She's sitting outside when I come over and toddles out to meet me, "Hi!", she says, arms outstretched. "Come here!"
She gets a big kick out of me pushing the automatic door button with my foot. "Oh, look at that."
We decide on Rick's Diner. I had to park further down the parking lot than usual. I tell her we can take it slow, no hurry. She of course speeds up. She really does seem to have opposite confusion.
She calls the seat belt a bitch; that damn belt moves on her apparently, because she asks where it is each time we get in the car. Is befuddled by the two straps. Then needs to know what to do with it after it's been pulled out far enough. I had to take the sheepskin cover off her seat belt - it was one more moving part and too much entirely.
She spies the little plastic beer mug and beads from Guglhupf last Saturday.
"Oh, it's so cute!"
She is completely thrilled.
As we're waiting at a stop sign, a couple out walking are also waiting for the traffic to ease.
Mom waves, smiles. The man waves back. She gets all flirty and waves again. He must have said something to his wife, because then she's waving.
"That was nice she waved too."
Sure was, considering you were flirting with her husband.
She called me a bug when I pulled a sneezus interruptus on her (you know perfectly well what I mean).
Which is much better than some things she's called me.
Okay, I'll take it.
Being called a bug.
You know, my sister, the pretty one. Your favorite.
Sometimes our entire conversation is like Who's On First.
I mention that Ben, my sister's ex, went up to see my niece and greatnephews in Alaska. (Ben and Mom kept in touch after the marriage was over.)
She got quiet.
"I'd like to see him again."
I'll show you a picture on my phone [from Facebook].
At last - Rick's. My favorite waitress Danielle is working and we ask to sit in her section. She's funny, looks Mom in the eye, and talks to her. Take note people, that is huge in the tip department.
Mom gets chicken livers (gack), corn, potato salad. We had livers and gizzards for supper sometimes when I was a kid. I am not a fan of liver of any kind, but if a gun is to my head, I will choose chicken livers over the chewy disgusting gizzards any day. And over beef liver.
I have meatloaf, mashed and butter beans.
What they call butter beans around here is what we called lima beans [small and green]. Butter beans are big and brown in my neck of the woods. I like 'em both, but like to know what to get my mouth fixed for.
The tea is then pronounced "...real good" and she "...needed some more."
She asks if I have any dogs.
No. Dogs. No dogs.
I don't have any dogs.
"Okay, I can do it if you can do it the same way you don't do it."
She sees a woman who is rather large and I can tell she's gearing up for a comment. She catches my eye and says "Oh god.". I make the zip your lip gesture and she nearly chokes from laughter.
I'm rummaging around for a coupon and find one for another cafe close by.
I need to remember I have that, we'll have to try it.
"You need me to help you."
"You know there's people on the other side."
That's a mirror.
"Oh, that makes it better."
The food arrives. She pokes a chicken liver, "Babies do them."
I don't know what this means. At all. But daresay she doesn't either.
I'm writing down everything you say, I tell her.
"That'll be fun. For both of us."
Then, out of the blue: "He was a nice guy."
"Ugh.", she falls back in her chair, clearly stuffed to the gills.
You don't have to eat them all.
Picks up another large liver and eats it.
"You don't like me."
Eats more corn.
Suddenly she's pushing off from the table.
Are you done?
Okay then, guess we're going.
I ask her to put the tip on the table while I pay the bill. She heads towards a table where people are sitting.
Mom this table.
She heads to the one next to the one we sat at.
I hope she didn't pocket it.
We partake in her favorite pastime, looking at houses. Everything I said tonight was pee your pants hilarious. Wish you had been there.
I told her she needed to be in the audience of a comedy show because she would think peanut butter was funny. And she did.
We pass by a church on the way home. "We don't need that." A pause. "Do we?"
As much as you say oh God and Jesus, they may think this car is a church.
"Great. We'll be having them then."
After we get back and escape (she thinks) past her medicine nemesis (sweet girl but for some reason, Mom doesn't like meds from her.), we sit in the lounge near her apartment.
"You're a nice man."