Making Your Own Fun

Since I've been a single mother forever, there were many times when I couldn't exactly afford big-time fun like a trip to Disneyland or a cruise.  So we had to make our own fun.  And even now that our financial situation isn't like it was when I first left my husband, we still like to do goofy things that amuse us to no end.

One of the first things Kitty did was fun in retrospect, but not at the time.  She was still a toddler, and I had her and Brie in the back seat as I was driving.  I turned into our local shopping center, and unbeknownst to me Kitty had disengaged herself from her car seat.  The next thing I knew, a little pair of hands were over my eyes and her little voice said, "Guess who?"  As the car veered around the parking lot I said, "Kitty! Mommy is trying to drive!" so she sat back down, chortling as her sister giggled.  Oh yeah: great fun kids!

Kitty liked to have all kinds of fun with her sister: although Brie didn't consider it fun.  Like the time she was in her room reading an R.L. Stine book, which was rather spooky.  So she never heard her sister crawl in the room, crouch by her bed, turn her eyelids inside out and then pop up yelling "Boo!"  At this point Brie jumped up screaming, then started to cry as her sister laughed and laughed.  Good times!

Even Luna would get in on the act.  When she was a kitten, she would climb up the back of the couch, and if you were laying on the couch she would jump onto your stomach, knocking the wind out of you.  Fun for her, but after the 5th time or so: not so much for you!  She'd also sit in front of the couch while you laid on it, then crouch down and launch herself directly at your face.  After you'd scream and jump, she'd actually only be clinging to the side of the couch: not really trying to gouge out your eyes or anything.  Furry fun!

We also did what you'd consider "normal" fun activities, like go out to eat, go to the Great Escape and travel a bit, but it seems like the more creative we get: the more fun it is.  Well, maybe creative is too stong a word, but you be the judge:

For instance, as I mentioned in a previous blog, I was watching Michael Flatley on the View.  Later that evening Brie and Pumpkin came to visit me in my room, and I told Brie that he was back on tour.  She mentioned that she couldn't understand how anyone could do that Riverdancing, and I said, "It's not that tough: watch."  Then I got up and proceeded to do my version of Riverdancing.  It probably would have looked halfway dignified, except for the fact that Pumpkin likes to dance too.  So unbeknownst to me, I was dancing and Pumpkin was on her hind legs dancing too, and Brie just laughed and laughed.  Dancing fun!

And speaking of dancing: Brie just loves when I try to dance like the chicks you see in the club or in videos.  But due to the fact that I have buns of steel, I am unable to make my booty clap because it's too toned, I can't stripper shake for the same reason, and if I try to drop it like it's hot there is absolutely no sexy way for me to get back up again!

When she was a temp where I worked, I invented a game called "Dear Diary".  In this game, I would send her an email under the guise of some guy she liked, and make it seem like an entry into a diary.  Oh yes: hijinks would ensue each time we'd do this!  We thought we were hilarious and as we'd type them up we'd be chuckling to ourselves, and try to outdo each other.  Work fun!

But what Brie finds to be the most fun is when we play "hula charades", and act out scenes from her love life.  I have discovered that I can hula pretty well, but it was hard to act out the scene where her current "interest" was at a hockey game, walked halfway around the arena to make sure I saw him, walked up the steps to get a beer and some popcorn, then walked back to his seat to eat the popcorn and drink the beer.  Challenging, but I believe I pulled it off.

Just goes to show that you don't need have to spend a lot to have fun: it just takes some imagination and a sense of humor!

A.K.A Nicky

It’s time for me to talk about the smallest member of our family.  That would be Ms. Pumpkin Louise, our long-haired Chihuahua.

We are absolutely stupid over that dog: all 5 pounds of her.  She’s fawn and white and she turned 1 back in October.  Pumpkin is gorgeous.  Unlike her siblings, her eyes never turned dark brown but went from totally blue to a blue-green, depending on the light.   Both of her parents are show dogs and she’s pedigreed, so she has a lot going for her.  And contrary to normal Chihuahua behavior: there is no nervous peeing, no yapping or snapping.  She doesn’t even bark!  We’d had her for 6 months before our landlord, who lives next door in the townhouse to our left, even knew we had a dog! And he only discovered that because he came over one day.  He fell in love with her just like everyone else who comes in contact with her!

