One Day * Stories Inside Stories * Fashion Shows * Distractions * Damsel Braids and Inchworms * Ode to Cleaning * Busy Day * Gravity * Animal Sanctuary * Elder Ride * Halloween * Obsession * A Calling to Write
To read A Mother's Diary from the beginning, click on the June 2017 archives in the right hand column and read "Before: Scenes from the Trenches."
OCTOBER 19, 2013: ONE DAY
Kerry and Marisa are walking a ten-mile Nike marathon for breast cancer in San Francisco.
Megan's hiking with her family in Utah's Kolob Canyon.
Pat's working the sound system at Unity Church in Roseville.
GG's attending a tea party in her assisted living facility in Roseville.
I'm playing duplicate bridge in Lincoln.
Four kids.
One mom.
And me.
One day.
OCTOBER 20, 2013: STORIES INSIDE STORIES
I'm taking my Prius in for its 60,000-mile service. The dealership shuttle drops me off at the Galleria Mall while I wait for my car. The shuttle driver tells me to call her when I'm ready to be picked up. Sounds like a plan. The mall doesn't open until 11:00 a.m. and it's 10:30. I find an open entrance next to Pottery Barn. A woman is letting someone inside the store.
"Are you open?"
"No, but we're giving a decorating class and you're welcome to attend."
A sales associate carries a water canister filled with ice, water, and lemon slices out to the desk by the cash register. This is an item I've been thinking about for a while and here it is, right in front of me. And because I'm attending the decorating class, I get a coupon for 10% off anything I buy today. I ask the salesperson to put a water canister and its white porcelain base aside for me while I look around. I love browsing in this store. I enjoy the displays of pillows, candles, artificial flowers, and baskets. As if every home in America looks like this. It's a Norman Rockwell marketing strategy.
I scoot over to Crate and Barrel, which is right next door, to check out their water servers. They have more expensive models but they're not as nice as the one I have on hold at Pottery Barn. This is a shopper's dream. I've found a better buy and I get 10% off. The devil's leading me on. Before going back to pay for the water server, I see white dishes. I'm not looking for white dishes. I don't really need white dishes. But dishes and serving ware are two of my guilty pleasures. These dinner plates are labeled a "Best Buy." They're $5.95 each or eight for $41.95. They're oven, microwave, and dishwasher proof. They'd look perfect on my table at Christmas. To be an equal opportunity consumer, I buy the plates at Crate and Barrel and head back to Pottery Barn to purchase the water canister. This is turning into a successful shopping trip.
The dealership calls to say my car is ready. They've found some suspicious looking bubbling around the water pump seal. It should be watched.
"How much is the water pump replacement?"
"Four hundred fifty-seven dollars."
"No way."
They're not telling me I can't drive my car off the lot without repair. And a water pump isn't nearly as much fun as a water server and white dinner plates. I call the shuttle driver to tell her I'm ready to be picked up. I get a recording that says, "The shuttle will get to you in the order of your call."
I head over to Nordstrom's and sit down on a bench in the entry way between the parking lot and the store. This Nordstrom entrance is where the shuttle driver said she'd pick me up. Half an hour goes by. I call the shuttle service again and get the same recording. I leave another message. I'm in my people-watching mode. A lanky man and a lumpy woman walk through the door.
"I won't wear something like that," she says, "I'm too chunky."
I make up a back story. They're dating. They haven't slept together yet. She's trying to prepare her guy.
Three teenage girls run out the door. One shouts, "There he is. Hey, dude!"
They sprint and scramble into a car. Back Story: The "dude" is the girl's older brother who just got his driver's license. In return for getting to drive the family car, he has to drive his little sister and her friends to the mall.
A Russian family of five charge through the entry way. The mother barks something at the father. Sounds like "$%#!(***." Back story: The husband and wife are fighting over how to spend their money at the mall. She wants to buy a pressure cooker. He wants to buy boots.
A bald man and a long-haired woman enter from the outside door. She races ahead and opens the inside door to the store. "People don't have to open the door for me," she says, "I do it myself."
Back story: The woman asked the man to take out the trash this morning and he said, "Do it yourself." She's pissed.
It's two-and-a-half hours since I called the shuttle service. Something's amiss. I call the service tech. I get his cell phone and a recording. I leave a message. I'm tired of people-watching and I'm losing my sense of humor. I call an office number. A perky girl answers.
"Can I help you?"
"I hope so."
I tell her my back story. She puts me on hold. Several minutes later, she comes on the line again. "We're very sorry. The shuttle driver never got your message. She'll be right there."
