My mother’s neighbor of six years or so has become a friend to both my mother and I. this week, her neighbor is off in San Deigo with her police commissioner boyfriend. They’re an adorable and very nice couple.
Recently, the boyfriend showed up at the house with a brand new Harley Davison motorcycle. We were offered rides.
My mother and I both laughed until we cried.
Anyway, the neighbor lady brought the Harley-riding boyfriend a jacket but it needed to be returned for a larger size. The neighbor lady is out of town and asked my mother to go to the local Harley and exchange it.
She walked into the store today and said, thinking she was being funny, “I’m here for a hog.”
They thought my mother, the Diva, was asking for a hug and not a hog.
That’s how out of place she was.
In an effort to not become a hoarder, I have been challenging myself to throw out at least one garbage bag of old stuff I no longer use. Last night – two bags of old shoes that I once loved. But there are always more shoes to love – I came to the realization
that I would never wear any of the old, beaten up and worn down ones.
Who knows what next week has in store. I was thinking maybe the linen closet. I know – hold me back.
Last weekend, my cousin Pink got married. She and her new husband have been together forever and it was about time. All the family of characters were in town for the event. So many great moments reconnecting with Mr. Drysdale, who came up from Charolette. My Aunt Lyn was in from Oregon. My mother was in rare form (of course she was). I think the most memorable moment was when Aunt Lyn was enjoying her wedding cake cassata cake (which she claimed she never had before) and someone at the table mentioned there was also a dessert bar. Her eyes got big, she dropped her folk and smiled.
It hasn’t really rained much this summer. My lawn is brown. And it has been so hot – over 90 Degrees for weeks.
Sunday, after the wedding, we met at my mother’s house as the bride and groom went through their gifts. My friend Gil, who was a groomsman in the wedding, asked me to marry him. After the bride and groom counted out all the cash they made from the wedding. ‘Think of the trip we could go on.’
Once again, it has taken me more than a month to get this post finished.
My mother put her house up for sale this summer. And as of this weekend, she has an offer. Not sure where she will end up. I told her she could stay with me. Said she’d spent too much money buying guns for my murder so there’s that.
You guys – the shit is getting real here in the 216 area code. Keep the police and public safety crews in your thoughts in the coming few weeks.
In fun news, here’s one of the many billboards that have popped up over town.
Over the weekend, I found myself in a parade.
I was meeting my cousin, who was on a whirlwind trip home before she moves to Boise in a few weeks. We had a meeting place for breakfast and as I was driving there, I clearly remember seeing a girl with fairy wings on her back. And a man walking down the street, holding her hand, dressed as Uncle Sam.
In the next block, there were people sitting in lawn chairs along the curb. It was such an odd thing for 9 am in the morning. And then, there were all sorts of flashing lights and police cars. I slowed but the police waved me through. I thought about turning down a side street, just trying to get to the plaza I was meeting my cousin in, but with the wave of the policeman’s hand, I continued onward down the main street. There were more and more people. They were serious about this thing; so many brought their own folding lawn chairs.
So many dressed in red, white and blue…
… oh … oh shit.
I realized it was the 4th of July – the one holiday that every town in America celebrates with a parade. I was now accidentally in one of those parades. I heard a high school marching band warming up somewhere in the distance. I lowered my sunglasses from the top of my head and hoped that the out-of-tune music was a sign that the parade hadn’t officially started. Still, the small children on the roadside waved. Despite being awesome and cool in my Nissan Rogue, I am hardly parade material.
But, you’ve met me. Of course I am accidentally in a parade.
I was waved down the road by another set of policemen, clearing me through another intersection. I couldn’t turn off the main road, errr, parade route, if I wanted to. Ahead, I finally spotted the marching band, still on the curb. Their music was still out-of-tune.
I told myself I was one of the last cars to get through. Before the parade began.
And then, just ahead of me, I realized an old-fashion firetruck was going real slow on the road, with older men throwing out what looked like candy. On the parade route. Ahead of me. A trolley was in front of the firetruck, also throwing out some sort of candy to the parade viewers. I looked around the inside of my car and for a moment, wondering if anyone wanted crumpled up napkins or old receipts from the passenger side floorboard. Probably not, I assumed and knowing my luck, I would be ticketed for littering. But not for impersonating a parade vehicle.
AlI could do, besides wonder if a normal person might not have taken so long to realize what was happening, was wave back at the people on the curb until i was past all this.
Nothing warms the heart like waking up to a text that says “I love you.”
Except when it’s from a number you don’t recognize.
Mom: What a scam The Daytime Jeopardy is just reruns of the evening show
Me: you should probably write Alex. and tell him he’s a big faker.
Mom: Maybe even my senator as I have his phone number