Actually, Pumpkin isn’t the dog we were supposed to have.  When the breeder called to tell us that the puppies had been born, she said we could come over in a few weeks to see which one we wanted.  So she would email us pictures and Kitty would talk about which puppy she wanted.  She wasn’t too picky, as long as it was a female.

So even though we knew we couldn’t take a puppy until it was 8 weeks old, Christine (the breeder) let us come over a few times to get acquainted with the puppies, and said Kitty could have pick of the litter.  (Of course, she’s Her Majesty Ms. Kitty and the world gives her whatever she wants).  There were two females and two males.  Of the females, one was larger than the other one but otherwise they looked like twins.  Kitty felt more of a kinship with the larger girl, so she’d hold her and call her Pumpkin while I held all the other ones and tried to sneak them home in my pockets.  They were sooo cute!!  If we could have gotten more than one we sure would have!  But it was fun watching Kitty bond.

A couple of weeks later the puppies were able to walk around and play; so we went over to Christine’s again.  Kitty got on the floor facing the big girl and said, “Come here Pumpkin.”  The little runt of the litter came toddling over.  “No no, come here Pumpkin!”  The big girl didn’t even turn her head but the tiny one came over again.  “You’re not Pumpkin.”  “Are you sure she’s not?” I asked her.  “Pumpkin’s the big girl, not this little one.”

At this point Christine said, “Well, it seems as if the little one wants to be Pumpkin since she’s answering to that name.  I was calling her Nicky, but she seems to like Pumpkin better.  I’ll tell you what: you can have the little girl.  I’d honestly prefer the bigger girl because when I breed her she’ll have bigger puppies.  Plus I’d like to show her, and I don’t know how the little one will do.”

I liked the little one, runt or not, and told Kitty so.  And she seemed to want to come home with us, so when the time came we brought Pumpkin, aka Nicky, home with us.

Now you might think that the breeder got the best out of that deal by giving us the runt of the litter. But I’ll tell you what: we’re the ones who ended up with the only show quality pup in the bunch!  Afterwards the breeder and I would schedule the puppies’ vet visits at the same time so they could visit.  And our Pumpkin was the one whose ears perked up early and on their own (no taping).  Her “bite” didn’t go off.  She had the show stance and the show prance.  And so much personality!  She’s so social and loves to play.  Whenever I’d see the breeder she’d ask if we’d like to show her, but the answer is always no.  We got her as a pet, not to live the life of a show dog.  I’ve seen that life, and we didn’t want it for Pumpkin.

So Pumpkin lives a good life with us.  She has 2 adopted sisters which are cats, and they know she is “baby sister”.  Victoria weighs 16 pounds and Luna weighs 10.  I love to watch them play because Pumpkin is so low to the ground and aerodynamically designed, she literally runs rings around the cats and the entire living room.  All the cats can do is lie in wait and try to pounce as she runs by, and it’s very amusing to me.

What isn’t that amusing is the fact that even though she’s not my dog, she sleeps with me every night.  I had always vowed that I’d never sleep with an animal (after my ex-husband, haha) but she’s been sleeping with me since shortly after we got her.  One night Luna kind of attacked her (flexing her diva muscle, apparently) so the girls told me to let her sleep with me for a couple of nights until Luna got more used to her being in the house. 

That was over a year ago.  The dog has 3 beds in the house, but when she wants “snoozie” she has to be in my bed.  Oh, and no TV or lights on, thank you. I have to be on the bed with her.  If not, she’ll start out by just staring at me with those big eyes.  If I still stay on the computer, then she’ll lean a little to the right.  Nothing from grammy?  Then she’ll put up one little paw and start shaking.  If I am still being hard-hearted, she’ll emit the tiniest of whimpers.  That gets me every time...

Everyone that meets Pumpkin gets all excited at the prospect of her having puppies so they can have one.  Who wouldn't want a puppy from the best little dog in the world?  But after much discussion, we've decided that we will not breed her.  She's the baby, and we don't want some freaky-deaky male Chihuahua having his way with her!  Besides, she'd have to have like 12 litters to accommodate all the puppy requests!  So until cloning becomes common: there's only one adorable Pumpkin Louise :o)

Not On My Show!

