I picked Pan up from work and we headed over to mom’s so that I could set up a shortcut to the Webster site for her and to take a look at a couple of other computer related things before I went to Kim’s viewing. Mom and I had a talk about how I might react seeing someone of my own age. She explained that it was hard for her and made her realize that she was getting older. I wasn’t sure how I was going to react.
We finally headed to the church for the viewing. First to the wrong church because Pan said it was on the other side of the road than what I was saying. Okay, he’s pretty smart and I figured I was just wasn’t remembering correctly. And he had a pretty good reason for believing it was on the left side of the road. All of the houses and business on that side were even numbers. The number for the church was an even number. Still we ended up at the wrong church because I pointed it out, not because he saw it.
Believe it or not, I was correct the first time. It was on the right side of the road. The only even numbered building on that side. Mrs. Who, Sticks, VW and Bou will surely agree that it is just because it was on the road with, what now, 5 or 6 names.
We didn’t stay but about 30 minutes. I wanted to see each of the kids, especially my goddaughter. There were quite a few people there, some I knew, and most I didn’t. The kids were all grown up with children of their own. It had been a while.
Most of all, I remember paying my respects to Kim and realizing that she didn’t look at all like I remembered her. Maybe it was my reaction to the grief of losing her friendship, which made me think that she would have never, ever, worn a bra that looked like it had belonged to Madonna.
All in all, I think I handled it fairly well. But with what came next, I definitely had an outlet.
My brakes locked up on the way home. About an hour and a half away from home actually. While I love Pan dearly, I kept avoiding looking at him directly because I knew my mouth would get ahead of my brain. We pulled into a Ruby Tuesday’s parking lot, and while Pan called our niece, who lived in the city we broke down in, I called Bombshell. Our nephew-in-law recommended a place only two blocks from where we were at and came by to get the extra key to the Explorer to drop off the next morning so we could lock the car overnight.
Bombshell was going out on a date, but sure she would come get us. Two hours later she wasn’t too happy about it, but she found us and home we headed. Of course, we had to listen to her talk to her date for 15 minutes on the start of the drive back. All she could say was how hungry she was and what restaurant was he going to meet her at. Then we had a good time exchanging stories about Indiana and she told me one that was great for the laughter prompt but since we alread had that one here it is:
Indiana is interested in bugs. He loves ants, others he’s not to fond of. Now I understand why. It seems that when Indiana and Bombshell are together and a bug is in the equation, she will point it out, tell him what it is several times, the take a shoe and squash it.
Why she was surprised when he pointed out a bug on the dining room table is beyond me. He kept showing it to her and saying, “bug.” Then he took his piece of pizza and slammed it on the table repeatedly until he squashed the bug. He then turned the pizza over to make sure he got it and then took a big bite out of the pizza and the bug.
Cute story which settled my nerves to some extent. What happened next was priceless, at least to Pan. We were coming upon the exit to our town and I turned to Pan and told him to remind me to take the hamburger out of my purse and put it in the refrigerator. Bombshell turns and yells at me, “YOU HAVE FOOD?” Huh? “YOU HAVE FOOD IN YOUR PURSE?” Well, yeah, it is just a small hamburger I was going to give Indiana for lunch the next day. “I AM STARVING AND YOU HAVE FOOD IN YOUR PURSE?” Oh, I didn’t think about it. “YOU LISTENED TO ME TELL J5 THAT I COULD EAT A HORSE AND YOU HAD FOOD IN YOUR PURSE?” I gave her the hamburger that was the size of a silver dollar, which she inhaled in one breath. I don’t think it really staved off her starvation though.
Then as we pull into the neighborhood, she asks if I finally got her email. Oh yeah, I got it. Cute pic of a little boy with his, well you know, hanging in a bowl of cereal. Kind of reminded me of something Indiana would do, although it looked just like Tot. Then she asks if I noticed that he was flicking you off. Up goes the hand to the mouth and with an audible gasp, "B, I sent that to my mother." Peals of laughter ring through the vehicle as Pan and Bombshell try to hold their tummies in.
When I called mom to tell her we were home and to apologize for it, she didn't realize it either. Then when I was relating the story to bug, she starts to laugh and asked if I realized that Bombshell sent it to her mother. So? What's the point?
2 comments:
Tink, I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend.
What struck me most was this line:
she would have never, ever, worn a bra that looked like it had belonged to Madonna
I used to wonder why all the older ladies in my family would always point out what they wanted to be buried in. Now I understand why.
*Note to HC: I will come back and haunt you if I go before you and you make me look like Madonna. Haunt you forever.*
And Tink, I hate the street of many names. Do you recall when officials were trying to name a street after MLK? It would have made so much sense to make the most confusing street in America be one name. Instead, they go and rename a short street downtown, that had borne the last name of a historical family of the region.
Stupid city officials.
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