I've Got a Good Mind To Pull Into Her Driveway When It Snows

You might think that because I haven't been sharing much about my mom lately, she has been behaving herself. Or that she can't get into much trouble, being housebound for a while. If that's your manner of thinking, you need to enroll in Val's School For The Sadly Misinformed. Pick up a brochure on the counter of my proposed handbasket factory.

As you know, this is Chex Mix Season. Uh huh. I churned out four batches so far. Maybe five. I kind of lost count. We have a tiny stash left for personal consumption. All my gifts have been given. At last count, I doled out 30 containers. I had two set aside to give Mom's neighbors. Not the guy who sits on his porch and watches her. The one who had a tree fall across his driveway, and it took him a week or so to cut through it to get out, all the while my mom refusing to help him or take him any food, her reasoning being, "He HAS a wife!"

No, this Chex Mix was designated to the neighbor who has been there since I was a kid, the guy from Croatia who works making fancy wooden doors. He is a bit hard to understand, but his wife, who is from here, is not. When I first went to Mom's house after she'd been hospitalized, Neighbor ran right over. "Don't worry if you see footprints. I brought the mail to the door. I will take care of it." He also shovels her driveway sometimes, and blows her leaves. Not if she catches him, of course. She's too independent for that. But she gives him a baggie of Chex Mix when she makes it. He loves the stuff. And he loves getting the leftover tabloids that I give mom. As his wife says, "He can hardly wait to see who's gay this week." They are good people. They pass those tabloids on to other folks. I'm surprised that The National Enquirer and The Globe don't go out of business from my recycling tactics cutting into their profit.

So...I kept forgetting to take those two containers of Chex Mix to the Neighbors. There they sat, white with a snowflake pattern in red, with their bright red lids not catching my eye as I walked past them every time I was headed to Mom's house. I finally remembered on Monday. For good measure, I scooped up a little extra from our personal stash. So I had two festive containers and two baggies to give them. A regular cornucopia of Chex Mix. My plan was to stick them in the mailbox. Then I remembered how Mom's mail lady had taken a card with MOM'S name on it that Mom's friend had put in her box, thinking it was meant for her.

"Hey, I figured I could fit these two containers of Chex Mix in Neighbor's mailbox if I stood them on their sides, but I don't want the mail lady to get them."

"Well, you could drop them off after the mail has been here, and I'll call. Or you can bring them by earlier, and when I go to the bank with your sister, I can put it in there."

Best laid plans. My sister the ex-mayor's wife did not show up that day. So Mom called Neighbor and told him she had some Chex Mix I had brought him, and she would put in on her porch so he could pick it up. And she did. All's well that ends well, right? Right?

Au contraire. It's my mom we're dealing with. My Mom The Contrarian.

"Neighbor came over and got your Chex Mix. I bet he was really glad to get it. I put in a check for them, too, because they paid my water bill while I was in the hospital."

"Oh, you didn't go to town and put it in their mailbox?"

"No. We're going tomorrow. So I just put it on my porch."

"I hope they eat the part in the baggies first. It gets stale faster than the Chex in the containers."

"Oh, I took it out of the containers. I put it all in baggies."

"WHAT? I had those containers for them. That's how I always give it out."

"I thought you wanted those back."

"No...I don't ask for the containers back. They're from Walmart. About a dollar. What would I do with 30 containers until next year?"

"Well, they're on the counter. You can use them again."

"I'll bet he thought, "Mom's daughter is a cheapskate. Stuffed my Chex in baggies, like leftovers. And she picked out all the Bugles, too!"

"Oh, I'm sure he didn't. I put mine in baggies to give him."

"Great. He probably thought it was from you."

"No. I said it was from you."

"Now I feel bad. I could just picture him prying open that red lid and inhaling."

"When are you coming to get your containers."

"I don't know, Mom. This week."

It would have been so simple for her to hang that bag containing the two containers and two baggies out on her doorknob for Neighbor. But no. She had to empty the containers into at least three baggies apiece, and appears to have had my sister the ex-mayor's wife wash my containers.

I don't know why it's so hard for her to stay out of trouble.