First of all, this is in no way, shape or form what I had planned to blog about.  However, I am in my room "watching" an episode of the View that I had DVR'ed.  The guest I wanted to see is Michael Flatley, the Lord of the Dance.  Yes: I'm a dork but I love Riverdance and lots of other Celtic stuff.  And guess what: he will be releasing the film "Lord of the Dance 3D" soon.  Whoo hoo!  Can't wait to see it!

Anyway, as I'm listening to the show they announced their first guest who was Marisa Tomei, an actress that, you know, is pretty good.  Loved her in the Wrestler!  But as I glanced at the screen to see what she was wearing, she comes out in this flowing, bronzy low-cut dress and of course she's not wearing a b-r-a.  Seriously?  That just annoyed me for some reason today.  Does she not care that...there are 'personal' effects that can be seen when you wear a thin dress and no b-r-a? Did she not realize that she was on the View, and no men were going to be watching?  What was up with that?

So at that moment I decided that when I have my talk show, one of the rules is going to be that all women must wear a b-r-a.  No bouncing and jouncing on my set!  Have a little dignity ladies!  You're not on the beach: you're on TV!  If I'm wearing one: everyone has to wear one!

Okay: rant is over now.  Look at Michael Flatley: he looks great!  And they're getting ready to bring out his dance troupe to perform; and I have to watch and not just listen to that!  So now I owe you a blog about what I was originally going to write.  I don't know if I'll do it later, since it's a JP Bruno's night (shout out to Perry and Funk Evolution!).  Hey: maybe Hockey Guy will be there.  Good thing I got my hair done today.

Plus, I can't hide out here in my room for too long. I have a corned beef cooking.  I know it's not St. Patrick's Day, but we needed to have corned beef and cabbage today.  My sister was nice enough to send us some on Thursday since I was sick.  (shout out to J-Bird!)

So back to the View! (and no, I'm not talking about Michael Flatley's butt) :o)

Daddy Clank

Today is more than just the Ides of March: it would have been my parents’ 52^nd wedding anniversary.  My father died in October 2004, and I still miss him; even though I do have nocturnal “visits” from him.  They are too real to be just dreams; and it helps me to see him and talk to him in my dreams.  And he looks great, so I’m pretty sure he went in the right direction J

So in honor of my father, I’m going to share a couple of stories about him that really let you know he was more “sinner” than “saint”.

When I was a little girl, the biggest, smartest, most wonderful man in the world was my father Clarence, aka Daddy Clank.  How did he get this nickname?  When my two older brothers (Jeff and Earl) and I were little, Earl, the clever one, gave him the moniker because he said dad was old and ran like robot.  This was proven wrong; when we made up a song about him whose chorus was “stupid, boopid a pocketful of woo pits.”  He wasn’t running like a robot then when he caught us and gave us a spanking!  He also didn’t have a pocket full of woo pits, whatever those were supposed to be!

During my school years all of the mothers in town would say to me, “Your father is the most handsome man in South Glens Falls.”  I remember thinking, “Are you kidding?” but when I look back, my father was a very good-looking man.  He always took pride in his appearance and wore the spiffiest tailor-made suits around.  He was a church deacon and ascended to the highest offices in the New York American Legion Organization, the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the Disabled Veterans of America.  Of course I take after him…As a matter of fact; my family nickname came from him.  When he worked as a machinist at Hercules, his nickname was “Debbie”, derived from our last name.  So when he had a daughter who resembled him, what was her nickname?  That’s right, “little Debbie” which later got shortened to just Debbie.  I guess that was after I wasn’t so little…  Well it could have been worse: my sister’s nickname was “rabbit” and my baby brother’s is Clanky.   So I guess in the grand scheme of things, Debbie ain’t too bad!

I always admired my father.  He was a good provider, worked hard and took care of his family.  Although most of the child-rearing chores were left to my mother, he did the disciplining but also the treating, as well.  Every Wednesday, which was payday, he’d come home with everyone’s favorite treat: Smarties for me, bubble gum for Earl and Twizzlers for Jeff.  Ah, those were the days, before the 2^nd generation kids arrived!

