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Posts Tagged ‘Hula’

Mom had a great time at the wedding reception, weekend before last.

 Seating placed her at the “close relatives of the bride” table. My sister was there and her two sons and their wives and an elderly gentleman, who is not blood relation to us, and who looked extremely feeble.  But, there was life in him, yet.

 Mom absolutely HATES using a walker and refuses to be photographed with it.  The gentleman had a cane.

 As she sat down across from the elderly gentleman, he announced,

 “She’s the sexiest woman here.”

 After thank you’s were said, he stated,

 “You know, I don’t need to use this cane.”

 “Well, I don’t have to use this walker either.” She replied, right before getting up and wheeling her walker to the table Master’s daughter and I were gossiping at, in the general seating area.

 She brought her wine with her and, as she is telling us how she was “hit on” by the elderly man, she was drinking her wine, not sipping.  She was drinking it and stating that she does not like wine.  We are all joking and laughing and Master’s Daughter suddenly notices that grandma’s glass is empty, and grandma again states that she does not like wine; all the while licking the last drops off the glass.

Mom came back to our table after dinner, to talk to a growing crowd of grandchildren, who she had not seen in way too long.  I was up and down taking photographs, but there was at least one Long Island Iced Tea in mom’s evening.  She had never tasted it and wanted to as she had been in New Orleans years ago, with her two sisters.  The sister who was driving had about seven Long Island Iced Teas. 

 At that time, mom had no idea that alcohol was in a Long Island Iced Tea.  She thought her baby sister was drinking regular iced tea. Mom can be very naive, but realized alcohol was involved, finally, when her sister started dancing the hula and insulting waiters.  But, I digress again.

 After the wedding, Master’s daughter rented a motel room for the three of us. It was the very first time I ever shared a room with mom, when she did not take an hour and a half to get ready for bed. She was changed and in bed before I even realized it. 

 Master’s daughter brought some Bailey’s for me and a treat for her and we got our PJs on and sat with our legs under the covers talking, when mom interrupted.

 “What’s that transparent thing over there?”  She asked as she pointed to the plastic bag my cup had been wrapped in that was now sitting wrinkled on the dresser. 

 “A piece of plastic.”  Master’s daughter replied as we burst out giggling.

 This is mom’s third experience with alcohol in eighty-six years.  It’s always good for a giggle.

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When mom took me on her dream trip to Hawaii, a few years back, she wanted lots of Hula watching, lots of luaus and lots of scenery. What we got was a bacterial/viral infection, too much luggage, a banana spitting boy, food from TGIF, and credit card fraud. A good time was had by all.

 

First, we packed way too much stuff. I will plan ahead with coordinating clothing to make sixteen outfits from three separates. I have heard it can be done. Did you know that it takes your clothing, sent USPS, a month longer to get home, than you will?

 

Second, I had a ball planning our vacation, but when I took our desires, like how many days per island, etc, to our travel agent, she had her own ideas. And, when we got home, we found out she had also supplied several other customers with trips on mom’s credit card. She won a two year complimentary stay in the state facility, all expenses paid.

 

Okay, what part of my brain actually thought it would be fun to take the bus from Casper to Denver, rather than being driven in a car? “It will be an adventure.” I so foolishly said. First, the BUS does not do that drive. Instead, you take a van, packed with people and one little banana eating boy.

 

I have mentioned my mom’s proclivities toward, shall I say, obsessive compulsive neatness, on my blog. The first leg of our trip was a van ride from Casper, Wyoming to Glenrock. On the van, an adorable little toddler took quite a liking to this grandmotherly lady.

 

He kneeled on the seat in front of her and proceeded to eat his banana while fondling mom’s cane. It took twelve wet wipes to clean that up. I mean, I would not have been happy but she actually took it all in good sport. He got quite excited when cars would pass us and did one of those buzzing, with tongue out things, spitting banana juice to make a car noise, every single time. Mom got quite a banana bath on that one.

 

After stopping at every three house town between Casper and Denver, we arrived in Denver, and waited and waited for the bus to take us to the airport. It was finally reported that the bus did indeed leave the station this morning but they had no idea where it was. Now, I would have been concerned about losing a million dollar Greyhound bus, but they took it in stride and told us they were paying for a taxi ride, for four weary travelers, to get to the airport. Mom, I and two others piled into the cab for the Wild Ride of Mr. Toad.

 

There was so much luggage that it was smothered our laps and jammed our legs. The upside was that it did serve to keep us in our seats as the cab driver drove 100+ miles per hour, weaving in and out of traffic, to get the girl in the back with us to the airport in time for her flight. Mom didn’t even mind the plane after that cab ride.

 

Next installment: The infection that refused to leave, homeless in San Francisco, TGIF

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