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Posts Tagged ‘walker’

I am mostly upright now and have left the walker in the corner.  When these things strike, it surely gives me more sympathy for mom, who uses a walker all the time.  What a great invention.   However, the pain pills and massive Ibuprophen to bring the swelling down, are not doing nice things to my stomach. 

During my visit with Master’s Daughter, thank goodness pre-hurt the back day, I had a grand old time when invited to shop with grandson and Master’s Daughter for Grandson’s birthday.  He’s a Hollister & Co guy. 

He was once chased down the aisle of the mall, by a Hollister employee.  They caught up with him and told him that the boss had seen him walk by and wanted to offer him a job as he looked like he belonged there.  Thank goodness, I thought that hair just hung in his eyes so he could avoid looking at the world. 

 How to be Cool Over 40 « XUP, with her blog about being cool over 40, reminded me about my day at the mall and looking for cool clothing with Hollister Guy.  He has grown a couple of eight inches since he was offered a job and they no longer carry clothing as long as he wants there.  And, my suggestion to check the tall men’s shop was met with a scathing look, that said, “You are so NOT cool!”

We stopped in for several shirts, all of his shirts say Hollister and I noted to myself “Christmas gift” until I found out that not every Hollister Shirt is equal.  One shade of orange is definitely cooler than the other shade.  The wave on the front is not as cool as just words.  And,one pair of size 32/30 pants (because they do not come any longer) is definitely NOT as good as the identical pair of 32/30 pants that either his mother, or I pulled out.  Once, one whole time out of the afternoon, I got to say, “I knew that.”  I had picked the right one. 

Maybe I am so “Not so much NOT cool” after all.

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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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