Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Live Like This, Pal

May 11, 2005 ... 12:27 p.m.

[last week]

Bootsie: “Eib! Vonzell’s singing ‘Treat Me Nice’!”
Eibisch: “I’m gonna be sick.”
*VONZELL*: “... run your big, strong fingers through my hair ...”
Eibisch: “Dear God, if you like me even a little, please make her stop. Amen.”
*VONZELL*: “... if you really want my loving ...”
Eibisch: “Well. Obviously, God hates me.”
Bootsie: “Heh, Carrie’s singing ‘Trouble’.”
Eibisch: “Oh, now He’s just being mean..”

We took my grandma shopping Saturday for her 80th birthday. My grandpa turns 80 in August. It’s hard to believe they are that old. It’s worrisome. That’s all I’ll say -- it’s worrisome.

In June, they will have been married 59 years. Which is, like, whoa. I mean, wow.

Anyway, we went to Coral Ridge and it was very crowded. I took a spin on the carousel, as I am wont to do. I am so 28, I just had a very repressed childhood. Or something.

I like the dragon.

Grams wanted some Spring clothes, so we headed to Dillard’s, which was at the exact opposite end of the mall. On the way, I ducked into Bed, Bath & Beyond to see if they had any Green Tea shampoo, which I adore. They have discontinued it. Of course. The salesgirl did tell me they were have a big sale in June and they often bring out discontinued items. We’ll see. I did try some gardenia scented lotion. I do loves me some gardenias. It smelled very nice and after it dried it felt like powder. I wasn‘t going to spend $20+ bucks on a bottle of lotion, though.

I popped into Victoria’s Secret, but didn’t get anything. I was tempted. but I couldn’t find what I liked in a color that I liked.

When we finally made it to Dillard’s, the first thing we saw was a huge display of shoes. It was like Dillard’s had turned into a shoe store. So many pretties, so little time. I didn’t find any I liked or rather, I didn’t find any I could afford. I did get a dress. It’s a summer dress with spaghetti straps. It’s seafoam green and has asymmetrical chiffon panels in a darker green and yellow. Bootsie and I went back and forth about in the dressing room, talking about the line and the darting and blah blah blah. We watch “What Not To Wear” way too much.

Shut up!

Seriously. We do.

Grams got a few things and I picked out a really nice pair of pink pants for her. She hemmed and hawed before deciding to buy them, but she called me the next day and pointedly observed that she had not seen anyone in pink pants. Lo siento, Abuela. Geez. Be a trendsetter.

Did I mention that Dillard’s was playing love songs over and over? Because they were. Over and over. I honestly dozed off while Grams was in the fitting rooms. So, Bootsie and I went and tried on hats, scarves and sunglasses.

My sister looks great in any type of hat. I do not. No matter what combo we tried, I always ended up looking like a post-cancer Jackie O (and that was a GOOD look) or Bernie.

Look, I don’t get out much. If you’re going to read this, you need to expect some arcane references to a time when Andrew McCarthy was still relevant, okay?

I think we went to Ann Taylor next, where I was drawn in by an extremely shiny jacket. It was pink and green and ... well, it was ghastly. But it was shiny and so I tried it on. It weighed about 97 pounds. Also, itchy. Alas, no shiny jacket for Eibisch.

Onto Old Navy. While we spent a total of 23 minutes in the store, we were assaulted by that song “Incomplete”. Not once. Not twice. THREE times. In 23 minutes. I did manage to find a pair of flip-flops -- SHINY -- that I liked. Bootsie and I attempted to venture into the baby section, as her Goddaughter turns two this month, but it was madness. The Kids Gap store wasn’t as crowded, even.

For lunch we went to Bennigan’s. It was C-O-L-D, cold in that restaurant. They had the temp set to, like, cryogenic or something. I ordered a Buffalo Chicken sandwich combo and Bootsie ordered a cheeseburger. I love chicken, my sister does not. I took one bite of my sandwich and couldn’t eat it. So my darling sister, who does not enjoy chicken of any type, traded me.

