One day over my school break, I did a favor for Daughter who had to return to her teaching job a week before I resumed my ongoing education. As a result of her recent promotion to head teacher, she suddenly had the monetary means to refurnish her studio apartment. She posted all of her existing furniture on Craigslist, along with many other belongings now deemed undeserving of occupying the 500 square feet she lives in. Someone needed to be there when the sofa was picked up so I volunteered.
Since Craigslist is Craigslist, and not all the people looking for free sofas necessarily wear a watch, the guy was mega late. So I turned on the TV in time to see one of the AARP commercials that squeeze you by the varicose veins to sell you their long-term care insurance. You’ve seen them; you’ve probably just ignored them figuring they’re not aimed at you. But they want you to know you’re EXACTLY who they’re for when they say, “Not yet an AARP member? Have we missed you with our relentless bionic mailings? Are you or a family member older than 50 but younger than dead? We’re talking to YOU.”
As many mothers of adult children, I’ve assured both my kids I will never be a burden to them. Husband and I won’t be moving in with either of them and telling them the towels scratch or the den is drafty. We’ve never been the Waltons, and I’m not getting up at dawn to bake muffins for my grandchildren or turn a deaf ear on an argument that doesn’t concern me when I can totally tell who’s wrong. In spite of this, Daughter has informed me she will never put me in a home.
I said no, really, put me in a home. It’ll be a vacation. I won’t give a shit about my cholesterol anymore so just bring me a KFC Value Meal every now and then. It can’t matter once my age is higher than my triglycerides. When my grandmother was 99, she went into assisted living and she’d smuggle a salt shaker into the dining room in the basket of her walker. Someone at her table would distract the staff while she sprinkled salt on her food.
When I visited her there, the floor nurse scolded her for it in front of me and Grandma screwed up her face and said, “I’m almost a hundred! What’s the salt gonna do, kill me? Pretty soon my number’s up so why should I waste my time eating something that tastes like a log?” The nurse was all officious and annoyed, and all I could say was, “Come on, Grandma, don’t sugar coat it. Say how you feel.” We were laughing, but the nurse stalked off in a huff. Too bad for her.
And too bad for me waiting around for the Craigslist sofa guy who never came. When he finally did arrive on a day Daughter was there, he and his friend couldn’t get it in the elevator even though Daughter measured first. Then the building porter showed up all agitated that the doorman saw on the monitor that they were damaging the elevator so the guy got spooked and bolted without even taking the sofa. But then the porter took it away himself, which he’d said a week earlier was out of the question. You want another answer, ask another day.
Today we have guest photographer OJB, a longtime friend of my kids who I’ve known since he was a hopper. For more of his outstanding images, go to http://www.flickr.com/photos/corillien/
eaving arches national park
swans
fire on high
flower at memorial sloan-kettering breast and imaging center
moonshine