But he wasn’t perfect.  Nope, Daddy Clank liked to “tip the bottle a little”, or as he liked to say, “go see the turkey drink water” to unwind.  Of course, my mother heartily disapproved of this and tried to get him to not go out and drink.  But Daddy Clank was clever, almost as clever as Keith.  I remember one evening he said to us kids, “Hey, who wants an ice cream cone?”  “I do, I do!” my brothers and I yelled.  “We want chocolate, strawberry and chocolate marshmallow!”  Then he went to my mother and said, “Marie, I’m just going to drive to Stewart’s and get the kids an ice cream cone.  I’ll be right back.”  “Clarence, are you really going to get ice cream for the kids?”  “Of course I am!”  Well, needless to say, that was the last we saw of my father that night.  We were little, maybe 4, 6, and 7, so once it was bed time we forgot all about it.

The next afternoon we were playing out in the front yard, and suddenly Jeff sees my father walking down the street heading for home.  Now, he may not have remembered where he left the car, but sure enough, in a cardboard carrier, he had our 3 ice cream cones!  And that’s what redeemed Daddy Clank in our childish eyes.

My father was always my biggest fan.  No matter what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be, he was there cheering me on.  At my Girl Scout talent shows, he bragged that his daughter was the best dancer there.  When I modeled in college and worked a fashion show at an NAACP fundraiser, I was the best model there.  When I decided to waste 2 years in college studying media arts instead of something that would provide me with a real income after graduation, it didn’t matter because I was going to be a media sensation someday.  When I got my “big break” on the radio, he was listening!  And even though he never read anything I’ve ever written, sure enough, I’m the best writer today.  I’m sure he is celebrating me being published on Barnesandnoble.com today!

The one thing he didn’t approve of, which again points out the fact that he was very wise, was my ex-husband.  After a while I didn’t approve of him either, but that’s a whole other story.  Anyway, my father was able to see through the veneer that I couldn’t, and was heartbroken when I moved away with the guy.  I didn’t find out until years later that when I left it broke my father’s heart, and he cried and prayed many a night that I would be safe.  That also proves there’s power in prayer, because I made it back from “Daemon” safely.

He wasn’t just a good father to me, but a wonderful grandfather to my 2 daughters.  He had long since retired when they were born, so he had all the time in the world to spoil them absolutely rotten.   I can’t think of anyone who loved me or my daughters as much as my father did.

But time has a way of marching on.  On February 6, 2004, he entered the hospital with pneumonia and kidney failure; and he just steadily declined for the next few months.  He had some really good days and some really bad ones, but at the end my mother signed him out of the hospital so he could be at home with the family.  He had a list of ailments as long as my arm by then.  But that didn’t matter because I loved him just the same; and visited him every day.  To paraphrase a bible verse: “I love him because he first loved me.”  That man loved me and believed in me since day one.  I prayed so much for him but he was 86 and apparently God needed a buddy to eat Girl Scout cookies with.  So he went peacefully in his sleep one morning at the end of October…

Yep, I miss him a lot even to this day.  So regardless of if they are dreams or visits, I’m glad I still get to “see”  Daddy Clank.

Maybe I'm Over-thinking...

Okay, I know that I have weird issues,especially when it comes to movies.  Today I spent a lazy day in my recliner with the heating pad on my back and the remote in my hand.  During my channel surfing, which I don't like to do, I happened upon "Snow White".

Yes, I know this is one of the most beloved Disney movies ever, but I have a couple of issues with it.  The first one was good grief: she's a girl living with 7 men.  Dwarves or not: that's going to get people talking about you.  And it's not like that forest cottage had 8 bedrooms, either.  So even if they gave her a room of her own, you know that at some point they were sneaking a peek.

And that cottage had no glass in the windows: just a cut-out square where weather, animals or anything could have gotten in.  Not even a curtain was in the windows! 

But that wasn't the most unnerving thing about the movie.  Before the old crone shows up with the apple, Snow White is making a birthday pie for Grumpy.  An admirable endeavor, to be sure.  However, not only were all the animals in the forest there in the window, but one of the birds flew in, used its tail to scoop up some flour, and then sprinkled it on the top crust!  As if that wasn't enough: its mate then joined it and they used their dirty bird feet to crimp the crust; AND to scratch slits in the top crust.  Are you kidding me????  That's the birthday pie??  I think the dwarves dodged a bullet by coming home to find her passed out; so they didn't have to eat that!

