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Posts Tagged ‘motel’

I did forget a story mom told Master’s daughter and myself, before she fell asleep in the motel. 

 

She and dad were visiting a relative many, many years ago and dad was very upset because their shaggy dog was drinking from the toilet

 

Picturing the state of the toilet, I could see this might seem gross to him. Our dog’s dish was washed regularly.  And, dogs like to lick their owners. So, I can see where that might gross out my obsessive parents.

 

But, mom said that was not it.  The truth, she told us, was:

 

“He was afraid to get dog hair on his butt.”

 

 

I shall leave you there with all sorts of visions in your head, as Master’s daughter and I dissolved into laughter at the possibilities.

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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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AM: Power Cord hunt:

 

Best Buy had a universal power cord for mom, (Gosh, wouldn’t that be great.), for her laptop actually. It cost $100.00. She said to “forget it.”

I checked WalMart and they had the exact same one for under $70.

 

Universal power cords never fit just quite right but it is a stop gap to get you through until your new power cord arrives, so she bought it. Plus it is cheaper than all those “AA” batteries, she thought she would have to use (see yesterday’s post.)

 

Breakfast was up next. Before we left the motel, I asked the girl if she knew where a little mom and pop diner was. She told me that there were a lot in the area where WalMart and Best Buy was, “There’s Perkins, and ….” Obviously, she had no idea what a “Mom and Pop diner” is.

 

We did find one, all on our own, and on route 10. Its name is Park Ridge Café and you walk in the door and are greeted as if you are a local and it’s your third year of going in. The food is cooked just right and they offer fruit instead of fried potatoes with your breakfast. Or, you can go with the fried potatoes, if you are so inclined.

 

The wedding is for another day’s Blog.

 

Returning to the motel, from the wedding reception last night, I did a good job of getting lost. I don’t get lost when I am alone, because I can always retrace my path and find the correct turn, or get directions. I have seen some wonderful things by taking the wrong road, so I rarely get upset about it, but having mom with, makes it less of an adventure and more of a “Where is the blinking motel?”

 

The motel is on Highway 51. There is some road construction that causes confusions and highway 10 is involved. But, it seems that you cross highway 51 repeatedly in this city.

 

I have mentioned that asking for directions in Hawaii is always answered by “It is two blocks that way.” Mind you, it may be on another island, but it is always “two blocks away.” Well, in Wisconsin, everything is just three left turns away (gee, doesn’t that just bring you right back to where you are?)

 

So, when I got misplaced last night, and mom is getting more and more worried sitting next to me, I stopped to ask for directions and was told to go to the stop sign-turn left, go to the four way-turn left and go to the stop light and turn left.

 

After several false starts, my idea of a left turn, being a near 45 degree turn; her idea of a left turn being a total u-turn. We did find 51 and our hotel. Mom relaxed and all was well with the world.

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I found my Hawaii trip book. While we were on the trip, I kept a journal of the interesting things that happened. When we got home, I had some spare time and made a Hawaii trip book. I was teaching art to homeschoolers; with the Casper Area Christian Home Educators and we were going to create some books, so my excuse was education.

 

But, I now digress, as if I don’t all the time, to insert some illustrations, make corrections and add a few forgotten items. 

 

  

 

The illustration(and photo)above, on the left, is Robert. I think it is too small to see, but he’s waving out of the pinkish van. Robert was a cute little bowlegged two year old (not four), who had fallen in love with my mother. Mostly, all he could say was “Wa at?” (This meant “What’s that?”) He was a curious little boy with bananas and pop tarts and a buzzing raspberry noise, that sprayed juice on everything, every time a car passed by.

 

When the van arrived in Douglas, Wyoming, we were transferred to a small bus and eventually large bus. In Denver, we purchased tickets for yet another bus to take us to the airport and were told it would leave in ten minutes. Four requests, and an hour and a half later, I again inquired as to when it was actually coming. We were told that the bus had left the bus barn and not been heard nor seen since. They did not seem too concerned over losing a bus. I guess it happens frequently.

 

They did pay for mom, myself and a German law student, to cram into the back of a cab, with our luggage. I was afraid to ask what the cab driver had in the trunk that took up all the room, necessitating us to hold our luggage.

 

The illustration above (picture on right) makes us seem like we are merrily singing on our way, but we were NOT. Screaming, yes. Singing, no. Trust me on this. We were white knuckled as we pray for our lives in this 90mph wild ride to the airport.

 

Mom and I then called the motel to get our ride from the airport. When we arrived at the motel, we were met with stunned silence upon learning that we had to be at the airport at 3:30 am. Bless his heart, the poor driver who took us, from airport to motel, offered to take us back in the wee hours of the morning.

 

Mom’s luggage was flagged to be checked at the airport in Denver and she was hauled off to a private room to watch her undies being pawed. We were never sure what contraband she carried, but we think a little odd folding flashlight may have been deemed dangerous. I insisted all my rolls of film be checked by hand and they were NOT happy with that either. This was before 9/11 and I found it hilarious, later in the trip, when I set off one of the airport security machines in Hawaii. They stopped me from emptying my pockets, and turned their machine off before waving me through, unchecked, stating it was probably just my hair clip.

 

 

The plane was worse than riding the bus or taxi. I’m not a big fan of flying. It is crowded, claustrophobic and boring.  I still had bacterial bronchitis and was on some heavy duty medicine, so every time the plane banked, rose, dropped or moved, I had intense vertigo. That lasted for one hour, 23 minutes and 16 seconds, until we landed in Salt Lake City. The next plane was larger and either, I adjusted, or it was a smoother ride, because the vertigo stopped and two hours later we landed at LAX.

 

Mom being a small town girl and not having worked in Chicago for many years as I did, never learned “street” rules and big city eye avoidment. So, a “friendly” man followed us around the airport in the early morning hours until we caught our plane for Hawaii. She was a bit nervous about this. My response was, “I told you not to look him in the eye.” I’m not at my best when I have to go through two 6am’s in one morning.

 

We had our first Hawaii touchdown in Maui. It was a short lay over so a group of us stood out on the lanai and breathed in our first breath of tropical air. It is heaven on earth. I was ready to put down roots and still dream about it. I wanted to call home and tell them to sell everything, ‘cause I was staying.

 

The air smelled with a delicate scent of flowers and the temperature was perfect. It is like being enveloped in a perfect cloud; not too hot, nor too cold, not too dry, nor too wet.

 

Tomorrow: The little plane that couldn’t, Our lower floor reserved room on the 16th floor, and being kidnapped by Pleasant Hawaiian with one pat of butter and no water refills.

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