Good Morning! Guess What!

I miss my Aunt Wanda a lot.  We haven't lived in the same town in years.  Sigh.  There are sometimes that I miss her even more than others.  Yesterday was one of those times.

Ring-Ring!  I see my mom's number on Caller ID.  It's actually numbers spelled out ("twentyonetwentyone...") because she lives in a senior independent living complex.  Those numbers, interestingly enough, don't have anything to do with her actual phone number or her apartment number.  It's quite mysterious.

"Hey!" I chirp.

"It's your mother!" she informs and continues on without taking a breath, "I had a funny dream last night..."

Wanda where are you!?  You are the one Mom called every morning for 10 some-odd years after you both had retired. She would wake up.  Pad to the kitchen in her little worn pink floral slippers.  Turn on the coffee pot.  Head back to her room to jump back under the covers to pray for her children.  Return to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.  Then, dial your number for a quick one-hour chat.  You listened intently to all of her bizarre dreams.  You said things like "Well!" and "Is that right!?" when she paused long enough to sip her coffee.  You saved me HOURS of running around in my kitchen with a corded phone tucked under my chin listening impatiently as she spilled all of her dreams while I scrambled eggs with one hand and folded clothes with the other.

"Last night, I dreamed that I had a daughter - not you, I didn't know her at all, but it wasn't you - who was about to get married.  I remembered that we sold my sewing machine at my estate sale when I moved to Lubbock.  I was so sad because I wanted to make some dresses for all of my new grand-babies."

"That was sad!" I said thinking of Aunt Wanda wondering if she was on her 3rd cup of coffee by now.

My mother has a very active dream life.  She can't remember what she ate for breakfast, but she can remember all of her dreams.

"I dreamed that I was teaching school, and one of the boys brought his pet monkey to school.  I said, 'You can't keep a monkey at school!' and he said, 'Mr. Waldrop [mom's principal for years] said it was OK!'  So I marched down to Mr. Waldrop's office and told him that it was me or the monkey!  I told him that if he let one boy bring a monkey to school, all the boys would want to bring monkeys to school!"

"I dreamed that I was in a play, and I couldn't remember my lines.  So, the teacher had a girl walk right behind me the whole time speaking the lines while I mouthed them."

"I dreamed that I was singing in a mall and a man came up to me and said, 'You should be a recording star!  You have a beautiful voice!  It's every bit as good as Deanna Durbin's!'"

"I dreamed that we were all going to a big dance and we all had dates, but I didn't have a new dress to wear.  So, my friend let me borrow one.  It was pink and had lace on it."

I could go on and on and on.

She went through a time when she called me every few days to tell me what song she woke up singing.

Ring-Ring!

"Good morning, Mom!"

"Guess what I woke up singing this morning?!" she would ask. 

"What did you wake up singing?" I would yawn.

"Shall we gather at the riiiiiiiiv-er, where bright angel feet ha-ave trod?" she'd sing as sincerely as if her former choir director at First Methodist Waco was standing before her in the kitchen.

A few days later...Ring-Ring!

"Hello?"

A sweet, shaky, soprano voice softly would begin singing, "I come to the gar-den a-loooooooooone, where the dew is still on the ro-o-ses!  And the voice I hear...falling on my eaaaaars, the Son of God dis-clo-o-ses!"

[That one always gets me.]

"Do you wake up singing a song?" she would ask.

"Nope.  I just wake up with bad breath," I would yawn.

"Don't you think it's NEAT that I do?!" she would exclaim.

"Kinda neat.  Kinda creepy.  Are you feelin' OK, Mom?"

"I feel great!  I just think that it's NEAT that I wake up singing!  That's one of my favorite songs!  Have it sung at my 'celebration!'"  ["Celebration" = her code word for "funeral"]

"Hmm.  Let...me...find...a...pencil so I can write that down.  Found one!  In...thuh...garden...got it!" I would say with no pencil in sight.

Now that the Meems is 85, I love to hear her dreams.  The best part is that she laughs really hard when she tells them.  I love to hear about her morning songs.  The best part is that she sings them.  Some day I'm going to miss her dreams and songs.

Annnnnd, He WALKS with ME!

 and He TALKS with ME!

And tellllllls me I am His OOOOOWN!

And the joy we SHAAAAAARE as we TAAAAAAR-RY there

None other has ever knoooooooown!

Aaaaaaaaaaaah-mennnnnnnnnnn.

twentyonetwentyone

The Warm Pants Expedition

I woke up this morning thinking of my sister, Kathy.  Not woe-is-me thoughts.  I was thinking about the Warm Pants Expedition that Mom and I embarked upon last week.  Or the week before.  My memory...ugh.

Mom had called me about a week before the Expedition to announce that she needed to go shopping for "warm pants."  It was a balmy 98 degrees here in the Hub City with no cool breezes in sight.  Oh, wait...I remember!  She wanted to go on a Warm Pants Expedition on Labor Day Weekend when she expected all of the warm pants to be on sale.  I was kind of thinking that all of the cool shorts would be on sale.  She specifically remembered that one year she was able to find great deals on warm pants at a huge Labor Day sale.  She has an uncanny memory for where and when she purchased each item in her wardrobe - dresses, tops, pants, shoes, bracelets, earrings, necklaces, panty hose - as well as how much they would have cost if she hadn't gotten them on sale for ________ (names the exact price).

