To Mahket, To Mahket

As I was heading down the Pike this morning, I was wishing I had my corduroy cap from 7th grade. The one that made Dougie Horton call me Kato. It was a cool cap, and I'd like to have a uniform for my new chauffeur duties, and a wicked car like the Green Hornet's Black Beauty.

Anywho, I thought the shopping expedition was going to turn out to be a nightmare, especially with the full moon rising tonight. It almost started that way, and I was so glad I had taken a dose of Excedrin before I left home. I was also feeling put upon, because Dad wasn't going to come shopping. He wanted to go to the Senior Center and sing with his glee club in the afternoon. (Mind, I'm driving in early morning rush hour traffic. Even if he came shopping, and Ma took her customary sweet time shopping, he would still make the glee club with time to spare.) I would have to take Ma shopping myself. Now, it's not that I hate my mother, no matter what Freud says. It's just she is difficult, and misery loves company. I also don't like these shopping expedtions because 1). I hate grocery shopping, and 2.) they are a minimum of three hours long. Ma likes to inspect all the meat in the case. We also can't go shopping at the nice supermarket two miles from the house. I can spit from the backyard and hit the parking lot. Nope, we have to travel two towns over, 15 or 20 minutes away to a market that is always busy and crowded.

Traffic was a bit heavy at the toll booth and then again by the old brewery as they were fixing the bridge over the lake so I was about 10 minutes late. Ma promptly pointed this out to me when I walked through the door. She thought my excuse of heavy traffic was flimsy.

She announces she is ready indignant that I have kept her waiting. Dad has on his hat and jacket. "Are you coming too?" I ask. He starts muttering in tongues and gets in the back seat of the car. Guess so, and inside I am happy dancing. Yes!

We head for the store, and you guessed it in the cheap seats, she is yelling at me I'm going the wrong way. I follow my Dad's example and start speaking in tongues.

The store parking lot is crowded and all the handicap spots are filled. I pull up to the firelane to offload the Weebles. Dad is trying to herd soda cans into a plastic bag. The cans have rolled all over the cargo bay of my wagon. I marvel at the tongues Dad can speak.

I help Ma out of the car and onto the sidewalk. A handicap spot opens up across the parking lot. She pats my hand and says, "I'll be fine. You better go grab the spot before it's taken. Your father knows the routine here." That's my ticket to sit in the car and wait. I happy dance the car across the parking lot.

Waiting was fun. I don't mind waiting. I had brought a pad of paper with me so I could finish my BV fanfic story "Never Fade Away". I also had the latest Outlander book with me. I fished my pad of paper and pencil out of my bag and soon was lost in the ending of the story. About an hour and a half went by, and the story was completed. I reached for the book, and happened to look up towards the door to the market, and there's Ma on one of the handicap scooters with a store clerk and shopping cart in tow. Dad came out a short time later pushing another cart.

Butter my buns and call me a biscuit, I couldn't believe they were done in record time! The store clerk helped put the groceries in the cargo bay. I loaded Ma into the front seat of the car, Dad got in the back, and we headed home "the right way."

Dad made a nice lunch of crabmeat salad. I asked Ma if I could take some family pictures of Grandma and Auntie so I could make copies to use for another altered book. She said I could have the pictures. After lunch, I gave Dad a lift to the Senior Center, and I headed home.

Dealing with OPD is always a surprise, and sometimes it's a good one.