Posts Tagged ‘stories’

XUP you are my soul and my inspiration.   There, that is your song fix for the day.

She is hysterical though.  She is doing posts on people of age groups.  I have just begun to read them.  I have to ration myself daily on my blog reading or I would never get anything else done; like my own blog, my Advanced Middle Grade Novel that is getting near enough to completion, it is exciting to me again.  In other words, I’m over the hump, oh, there is also dishes, the grocery list and, hummm, perhaps I should get dressed this morning.

Not that I am sitting in my altogether.  THAT would scar people.  Although, I have lost five pounds now (notice how slickly I threw that in???)

Anyway, Xup posted The 6 Most Annoying Things About Old People « XUP.  And, apparently, Xup was behind mom and I the last time we shopped.  I have to wonder, like every time I take her shopping actually (and I am talking about mom here and not XUP; no way am I driving to Canada to take XUP shopping.  I don’t even have a passport). 

So, I take mom shopping.  I have gotten smart enough now, to NOT do my own shopping at the same time.  I usually have a few items to get that are non-food, and then I go check on mom, who is by now, in the vegetable department, even though she started tooling down the aisle in her electric buggy, for the cooler.

“What do you need Mom?  Can I help you?”  I say, looking down in her cart to see eggs.

“I need milk.  It has to be lactaid–and don’t get that 1% stuff, I want whole milk.” 

“Okay, anything else?”

At which point she tears off the top section of her list, which is food that is all in that cooler section and hands it to me, apologizing for her handwriting, and then, as I walk away she adds, “I need vitamins too.”  Which would be fine if we were in Kroger’s but we are in WalMart and the vitamins are on the other side of the store.  ALLL the way on the other side of the store.

I come back with that lot of food and she is now almost back to the cooler section and tells me she now needs mushrooms; which is where we started.

We finally get to the checkout desk and she is tying her bags shut so that we can “tell them apart.”  Never mind that she did this when she lived with us, in the same house.  Never mind that I have a Chrysler Voyager and I put my stuff in the back and her stuff in the seat area behind the front seats. 

She is also telling the girl not to pack so much in a bag because they will be too heavy for her to carry.  Never mind that she hasn’t taken her own groceries up to her apartment more than twice in three years; at least that I have taken her to the store.  I actually empty her bags out onto the counter for her.  But, I appreciate them not being too heavy.

If she has only bought a small item at the store, yes  XUP, she must pick through her coin purse for exact change, all the while apologizing to the clerk for her hand writing even though she isn’t writing anything.  She does this too for her debit card. 

And, just why is it that she enters a door and stops; right there, in the door.  Or waits for the elevator by standing in front of it?  Or waiting for me to open a door by standing in front of it?  The story that sticks out in my mind is coming out of the post office with two large boxes in hand and it is pouring rain and the car door is locked and she sits there watching me trying not to drop the boxes as I fumble for my keys, in the rain, with two boxes in hand and never thinks to pop the locks with the button.  But, dad always did that stuff.  Some day she may end up trapped in a car because she has no idea how to unlock the door.

But, I love her stories, even when I hear them three times a day.  Like you, I know I am looking at my future.

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