Brie says that if I have to point out things like that in a children's movie, I shouldn't be watching it.  I think that if they drew a character as scary-looking as the crone, children shouldn't be watching it!  Even at my...um...youngish age, I could barely look at her.  And no one else thought it was too much for kids to see her go over the cliff, and then have the vultures circling around?  We all know what that symbolization meant!

But on the up side: the next movie to come on was "Aladdin".  I can say with certainty that I have no issues with that movie.  Well, maybe just a tiny one.  In all of the ads for the movie before it came out, when Jasmine and Aladdin were on the magic carpet, in the background the song "Magic Carpet Ride" by Steppenwolf was playing and I thought that was awesome.  However, the song did NOT make it into the movie, and when I took my kids to see it that's what I was waiting for!  Sigh...but I guess in the grand scheme of Disney movies, this doesn't count as a miss.

So that's what I've been thinking about today.  While I was in the recliner with the heating pad.  Hopefully next Sunday I'll find myself doing something more exciting than over-thinking the Disney movies!

Why I Will Always Live With Kitty

There are many reasons why I will always live with Kitty, such as she’s my daughter, I love her, and she’s very entertaining, helps with bills and things like that.  However, there’s an even bigger reason why she will always be my roommate…

It had been a very rough week, and on this particular Friday night I just wanted to kick back and relax after dinner.  After all: I deserved it!  Kitty was in her room, and I decided to watch reruns of “Reba” and enjoy some Cheetos and a juice box.  The cats were keeping me company, so it was going to be a good night!

Presently, as it was getting to a really good part of one of my favorite episodes, I heard a tiny little noise.  It wasn’t me crunching on the Cheetos, so it must have been the cats.  I looked to my left: Charlie was sleeping on a chair.  I looked to my right: Luna was sleeping on another chair.  Something told me to look up.  My eyes slowly traveled up the wall and there, perched on the wall like a painting, was a bat!

A couple of things went through my mind at this point:  like it was February and technically bats were supposed to be hibernating; how exactly was the bat clinging to the sheer face of the wall in the first place, and a pest control person had told me that to get rid of a bat you turned on lights in all the rooms except the one with the window or door so the bat would automatically fly out.  This seemed perfectly rational, but seeing the bat on my wall made rationality moot. 

Luckily, I had a broom pretty close to where I was sitting, since earlier I had planned to sweep the floor and that didn’t happen.  As I observed the bat, I realized that it was moving very slowly because it KNEW it was supposed to be hibernating and not hanging out on my living room wall like a wall safe.  I figured that I could knock it down with the broom and then sweep it out the door.  So I very slowly reached for the broom, got my hand around the handle, and prepared to lift it up. However, I had no foreshadowing of the events to come.  Such as the bat sensing my movement, and then spreading its 7-foot pterodactyl wings and taking flight!

When this happened I did what any other person would do under the circumstances:  I screamed like a little girl, dropped the broom and started running around the living room, waving my hands around my head to keep the bat from landing!  This woke up the cats who thought I was playing some kind of new game.  They saw me running, saw the bat flying, and then they started trying to chase the bat.  So now I not only had to keep the pre-historic Jurassic pterodactyl bat from setting up a condo in my hair, but I also had to keep from stepping on the cats.

At some point during this scene from a horror movie, I remembered that Kitty was in her room.  All I had to do was make it there, and she’d do something about the bat because she’s fearless!  She’s a warrior!  I headed in the direction of her room: but just like in the movie Poltergeist, all of a sudden the hall elongated and the door got further away!  Now I was hysterical, running down the hall and finally I managed to get to the door.  I turned the handle: it was locked!  So I pounded on the door, screaming her name. “Kitty!  Kitty!” 

I heard her voice on the other side. “Who is it?”

“It’s your mother!”  I yelled.  “Let me in!”

“What’s going on out there?”  SHE STILL HADN’T UNLOCKED THE DOOR!

“There’s a bat out here!!”

“What do you mean a bat?  It’s winter and they’re hibernating.”

“Open the freakin’ door!”

Finally she opened the door and I fell inside her room.  “Mom, are you sure it’s a bat?”

“Yes I’m sure.  Can you take care of it?”

“Of course I can.  You stay here and rest.”  She put on her leopard print slippers and a safari hat (don’t ask), grabbed her butterfly net and out the bedroom door she goes as I am huddled in a heap on the floor by her bed.  I kept a fearful eye on the little slit under her door in case the predator managed to subdue my daughter and came looking for me again!

