When we last left the Weebles, Dad was staring at me, horrified to realize we didn't have all the groceries. The saga continues:
“Go back to the check out while I get Ma in the car.”
Ma had finished writing in her check book and I helped her into the car to wait.
“Where’s your father?”
“He went to get the other carriage.” I didn't want to tell her the groceries were missing because I didn't want her singing the He's Stupid Song on the sidewalk.
She nodded, and we waited, and waited.
I was now illegally parked in a clearly marked no parking fire lane. Even though the tailgate was raised, Ma’s door was open, and the handicap placard was hanging from the rear view mirror, I was still illegally parked. Across the way I could see a handicap spot. I was just about to buckle Ma in when around the corner, came a fire truck. The firefighters glared at me. Great, I’d probably end up with a ticket.
Dad came out all smiles, pushing a carriage overflowing with groceries. We unloaded the bags.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d be eating bread for the next month.”
We drove home and Dad and I unloaded groceries.
“Are you staying for lunch?”
“No.”
Dad gave me the Ma isn’t going to like it grimace.
I had left the house at 9:50 am with The Eldest to drop her off at work. I back tracked and headed to the Weebles arriving there at 10:50am. By the time Ma was done dithering around, and we got to The Mahket, it was 11:30 am. I called Himself from the car at exactly 1:30pm. Dad came out with the first load of groceries at 1:50 pm. Another 15 minutes or so to hunt up the carriage. We left the parking lot and got to the Weebles at 2:30 pm. And 15 minutes later the car was unloaded. I was hoping to be home by 3:30 pm.
Dad went into the kitchen where Ma was putting groceries away.
“The girl wants to go home, Ma.”
“I have to get the cards.”
I sat down silently fuming. It’s always like this. When I want to leave there’s a last minute thing that has to be gotten or showed or given.
Ma had finished writing in her check book and I helped her into the car to wait.
“Where’s your father?”
“He went to get the other carriage.” I didn't want to tell her the groceries were missing because I didn't want her singing the He's Stupid Song on the sidewalk.
She nodded, and we waited, and waited.
I was now illegally parked in a clearly marked no parking fire lane. Even though the tailgate was raised, Ma’s door was open, and the handicap placard was hanging from the rear view mirror, I was still illegally parked. Across the way I could see a handicap spot. I was just about to buckle Ma in when around the corner, came a fire truck. The firefighters glared at me. Great, I’d probably end up with a ticket.
Dad came out all smiles, pushing a carriage overflowing with groceries. We unloaded the bags.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d be eating bread for the next month.”
We drove home and Dad and I unloaded groceries.
“Are you staying for lunch?”
“No.”
Dad gave me the Ma isn’t going to like it grimace.
I had left the house at 9:50 am with The Eldest to drop her off at work. I back tracked and headed to the Weebles arriving there at 10:50am. By the time Ma was done dithering around, and we got to The Mahket, it was 11:30 am. I called Himself from the car at exactly 1:30pm. Dad came out with the first load of groceries at 1:50 pm. Another 15 minutes or so to hunt up the carriage. We left the parking lot and got to the Weebles at 2:30 pm. And 15 minutes later the car was unloaded. I was hoping to be home by 3:30 pm.
Dad went into the kitchen where Ma was putting groceries away.
“The girl wants to go home, Ma.”
“I have to get the cards.”
I sat down silently fuming. It’s always like this. When I want to leave there’s a last minute thing that has to be gotten or showed or given.
Ma went looking for the birthday cards. Then a pen to sign the cards. She handed me checks, cards, envelopes to assemble.
“Don’t cash the checks until Saturday,” she said. Because Auntie Rose got most of Ma’s money, Ma is singing Mafundsalo [my funds are low] along with the ever popular I got a lot of money coming in two weeks.
A squeal of tires, the pleasant smell of burning rubber, and I was on the Pike. Home at 3:45 pm. I could just hear Ma spouting off all the way home. Ma holds the world and Olympic records for emotional terrorism.
“Hmph, she just came for her money. Doesn’t do anything for me.”
I should have left the last load of groceries in the store. Let her eat her 20 loaves of bread for the month.
2 comments:
Hee hee hee...I love your snappy comebacks to your parental units...eat bread for a month! lol
The notes I've taken... Good job! long day! Sainthood is coming...
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