A While back…

A while back (while it was still warm outside) I visited the auto parts store – the one where a “male clerk in a skirt” used to work…they have a whole new crew there.   No familiar faces at all.  So I guess they’ve all moved on…  A guy leaving the store ahead of me stood “extra long” at the door,  to hold it for me as I approached.   I gave him my sort-of-feminine-voiced  “Thank you, Sir” and he said “You’re welcome, Ma’am.”  I think my “secret” remained safe…

And at the hardware store, I bought a 50 pound bag of mulch.  The clerk summoned someone to “carry the bag of mulch out to the lady’s car.”  I thanked her…and the guy said “You’re welcome, Ma’am.  “Secret” still safe…

When I got home, after running the car through the local self-wash, our neighbor lady (a seventy-something grandmother) was sitting under the cherry tree in our side yard, having a picnic with her four-year-old granddaughter, whom I also know.  The little girl is a cutie…and we’ve known her since she was a baby.  It was an unexpected surprise that she got up and excitedly ran to my car door once I’d turned off the noisy  V-8, greeting me with a truly friendly “Hi, Mr. (insert my real given name here) and welcome home.”  It was so thoughtful to get this enthusiastic greeting from an unrelated little tyke…I was very touched by it and teared up a little.  Sunglasses are definitely an asset at times like that.  And I hope it’s something which will eventually happen with our own granddaughter.

The three of us chatted for a few minutes, but I had to get to work drying off the remaining water from the car, so I didn’t end up with water spots on its finish.   And as I did, I overheard the little girl (for some odd reason, kids don’t know about whispers at that age) tell her grandma that I was a boy with long hair.  “Yes, he is.”  “Why does he have long hair?”  “Because he likes it.”  The discussion went on for a couple more exchanges and then the little girl changed the subject.   I was shocked (and pleased) to note that my capri pants, tunic and flats (all plainly visible) were not mentioned.  She fixated on my long hair…apparently as do most folks.    The girl’s mother arrived by car a few minutes later and picked her up…so their picnic ended rather abruptly for the day.  But I suspect they’ll be back again – it’s a nice little picnic spot!

At the Nursing Home the next day, my mother was having a public hissy-fit that one of the elderly ladies was staring at her (and of course me) as we traveled down the hall, and dropped her feet to stop movement so she could yell at her some more.   My comment to Mom (which disrupted her yelling) was “So what? I’ve been stared at by more influential people than her.”   Mother persisted in her diatribe.  Thus, Mandy’s Nursing Home Rule Number 1 – “Always separate the verbal combatants and they forget about it after a while.”

Since Mom had her feet firmly planted on the ground, which effectively prevented her wheelchair from moving forward, I simply took the handles, backed it around and hauled her backwards to her room.  She continued yelling at the lady who stared, as we retreated into the distance.   When you can’t stand up, trying to plant your feet on the ground as a brake, makes very little difference when being pulled backwards.   But she gave it her best shot.  Fortunately she doesn’t know about wheelchair brakes…and I don’t plan to show her.  (Not that she’d remember anyway.)

Wonder if the lady was interested in my outfit?  We’ll never know…but haven’t heard any more arguing since then…

More later…

Mandy