And then we realized we had done the exact same thing a few months ago. I have been barred from ordering buffalo chicken for all eternity. I always think I’m going to like it, but I never do.

Nobody but me was pleased with our waiter, either. Well, Grams never said anything one way or the other. Mom had to wait for over 10 minutes for a refill of her coffee and my sister’s Pepsi refill took a while, too. My refill was very timely. It was either my “please” and “than-you”s that did it or the power of my cuteness. Plus, I was wearing a pink dress.

Pink + Eibisch = awesomely adorable.

Afterwards, my grandpa and his sister met us at our house for a mushroom dinner.. Yep, mushrooms. Morel mushrooms, which are so, so, so good.

Sunday, Mom and I went over to the grandparents’ condo to plant flowers. Impatiens and daises, mainly, along with some tomato plants. It was a really nice day. And my grandpa tried to pay Mom for the help. He always does that, we refuse, it goes back and forth until he threatens to never ask our help again if we don’t accept some kind of payment.. So we do. But I cook them dinners every week and refuse any payment, because I tell them I’m using them as guinea pigs for new recipes. Which is sometimes true. Or, like, I make the most wicked awesome clam chowder, so it’d be a shame to let that innate talent waste away, but I can’t eat it. I even have to wear gloves to chop the clams.

Damn shellfish allergies.

So, I make it for them. Sunday, we happened to mention Bootsie was making ribs -- Bootsie makes kick-ass ribs -- and he started asking all kinds of question. Pork? Beef? Smoked? Blah blah blah. Then offered me ten bucks to make them ribs.

Grandpa has muscular dystrophy and can’t carry and lift, etc. Grandma had cancer and the chemo did a number on her lungs, so she needs oxygen and an inhaler a lot, plus she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her shoulder and, even though it healed, she can’t really lift.

Of course, Bootsie made him ribs and mashed potatoes and I made a rhubarb cake. Bootsie took it over to their condo and said Grandpa was sooo happy that he could barely talk because he just kept eating. You just don’t know how that wrecks me. I need to start my own little Meals On Wheels program, because they mostly just eat frozen pizzas and sandwich-y stuff. And I can’t be allowing that.

We’ve been getting some new floors installed. Stone/tile/wood, stuff. The installer dudes are a damn headache.

They gouged up our antique handmade oak library, broke bunch of woodwork trim, tore one of the hoses for the clothes dryer and broke my nightlight.

Yeah. I have a nightlight. I don’t gotta explain nothin’.

And the big one -- they smashed the lock on our screen door because they didn’t know how to open. Of course the didn’t ask, they just wrenched it open. Of course, they didn’t tell us they did that. Instead, they left it wide open for hours while they worked.

Which meant that we had to keep Tinker locked in one of the bedrooms all day, lest he sneak out. Not only that, but ... wasps. Unfettered wasp access.

The second day, they put down some glue that needed to dry for 2 hours. They put it down so I couldn’t go in the kitchen over the lunch hour(s), then they went to lunch leaving the door wide freaking open and the stereo on, loud, playing the country station. I couldn’t get to it to turn it off. I learned that I cannot tolerate Tim McGraw, that Kenny Chesney is quickly falling from his ELVIS and Janis Joplin name dropping related status of “somewhat tolerable”, that Faith Hill just ... shut up, Faith and that I ADORE Shooter Jennings. And, in fact, rushed out to get his album Put The “O” Back In Country.

But also? The workers used my bathroom, which is fine. They kept leaving the seat up which, you know, whatever, they’re men. They. Would. Not. Flush.

Gah.

GAH!!!

They’ll be back next week to lay the new carpet.

Currently Reading: The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell

Listening To: Stone Roses
... love spreads her arms ...

Have a happy day!

7 ... 8