My mom sometimes fails to realize that she is living in a technologically advanced civilization. Wednesday afternoon, I picked her up to ride with me to run eight errands after school. It was an abbreviated teacher work day. Good thing. I got home later than a regular day at school.
We traveled to a nearby town for financial business, and The Pony asked for some breadsticks from Captain D's. He makes a meal of them. In fact, he eats them in the car. Can't even wait to get them home. So I have to ask for butter and a knife at the drive-thru. We motored merrily along, Mom and I gossiping and The Pony strapping on the old feedbag.
I pulled up at the bank drive-thru to deposit some cash. Mom, in the passenger seat, because what self-respecting eight-dollar daughter would put her mom in the back seat and her adolescent son in the front, turned to look at The Pony. You know that grandma-grandson look. How she adores him! "Is that good. Mmm...mmm. Is your tummy getting full?" And she made that sound like a grandma makes to represent tasting something tasty. Kind of smacking her lips in an imitation of eating.
"You know they can hear everything you say, right?" I put my deposit in the pneumatic tube canister thingy. Looked sideways at Mom. "They have a microphone so they can hear. I'd like to point out that it's not ME saying that stuff."
Mom's eyebrows went up. "Ohh...!"
"Lean up so they can see you! Don't be shy! Here. Come forward a little so they can see around me..." I patted her on the back. Leaned myself back against T-Hoe's driver's seat to give the drive-thru tellers a good view.
Mom was laughing so hard she couldn't talk. "I...I...oh...hahahahahaha!"
"This is how Genius got me laughing at home the other day. I was so sad about him leaving that I didn't even get mad when he asked if I was having a stroke." Mom laughed harder.
"Oh...oh...I...can't...stop..." Between the two of us, we were shaking that car more than two teenagers in a shaggin' wagon with a bumper sticker advising folks not to come a-knockin'.
The drive-thru tellers did not let on. I imagine they've heard stuff that would curl Cher's hair. As we drove away, Mom gasped, "Oh. I am exhausted. I'm not working in the yard when I get home. This was enough of a workout for me."
Laughter. The medicine Val dispenses without a license.