I never heard any noise, but she came back a few minutes later.  “All set mom.  You’re safe now.”

“What did you do with it?”

She looked at me like I was simple.  “I took it outside and let it go.”

“You let it go???  So it can come back??”

“It’s not going to come back.”

“Yes it is and then what will I do?”

“Mom, it won’t come back.  Sheesh, what do you want to do: move?”

My eyes lit up and I literally grabbed her and shook her.  “Yes, that’s exactly what we’ll do!  We’ll move!  We don’t even need to pack: let’s just get in the car and go!”

There was a decided look of alarm on her face.  “Calm down!  We are not moving!  I’ll make you a cup of tea so you’ll feel better.”

“Tea, yes, okay.  Thank you Kitty. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

So she made me a cup of her special tea (again, don’t ask) and tucked me into my own bed like the good daughter she is.  However, for the next 2 weeks, I slept with all the lights on and with one eye open, just in case…

And that is why Kitty will always be my roommate!

Might as Well Laugh...

Just when I thought we were done with snowstorms, I woke up this morning to a SNOWSTORM!  I tried my darnedest to clean off my car and get to work; but Mother Nature, who must be on the rag, had other ideas.  I was up and outside at around 6:40 a.m.; and at 7:45 a.m. I was still outside with my car running, shoveling around it, trying to make a path...but when my across the way neighbor got stuck behind my car and it took a plow and 3 people pushing her car to get her going that was the first sign that I wasn't going anywhere.  So I got to waste another vacation day.  Plus my street hadn't been plowed, the traffic reports kept talking about all the accidents on the Northway, and our parking area hadn't been plowed by our plowing service.

Finally, around 10:00 Mark knocked on our door to tell us to move our cars because the plowing service was coming.  So now Brie goes out to clean off her car and I had to re-clean mine.  We decided that once we were able to pull out, we'd drive to a cleared parking lot and wait for our lot to be cleaned.  Of course Brie ended up getting stuck in the lot so a couple of guys had to push her out.  And then Mark offered to get my car out of my parking space; but before I left it turned out that our plow guy got stuck!  So he had to call ANOTHER plow guy to come get him out!  Seriously???

So with all of that going on Brie drove to the company next door to wait for our lot to get cleaned, and I slowly drove to our local store to wait.  Our street hadn't been plowed and neither had a lot of other streets!  So I sat in my car in the parking lot and made a couple of phone calls; then drove back to see if all was clear.  It wasn't so I parked next to Brie in the lot and we talked on the phone as we waited. 

Presently we rolled down our windows: she her driver window and me my passenger window so she could show me something.  We didn't realize that a street plow was going by, and as Brie opened her mouth to speak, the plow went by, spraying snow everywhere including in her mouth.  As you can imagine: I laughed and laughed as she spluttered and spit out the street snow.  It was the funniest thing I had seen all year!  And to make it even better:  the plow did the same thing a second time as she was complaining about the situation!  Boy: the look on her face and seeing her trying to get the residual out of her mouth was almost worth sitting ina parking lot for an hour and a half :o)

But now that it's nighttime, my entire body is sore from shoveling, snowbrushing and sitting in a car most of the morning.  So I'm off to get the heating pad, Ibuprofen and the remote.  That's right: time to watch WWE!

My Third Child

One of the great things about a blog is you get to learn so much about the blogger.  Here’s a little something more you can add to your file on me: I have a 3^rd child.  Trust me: no one was more surprised than I was at this discovery.  The good news is I didn’t have to go through labor.  The bad news is: it’s my mother.

You've read a little about Marie already.  She turned 80 in November and is in pretty good health.  So when I say child, I don’t mean she isn’t in full charge of her mental faculties.  I mean she wants to be taken care of and have all of her needs met.   Where can I sign up for that?

