M is for Mammogram Monday.
M is for Multi-tasking Mommies.
M is for Manners at Mussorgsky Masterpiece.
M is for Moving and grooving Mr. Howard.
My cape for Monday was pale gold. It had velcro on the front. I didn't get to wear it much for my photo shoot. It is good to cross one unpleasant task from the mental nag list. One less thing for my GYN doctor to scold about at my annual in a few weeks. I made an appointment for my bone density scan, too.
Years ago a buddy made miniature capes for our supermom endeavors. We tied them around the headrest of our car's drivers seats, with the big capital S hanging in the backseat to remind the kids we were endlessly transporting. It took a lot of multi-tasking energy to be a supermom, but it was a blast.
Interesting hubbub in the bleachers at the opera Sunday. I thought there might be fisticuffs...
A couple in front and slightly left of us got their cell phones out and were texting. The woman kept moving around getting stuff out of her purse, and blocking the view of the stage. I could see the little lights when they opened their phones, and thought they were way too old to get emergency messages from a babysitter. Suddenly a man behind us reached his arm down past our necks to shake his finger at the phone couple and bark at them to put their phones away. Scared the wits out of us, and my friend turned around to say, "I beg your pardon?" She is polite. I wanted to shake my finger back at him and remind him this was not NASCAR. I kept myself in check, but he was worse than the texters.
At intermission the barking man apologized. Then he got the usher involved, and the supervisor of the ushers. We ended up moving to different seats with a partially blocked view.
On Monday Dad is the best he's been in many months. He's up in his wheelchair, wearing a handsome striped shirt and brown pants. He is clean, shaved, and his hair is parted on the correct side. He is ready to move, to get out of his boring room, and to crawl the halls. The hospice nurse, chaplain, and bath aide have all visited today, but instead of draining his energy, the visits have recharged Dad. His ankles aren't much bigger around than paper towel tubes, but Dad wants to go, go, go.
Too bad it is such a windy day. I would take Dad outside for fresh air, but he's skinny enough to blow away. Instead we roam the corridors, sip coffee in the dining room, check on the bird cage and big aquarium, and collect his mail from the front desk. This is the first time Dad has even been to the lobby since he arrived at the facility at New Years.
Rose is Rose isn't a comic favorite, but she pinned me with the conversation avoidance of the Albertsons self-check lane. Several of us were avoiding interaction, scanning our groceries, when I started laughing (yes, out loud).
"I'm sorry," I told the woman behind me, "but I just bought a twenty-seven dollar avocado."
"It better taste good," she said, and got in a different line. I went to find the self-check wrangler to delete the purchase. Apparently I pushed 21 for the quantity instead of 1. And here I am fretting about Dad's inability to use his telephone buttons!
This reminds me of the time my 219 pale gold elongated toilet seats were back-ordered at Sears, but that is another story.
T is for Too busy Tuesday.
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder