Friday, July 12, 2013

It Does Matter To Her

Are you sitting down? That's not a rhetorical question. I'm serious. All of you who have a habit of standing while you catch up on your blog-reading need to plop your fanny onto the settee. I will not be responsible for any concussions incurred from fainting falls.

Okay, now that you're seated, get a grip, brace yourself, and hang onto your hat.


Easy there. Don't be jolted off the settee as the world stops revolving, spinning slowly down to die. Baby, Mom a-wants slaw. She would give everything she owns just to have her slaw again. SLAW! Look what you've done to her! You've taken the heart of her, and left just a part of her. Mom went truckin' down the highway. I hope you got outta her way. Wouldn't you know it? She wouldn't show it. But Mom was looking for all the sweet slaw she could find.

Here's the deal. I tried to call Mom this morning at 7:50. She didn't answer. I felt a bit guilty. Maybe she was sleeping in. So I tried again immediately. Time for her to get up. No answer. I DID NOT call her cell phone. No sirree, Bob! I would not be responsible for thirty minutes of purse-rummaging to grab that cell phone from right where she always puts it. I vaguely remembered her mentioning that she might get out this morning to go to the store. She had planned on it Thursday evening when she brought The Pony home. Because SHE WAS OUT OF SLAW. Uh huh. And she had three sausages left, with no slaw! But she didn't want to deal with Walmart at the end of the day.

About an hour later, Mom called me back. "Did you call me?"

"Yes. But I'm folding laundry now. I'll call you in a few minutes." That gave her time to get settled. Because there is no such thing as a quick phone call to Mom. I will abbreviate the conversation. I know you don't have thirty minutes. You might be folding laundry and placing it upon the settee beside you.

"I saw that you had called. I went to Walmart to get my slaw."

"I was getting worried when you didn't answer, but then I remembered you were going to pick up some slaw."

"Well! They were out! I looked and I looked, and the whole slaw section was empty! So I asked one of the deli workers, 'Is there someplace else I should be looking for the slaw?' And that woman said, 'Oh, we don't have any. We may not have it until this afternoon, because we had a power outage, and we had to throw a bunch of it away, and we haven't had time to restock.'"

"See? I told you I would pick some up for you at Save A Lot yesterday morning and give it to you when you brought The Pony home. Then you would have had slaw."

"I know you did. But I just don't like Save A Lot slaw as much as I like Walmart slaw. It is really good."

"So now you don't have slaw. What are you going to do with those sausages?"

"Well, at first I thought I'd run back over to Walmart this afternoon. But then I thought, 'I'm not going to mess with that on the weekend. I'll get it next week.'"

"How can you go that long without slaw?"

"Oh, I have slaw. I went by Save A Lot and picked some up."

My mom. She loves her slaw.


  1. In BigCityLand, we have packaged slaw mix (which they probably DID have at Walmart) and bottled slaw dressing (which they also probably had) and then your mother wouldn't have gotten the DTs over a lack of slaw.

    Too bad that stuff can't be frozen and thawed out in the microwave when emergencies like this occur.

    You should have INSISTED she allow you to get Save-a-Lot slaw for her. Your value as a daughter is dropping slowly...

  2. I like slaw but I don't love it nearly as much as your mom does. But as I think about it a nice plate of slaw would hit the spot right about now.

  3. Sioux,
    My mom used to shred cabbage and carrots and make her own slaw by adding Miracle Whip and sugar (which is a bit redundant in my opinion) and who knows what else and let it marinate overnight in the harvest gold refrigerator. Now she likes the convenience of store-bought slaw.

    Speaking of my daughter is, indeed, dropping faster than the first daily swallow of 44 oz. Diet Coke down Val's esophagus.

    When I took Mom and The Pony to see Despicable Me 2 earlier this week, Mom handed me a twenty in the car. "Will this be enough to buy our tickets?" That Mom! She's so giving of her time and finances.

    "Sure," I said. "It will only be twelve dollars, because it's the first show of the day."

    I paid for the tickets, and pocketed the change as we debated when to get in line and demand fresh popcorn. When I left Mom and The Pony saving our seats to heed the call of popping, I used that money to pay, so I didn't have to break another twenty.

    Back in the theater, watching the previews, Mom leaned over The Pony and said, "Was that enough for tickets?" Silly me. I assured her it was. The true meaning of the question flew right over my head. Mom did not seem her usual feisty self during the movie. When we got back to the car, she seemed preoccupied. It probably did not help that we had stopped at the ATM on the way to the movie to pick up the week's cash, and that I had handed it to Mom and asked her to count it. I know how good she is at sniffing out bank shortages.

    THEN IT HIT ME! "Oh. I need to give you back your eight dollars. I have it right here." I dug through my purse for my small bills. Uh huh. Mom doesn't mind paying her own way. And she generously paid for me and The Pony. But she draws the line at buying movie snacks. I'm back to being the $8 daughter.

    But Mom sure did enjoy that free popcorn refill I got her on the way out.

    I hope you always keep some in the fridge! I was shocked that Mom let herself run out. She's so good at stocking up on bread and milk when a snowstorm is coming. I expected more from her in the way of civil preparedness.