She isn’t snarky or mean about getting you to do things for her, or buy her stuff.  She’s always very innocent about it.  For instance, I took her to the grocery store after church supposedly so she could get something to make for Sunday dinner.  This time it was Hannaford instead of Price Chopper.  We went through the produce section, and they had a display of flowering plants.  “Oh daughter, look at those plants!  Wouldn’t you like to have one?”  Well, I don’t really need a plant Ma.  “But look at this one.  It’s so pretty!  I don’t want one for myself; I’m just trying to help you pick out something nice for your patio.”  Okay then, I like the pink one.  “Oh good, I’ll just put it in the cart for you.  And look at this big white one!  I’d like that, but I’m just a poor widow woman and I don’t have any money.  But I’m so happy that you have something nice for your house.”  Put it in the cart Marie.  “Thank you daughter.  The Lord is really going to bless you one day.”  I’m still waiting…

Sometimes she doesn’t want to get out of the car if I’m going in the store, but she’ll say “buy me something”.  What do you want?  “Oh I’m just kidding; you don’t have to get me anything”.  But I’ve been fooled before: if I don’t come back with something for her she’ll sigh and say, “When your father was alive I had all the money I needed to buy whatever I wanted.  But now that I’m just a poor widow woman, I’ve learned to do without.”  So it saves me a lot of aggravation and guilt if I just go ahead and buy her a treat.  Then when I hand her a bag she says, “You didn’t have to get me anything!  You work so hard for your money; you shouldn’t be spending it on me.”  Seriously Marie?  Who else is going to buy you your Tahiti Cookies from Pepperidge Farm?

When we go to church together, sometimes we like to go out for lunch afterwards.  On this particular Sunday Marie decided that she wanted to take me to lunch and she was going to pay.  Good times!  So first she checked her purse to be sure she had a coupon for Red Lobster, and she did!  However, she didn’t have her wallet in her purse so she had to go in her house to get it so she could use her credit card.  But then we were on our way!

We get to the restaurant and I already know I’m going to have the steak Oscar.  Marie decides on the shrimp jambalaya.  Lunch was absolutely delicious and it was nice to relax and not have to worry about the bill for a change.  The bill is placed on the table and I just pick it up to look at it.  It wasn’t too bad, actually.  My mother says, “I’d better get the coupon out.”  However, she no longer had the coupon because she had changed purses at her house instead of just grabbing her wallet!  “But that’s okay, let me have the bill so I can pay it.”  Then she rummages through her purse, finds her wallet and begins going through it for her credit card.  “Here it is!” she says triumphantly.  Then she looks at it.  “Oh dear: this one expired in August.  I forgot to put the new one in my wallet!”    Then she looks at me in all wide-eyed innocence, so I pull my card from my wallet and place it in the check folder.  No coupon and no credit card: seriously Marie?  “Daughter, the Lord is really going to bless you one day.”  I know He is Marie…

I wish it was just lunch and plants, but there’s so much more to Marie.  When the really hot weather recently returned last summer, she called me to borrow a sleeveless cotton top for an outing she had the next day.  “Daughter you have so many clothes, you won’t mind lending me a top?”  "No Marie, I’ll bring over a couple for you to choose from."  I ended up taking 4 tops to her house for her to choose from.  “I like the blue one, but I’m watching my show now. I’ll call you later and let you know which one I definitely decide on.”  Imagine my surprise when she called me an hour later and told me that she was keeping all 4 of them!  One of them still had the tags on it!  “You just have so many clothes; you won’t even miss these 4 shirts.  Thank you very much Daughter!  You are so good to your poor mother.”  Whether intentional or not I guess!

But I am happy to report that I am passing the torch on to Brie.  Marie was lamenting the fact that her purse was falling apart and shedding.  Woe was her: she so needed a new purse but she just wasn’t sure if she could afford one, what with being a poor widow woman and all.  So I said that Brie had lent me a purse until I bought a new one; so maybe she’d lend the purse to her.  Being a dutiful granddaughter, Brie took over the Gucci bag that I’d been using.  But before she could say, “I’m loaning you my Gucci bag temporarily” Marie took it, rubbed her palm lovingly over it  and said, “What a beautiful bag Brie!  Just wait until I go to Bible study and tell all of my friends that my granddaughter gave me a Gucci bag!”  Brie blanched, but didn’t have the heart to correct her and say she was only loaning her the bag temporarily.  So now my mother is stylin’ and profilin’ with Brie’s authentic, expensive Gucci purse.  And Brie is wondering if there’s any way she can count it as a tax write off…

In the grand scheme of things, I know it could be worse.  And don’t think I’m not wondering if it’s a put-on or not.  But at least I know the Lord is going to really bless me someday...