The shuttle arrives. The driver's apologetic. "It's my third day on the job. I'm so sorry." She apologizes all the way back to the dealership. Inside, the service technician apologizes.
All's well that ends well. I drive back to the mall to pick up my packages. At home, the water server and the white dishes look even better than they did in the stores. I usually hate shopping, but today felt spontaneous and in-the-zone. Next time I go shopping, I'll probably end up buying a new water pump.
PATRICK'S FACEBOOK POST: I spent a week in my car yesterday. Accepted a ride-share gig to drive a guy to Oregon to bring his daughter to her mother as part of his custody agreement. The ride up, starting at 6 a.m., was narrated all the way by a three year old demanding food, water, hand-holding, song-singing, and frequent bathroom stops.
The way back was narrated by a guy (who had a gleam of danger in his eyes) who could not stop talking and would become emotionally agitated every time we saw a policer officer on the road. He pontificated endlessly on how much he hated cops, government, "anything related to social control."
I still hear him babbling. Didn't get home till after 9 p.m. What horrors I have to subject myself to in order to put a few bucks in my pocket. Beware of babblers who can't tolerate silence and who begin almost every thought with, "You know, a lot of people don't know this, but..."
If nothing else, the creative material is piling up. I feel a book of short stories coming on.
OCTOBER 22, 2013: FASHION SHOWS
It's been 30 years since I've been to a fashion show and, today, I'm at a fashion show put on by community volunteers. Three stores are providing the outfits. The models wear lots of palazzo pants that make everyone look shapeless. Baubles, bangles, and beads remind me of the sixties. Very Bohemian.
Ten women are sitting with me at a round table. Four are in long-term marriages. Four are long-term singles. One, who is 70-something, is newly wed. One, who is 70-something, is newly widowed. The circle of life on display in a circle of women.
The woman next to me says, "I hope the show ends soon."
Me, too. I'd like to see a few ensembles put together from the clothing at Snap it Up. At intermission, I ask the woman in charge if they've ever used outfits from a thrift store.
"We don't do that here," she says.
Another 20 minutes and this fashion show will be over and, then, I'm good for another 30 years.
OCTOBER 23, 2013: DISTRACTIONS
This morning I woke up to the sound of someone walking on my roof, the gutter cleaner guy. Talked to a plumber about the faulty garbage disposal in the house GG rents to Pat, and told him to replace it. Now I'm getting ready for the carpet cleaner. I'm moving floor lamps and small tables into the kitchen.
With all this home maintenance, my focus is on materials. I'm feeling out of touch with my spiritual side. I take deep breaths and think about how to make cleaning and repairing a meditative exercise. Especially, when it's costing me money I'd rather spend on other things.
OCTOBER 24, 2013: DAMSEL BRAIDS AND INCHWORMS
Kerry and Regan are attending a Brownie meeting to pack Thanksgiving baskets for people in need so I'm babysitting Ayla. I pull into Kerry's driveway.
"Boo!"
A pouf of red hair pops out of the shadows.
"Look at the ghosts Mommy hung in our tree. Look at the scary pictures in our window. Want to come in and see our skeleton?"
Inside, Ayla's house isn't as scary as outside. Inside, we're reading books — a Bad Kitty book and a book about a chameleon. While we read, we wear damsel crowns and braids made of corn-yellow yarn and entwined with artificial flowers.
Ayla says, "We must wear them together, Mim."
She looks much prettier in her damsel braid than I do. "It will puff your hair up, Mim, but your hair is shorter than mine so it won't puff it up too much."
We're in the backyard, in our damsel braids, looking for bugs. Right away Ayla spies a tiny inchworm. "I love bugs, Mim. When I grow up, I'm going to work with bugs."
Ayla picks up the inchworm and cradles it in her palm. "This is Bumpy. He's the same worm I found last week."
"The same one?"
"Yes, but this is the real Bumpy."
We pick leaves and grass for Bumpy and throw a couple of pieces of bark into his plastic bowl. Ayla notices a pink flower on a small bush. It looks like a miniature camellia. "Isn't it beautiful, Mim?"
Ayla drops Bumpy on the flower. He's taking a nap.
Still wearing our damsel braids, we're back in the house and using Kerry's iPad. Ayla knows the password. She finds a screen of Halloween games. She's facile. Playing games on iPads is easy — like reading books and finding bugs.
"Show me how to play the games, Ayla."
"It's simple, Mim. Watch me."
I am watching you, Ayla. Watching you is pure joy.