We go.  On Labor Day.  Upon entering Talbots, she informed a sales associate (a 20-something GUY) that she needed warm pants.  I must explain this sudden, dire need.  My mother has a closet FULL of clothes.  Her size 6 collection was left behind when we moved her from Waco because "unless I get real sick I won't ever be that small again."  The size 8's made the trip because she might get a little sick and need them.  She had slowly gathered some 10's as she faced the reality that her "good health" was causing her waistline to expand.  After a year of good livin' at Raider Ranch with its "free" hor dourves during the Friday night cocktail hour and most excellent Sock-it-to-Me cake, she was in need of size 12 warm pants.

"What kind of warm pants are you looking for?  Casual?  Dressy?  Wool?  Corduroy?" Sales Dude enthusiastically asked.  I smiled like the Cheshire cat.  He had no idea about the bottle of worms that just walked into his sales path.

"Can you show me what you have in a size 10?" Mom asked smiling.

Off he went to gather up pants with me trailing behind telling him to make that size 12's.  After trying on approximately 10 pairs of warm pants in size 12 and a couple in size 14, Mom stood in a pile of discards in her dressing room asking about the color choices in the size 12 corduroy jeans that had won the elimination challenge.  She settled on 2 pairs:  black and chocolate.  

"What about cute tops on sale?" she asked.

"What do you mean 'cute tops'?" I questioned her question.

"Oh, something that would look cute with these warm pants..." she sighed.

Exchanging half-hearted smiles, Sales Dude and I went foraging for warm tops to match the warm pants.  At one point, I passed him in the dressing room area as he was wagging an eggplant long-sleeved "wrinkle resistant" blouse to Mom's room.  "She saw this blouse hanging on another lady's dressing room door and thought she'd like to try it on," he explained.  It seemed that the Meems had fully reeled Sales Dude in.

-passage of time-

We leave the store with 2 pairs of warm pants, 2 cute summer weight sweaters, and a beige shell.  Sure enough, everything in the store was 25% off for Labor Day.  Feeling like I had just fed the 5000, I helped Mom up into the Suburban.

Wait for it...wait for it...wait for it...

"Do we have time to go to Chico's?"

------------

The phone rang about 15 minutes after we walked in the door from our trip to New Orleans.

"Did you have a good time?" asked a sweet, familiar voice.

I told her about some of the great food we ate and about how the amazing smell of the raw brown sugar floated from the sugar mill we passed on our river boat excursion.

After she had asked the appropriate amount of questions to show interest in our trip she asked, "When can we go to the alterations place to get my warm pants hemmed?!"

-------------

This morning I woke up thinking of Kathy. 

I raised my eyes to the ceiling and said, "OK, Geekus.  Your turn!"  

Cupcakes, Mimi, & Mail Art

I've been preoccupied with life lately.  There WILL be a garage sale in my very own garage sometime in the next...uh...60 days.  The problem is that I'm overly organized when it comes to displaying my garage sale "merch."  I have friends who can throw together a garage sale at the drop of a hat.  And, walk away with $578.  I usually net around $200 after working for days on end.

I took time to bake cupcakes last week for a friend who had surgery.  They turned out to be my all time favorites.  I used a run of the mill pound cake with a lemon glaze recipe.  I kept adding fresh lemon juice until it was mm-mm good.  Before applying the glaze, I laid a mint leaf (or a piece of one) on the top of each cupcake.  The first round of glaze didn't quite hold down the mint leaves, so I did a second coat.  My mouth is watering just thinking about them.

Lemon Pound Cake with Lemon Glaze and Fresh Mint

I took Mom to get a mani-pedi on Monday.  That's always interesting.  She's becoming like Goldilocks in her advanced years.  "That water is TOO HOT!"  "That HURTS my finger!"  "Show that color to my daughter.  She knows what color I like!"  After the 2 hour "spa venture," I loaded Mom up and prepared to drive her back across Milwaukee Avenue to Raider Ranch.  

"Do you know of a place where I can get breakfast, and you can get lunch?" she began.

"Here we go..." I thought.  "Not real close," I replied.

"What about that place we went after my doctor's appointment?" she continued.

"It's way across town from where we are right now," I said looking at Raider Ranch which was just across the street.

"Hmmm," she murmured.

"Hmmm" is her codeword which means "this ain't over."

"I had a little bowl of cereal early this morning [9:00...], but now, I'm hungry for bacon and eggs!"

"Hmmm," I murmured.

"Hmmm" is my codeword for "you'll live without bacon and eggs."  It was 11:30.

Suddenly, I spied Cracker Barrel which was also across the street.  Taking a deep breath and shoving my lengthy "to do" list out of my mind, I said, "Cracker Barrel!  They have breakfast all day long!"

"Sounds great!" she squealed.  

And, off we went to Cracker Barrel.  She had bacon, eggs, grits, toast, and gravy.  I had beans 'n' greens.

Oh, I also sent some mail art earlier this week.  This is the back of the letter I sent to my dear brother-in-law, David.  I made the envelope by tracing an opened up envelope onto my favorite brown paper.  Mail art is becoming an obsession.

That's all the news from "Lake Wobegon"...