my mom  and her "pocketbook" are seldom separated. She needs her purse and her purse needs her. I understand that. Whatever possessed me to tamper with the handbag laws of the universe.This could have been bad. Really bad.
"So, what did you do?" I ask, knowing that the spare door key from the garage is missing and assumed to be in Zac's possession.

"Well, the guest entry door was open."

While I am thankful, I am also wondering why it was not locked, as I clearly remember locking it sometime back and the door is never (or so I thought) used.

I thought of all the things I usually do--like make sure Mom has her purse and cane, wait until she's in the door before leaving. Things expected of a a responsible, attentive, conscientious caregiver.

And as if I wasn't feeling ashamed and inadequate enough, here were the words that struck terror to my very core, "If that ever happens again, do you think I can see good enough to drive my car to Huntley?"


Sorry for the long lapse between posts. I'm having trouble with my laptop. That's only part of the story. Maybe someday I'll fill you in on the rest. I have a huge stack of paper in my office inbox and a comparable amount of email to go through so will have to make this quick:

It's only 2 pm and I been embarrassed, elated and efficient. Let's start with
Mom had a foot appointment in Blue Earth today at the senior citizen's center. Left her there at 11:18 am, dropped off a roofing proposal, then went to the license bureau, the food co-op, the vet , the printer, the vet (again), Kwik Trip and the dollar store. Returned to pick her up at 12:07 pm. She wasn't done. Used the time to read the paper. Took her for lunch at McDonalds--her favorite--chatted with a few friends, dropped her off and was at my desk by 1:13. Now I'm back here to fritter the afternoon away....

I've been missing my mobile broadband USB stick for almost 2 months now. Last Friday, I walked into *un-named local retailer*  to buy a new one.The owner, who I have secretly named "Crazy-eyed-Mike" looked me in the eye (sort of) and convinced me to give it a little more time saying, "I thought I'd lost my drill--just couldn't find it anywhere. So I went and bought a new one. Two days later, I found the other one."

I guess it must have been some kind of divine intervention--even though I was inwardly scoffing at his comparison between losing something as large as a power drill and a 2" x 1/2" electronic device. I resigned myself to a long road trip without surfing capability and left the store empty-handed.

This morning, as I was leaving to get Mom, I reached in my purse for some lipstick, grabbed a small  rectangular object from an inside compartment and pulled this out:
Thank you crazy-eyed-Mike--I owe you big time!

This morning I was finishing off a box of Trader Joe's granola while working in my office. I usually have it with yogurt but forgot to put a carton in my bag this morning. So I was just dumping it into my palm and munching on it at my desk.
The UPS man walked into my office as I was practicing some music on my keyboard. I jumped up and signed for the package and exchanged pleasantries with the young man who, I now recall, was staring at me intently.
When I went to apply the lipstick (see Elated), I flipped down the vanity mirror in the car and saw a huge crumb of granola plastered just above my  upper lip.

It looked a lot like a booger.

But I was so elated about finding my USB stick that it barely registered on the humiliation meter.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Meeting deadlines

will forever be a challenge for me.

Except when it comes to my hair. My meticulous attention to timing of color, cut, highlights and lowlights is second only to NASA's timing of space shuttle trips to the international space station.

But I don't let a little thing like a thunderstorm or, oooohhh, lightning get in my way. Sissies..

Nothing can keep my from my every  5-week-2:30 Thursday-afternoon ritual. Screaming roots trump anything Mother Nature has up her proverbial sleeve.

I left the salon this afternoon feeling slick and sassy. Tiffany blew it dry and straightened it. I went in looking like little orphan Annie and left with red-carpet-ready shiny straightened locks.

My phone rang as I was heading for Fairmont from Truman. It was Addie.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked.

"I just got my hair done and I can't quite get over how I look." I've been growing my hair out for some time now and for the first time it actually looks long

I admired myself again in the rearview mirror:
Eyebrows playfully arched: Check.
Chunky Highlights: Check Check
Seductive sliver of hair partially covering my left eye: Check Check Check.

"Sounds like somebody's ready for a date night," she suggested.

"You know, if I only look at myself from the nose up, I look amazing."

"You and Dad should do something."

"Maybe I will give him a call. He should be done with his hearing aid appointment."

As soon as I uttered those words, the whole mood changed.

"Dad's getting a hearing aid?'

"Well, no, he and Grandma went for an evaluation."

Bad to worse. He's at a hearing aid appointment. With his mother.

Sam called when I was in the grocery store, "Are you still in town?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, "I'm heading home now."

"Do you want to go somewhere for a drink? I just got my hair done and feel like doing something."

"I don't think so. I want to get home. I've had really bad gas this afternoon."

Well, if the visual of him at the hearing aid appointment wasn't enough, this bit of information was the icing on the cake.

I came home, poured Mom and I a glass of wine and I made spaghetti carbonara.

Mom went to her room to listen to the radio and Sam and I watched Survivor together.

During a commercial he looked over at me and said, " I hardly recognized you when you came home. Your hair looks really different."

"Do you like it?"

Hey, at least he noticed.

But I am stopping short of calling this a date night. Now, Monday night's Windsor Chop Dinner at The Club in Easton for the Faribault County Township Officers Association--that was a date because Sam wore cologne.

So if I really stop and think about it, two dates in four nights would have set a dangerous precedent.