Monday, March 30, 2009

Take A Walk in My Shoes

At the last doctor's visit, Ma was whining that her "legs wouldn't go." They would go if she didn't spend hours on end sitting in a chair taking care of her "business." They would go if she got up and moved around a little bit.

The doctor told her she should do a little walking outside. He told Dad, Ma couldn't walk alone and he was to take her for a little walk outside when the weather was better.

Dad called the other day.

"I was so proud of your mother."


"We went for a walk."

"That's great! Yesterday, was a nice day for a walk. You walked down to the end of the street and back?"

"Yes! And then she turned the corner with me and we walked to the supermarket. Of course, when we got near the store she had to sit down a while and rest...."

"Please tell me you're kidding? You didn't walk all the way over there."

"Yes, we went and bought $60 worth of groceries."

Help me, Lord.

"Are you out of your #%#$%# mind?"

"She insisted I take her! She said the doctor said she had to go out for a walk"

"Hello? Take her down to the end of the street and back, but not for a two mile hike!"

"Don't yell at me! She did alright," he said defending himself.

"Alright? No sidewalks pushing her walker over rough terrain? You call that alright?" I could feel the familiar pain throbbing behind my left eye and I reached for the aspirin bottle.

"We made it."

"I can't believe you were so stupid to take her. What would you have done if she had fallen? You can't pick her up. Don't ever take her that far again. Up and down the street, but don't turn the corner!"

"We got a ride home."

I popped another couple of aspirin.

"Sweet Jesus, please tell me you knew the person who drove you home."

"Oh yes. She's a member of the choir."

I ended the coversation with a reminder not to take her to the supermarket again.

When I was a kid and did something (Ma thought was) stupid, Ma would curse me.

"Just you wait! Just you wait!"

She didn't always finish the curse as she waved forked fingers at me. It was implied.

"Just you wait until you have kids just like you!"

At least, that's what I thought was implied. Now, I'm not so sure.

By the time Himself came home, I was able to find the funny in the situation. With OPD you have to laugh or go insane.

"When I was a kid, I had a Donald Duck with a wheelbarrow. Put him on an incline, give him a push and he'd waddle down the ramp. I bet that's just how Ma looked pushing her walker along the edge of the highway."

Himself laughed.

"You know what?"


"If they can walk the two miles to the supermarket, they can walk the rest of the way to the Mahket!"

I swallowed two more aspirin.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Your Weeble is Showing

Dad called the other day.

"How much do you pay for Medicaid for the year?"

"Um, I don't pay for Medicaid."

"You don't?"
I could hear the Weeblnomics wheels turning to find out how I didn't have to pay for the insurance and how he could get on the gravy train.

"I'm only 53. I don't qualify for Medicaid. Don't rush me," I laughed.

There was a pause.

"What about Himself?"

"Dad, he's a year younger than I am."

After we hung up, I wasn't sure whether to be amused or insulted by Dad's question. Am I so mature Dad thinks of me as a contemporary? Or is my weeble showing? Guess it's time to turn my brown hair blue.

Friday, March 20, 2009


Another week and no time to take the Weebles to the Mahket. What a shame. I did try to talk Ma into the delivery service.

For new customers, for 60 days, delivery is free! After that, the delivery charge is $6.95 if the order is over $100 or $9.95 if the delivery is under $100. If you are willing to take delivery after the premo time, a buck or two is knocked off the delivery fee. So the delivery fee could end up being $4.95. Five bucks! Less than what it costs me in gas and tolls! And they don't even have to tip the driver if they don't want to.

Ma frowned when I explained this all to her. Frowned mostly because shopping is her only outing, and frowned because she does not want to pay a delivery fee.

"I have a better idea," she said to me. "I can call the order in by phone and have Himself pick up the order on his way home from work. I'll give him the five dollars." She nodded in satisfaction.

Now, I don't begrudge Himself the five bucks, but what about me? I've been hauling Weeble butts to and from the Mahket for two and a half years! Where's my five bucks?