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8/9/10

Pardon My French

Friday, August 6.

Took the day off work. Mom was dozing out front wearing a suede jacket with sweater sleeves. She had the bag that Anonymous CP gave her (don't know what was in it.).
We head back to her room because she needs to use the bathroom.

I've decided to document the shelf objet d'art.

This week:

It's a shrine either:
A.) To my brother
B.) Christmas
C.) Diet Sunkist
or
D.) All of the above
It's nicely arranged. In the envelope behind the pine cone is a pair of underwear.


I find some black linen pants and a t-shirt because it's 98 degrees (again) and get the lock box out from under the bed. This should hold the Mother Lode of jewelry.

There's a bowl in the bathroom with a pair of underwear folded neatly in it.
"I was in a hurry.", she says when I mention it.
Well that explains it. (Although it does not explain the pair in the envelope.)

Get her to change clothes; she has two bras on. (What is the deal with the two items of clothing?!)
She likes the linen pants. Doesn't remember having them.

As we leave, she asks, "Why do you have that?", pointing at the lock-box. "That has my stuff in it."
I'm going to put it in a safe place for you.
"Oh, okay."

Where's my Staples "EASY" button?! I've been plotting how to get that box out for weeks.

It's nail day, and that means Wal-Mart in Hillsborough. Not a soul in there and she's done pretty fast.

Wants to hold my hand crossing the street. Still calling me Mommy. I ask her again what my name is.
"Mommy."
Stop that! Seriously, what's my name?
Bob?
"No."
Russell?
"No."
I name off a few more names, some ridiculous, then,
Elizabeth?
"Yes." (It is.)
"I thought about it and just kept going."

On the way back to Durham, some so-and-so in a large foreign car does not move over (even though there was plenty of time and room) as we're merging onto I-40 and I drop the F-bomb (as I am prone to do for offenses much less than this).
Pardon my French I say.
"Your French was wonderful!"
That was funny.

We're waiting to make the turn into the shopping center (another Wal-Mart) for lunch at Jason's Deli and she flips her shade down and says, "Well, you were talking about talking."
As a homeless man makes his way down the meridian, she says, "Uh oh, here he comes." She sounds disgusted.
She spots another homeless person across the road, "I see a man wanting something. Too bad."

We get a piece of strawberry shortcake to share, she gets a chef's salad, a Reuben for me.
She conversates with the salad:
"Be good now tomato."
As she picks up some lettuce:
"Flipper! Where's flipper?"

"I don't know what you're thinking in your brain."
Guess what, I don't know what's in yours.
"I don't either."

I show her a picture of Oscar on my phone,
"I always thought he was very lovely."

We went to Kohl's to take advantage of the tax free weekend and a 15% off coupon.
She halts right in front of the costume jewelry.
Ten minutes, three necklaces, and one bracelet later, we move over to the clothes. She ends up with one pair of pants and two t-shirts.
All of which she will forget she has.

She needed to wear the jewelry out.

She felt up to a drive to the animal shelter so I could drop off some old linens, including a $60 duvet cover Oscar ruined by tearing holes in it.
("Lovely" cat indeed.)
We looked at cats, "I hope they can come live with me.", (I resisted the cutest little black cat named Prince - because we have "the balance".) and a couple of dogs through the door. Not a peep about Mookie.

We stopped off at Cook-Out to get a coke, (the best, with a nice bite and crushed ice), and she decided she was hungry. Ordered her a small burger and fries. We just ate.
It's that hollow leg.

Five hours after we started, she was back home.
"That was nice. Thank you."

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