I had no intention of
getting on the road day before a holiday but, when I realized this morning that
I could go no further on the needlepoint project, because I was missing a color,
I decided I had no choice but to head out to the craft store into what I
expected to be crowds and traffic jams.
I made it as far as
the market yesterday, wearing shorts, and the world did not end but chickened
out of going out-of-the-area in shorts and changed into leggings before heading to the craft store.
The roads were
surprisingly clear, and the only crowd or jam I observed was at the Costco gas
pump, which I decided I wasn’t in desperate need of gas and passed on.
Arriving back at the
complex, I detoured through the Community Room to check the sign-up sheet for
tomorrow’s 4th of July BBQ. With only seven residents signing up, I
didn’t pick up a lot of interest but that doesn’t mean 30 moochers won’t show up and partake
of the hot dogs provided by Activity Director and the side dishes provided by
the seven who signed up to bring a dish.
We’ll see how it goes
tomorrow.
Heading back to my unit,
I ran into the grandmother that brought her granddaughter to last week’s Pizza
Tuesday and said, “It’s probably hard to tell because she’s blond, that her dad
is Black” and I’d said, “Not hard at all. I could tell she was mixed the minute
she walked through the door”.
Grandmother was
sitting in the lobby, I wasn’t quite sure if she was angry over my being a little too honest, but
took a chance and greeted her with a smile.
She greeted me back
and made a comment about the weather.
I said something
about expecting a high bill because I’ve been having to turn the A/C on at 7:00.
As we were ending the
conversation about the weather, and I began to move on she blurted out, “How old are you?”
What a question. People around here don't ask questions like that but, after a moment of shock, I replied “Seventy-four”.
“Oh? Really? I
thought you were around 69”.
“Touché!" I
thought to myself as I smiled because, inasmuch as I’m accustomed to people
thinking I’m much younger than 69, I took it as an attempt at revenge for my not playing the game and feigning surprise at her pronouncement her granddaughter was mixed.
At any rate, inasmuch as I'm 74, 69 is
not much of a burn, but if it makes her feel better,
then okay, feel better.
Funny, as usual.
ReplyDeleteSome time ago someone told me off - can't remember what for. He is my landlord, nice guy when he isn't in a bad mood.
Well, I said to him, you should consider how you speak to your elders. What elders? he asked. Poor guy - he is ten years younger than me and thinks me younger than him. It's a light cross to bear - and I didn't put him right. Better if people think they have an advantage over you.
In the meantime my sister who is six years younger than me, never satisfied with our DNA to die for, messes with Botox. Haven't seen her for a long time (years) but her children, my nieces and nephews, when phoning convey a certain amount of disgust - as much as they allow themselves considering that they love their mother. My father, non committal as usual, mumbles something about the wonders of technology. My mother denies all knowledge.
In the meantime I am waiting for one more rite of passage: My hair turning white. Give me a couple more decades I'll get there.
U
Well, hello there U. Thanks for visiting and the comment.
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