The Time Of Year When Winter And Spring Come Together In Lloyd

The Time Of Year When Winter And Spring Come Together In Lloyd

Friday, November 9, 2012

I Ain't YOUR Grandmother, Motherfucker

I came home from town this afternoon so tired that walking the distance to the garden to turn on the sprinkler seemed an almost insurmountable task. I did it but I could not bring myself to walk all the way to the hen house to check for eggs.
I simply could not do it.
I put Buster in the back yard and turned on the sprinklers and unloaded the groceries and put them away and then I took a nap. I took a nap at four o'clock on a Friday afternoon and I slept deep and hard and I dreamed I was showing Billy Frank Baisden's house in Roseland and it was so close to here that I could not imagine why it took us so many hours to drive to Roseland.
"We're so silly," I thought to myself. "We could have just walked."
I dreamed I had lost my computer, too. I'd been to Best Buy today with Hank because he needed a new computer and I often dream that my computer is lost or that I can't figure out how to use it or something doomy on that order.
In real life, when I was in Best Buy, I went to check out the new MacBook Pro. I asked a guy, maybe nineteen or so, where the Apple products were and he showed me.
"Don't get excited," I said. "I'm not buying anything today."
"I never get excited," he said.
"I know you're lying," I told him.
"No, it's true. I only get excited around my grandmother so unless you're my grandmother, I'm not going to get excited."

Okay. There are about fifty wrong things with that conversation and let me just make a proclamation to all young men working in retail- telling a woman that she reminds them of their grandmother is NOT good salesmanship. I know I looked bad. I was fairly proud of myself for having earrings in. I was dressed not unlike a bag lady. My hair is getting grayer by the moment.
And yet.

Oh sigh. Oh fuck.

I had just told Hank that I was going to go look at the new MacBooks just to "stick my hand down their pants, squeeze a titty." Yes. I talk like that to my child. He's thirty-six years old. He can handle it. But I wasn't, at that moment, feeling especially grandmotherly, if you get what I'm saying here. And so, when that young whippersnapper said that about his grandmother, implying that I looked like his grandmother, I wanted to smack his face and and tell him to go fuck himself but instead, I said nothing but Lord, child, he made me feel even older and more exhausted than I already did.

And when I woke up from my nap I immediately felt as if I must spring up and make supper and do...something but then I remembered that no, Mr. Moon is out of town and this is the weekend where I am not going to do one damn thing for any person on this earth and the next thought that came to me was that I wished with all of my heart that I had bought a chicken pot pie at the grocery store. I had had a dream a few weeks ago in which I was eating a chicken pot pie. Not a good one. Not like a Marie Callender's chicken pot pie but one of those cheap ones, maybe a Swanson's, which is 90% crappy gravy and three peas and two carrot slices and a tiny cube of chicken-like substance and all of that nasty crust and it was a wonderful dream. Even in my dream, I knew that this was a sub-par chicken pot pie but I loved it.
And I could have bought one today when I went to the Brand New! Just Opened Publix but I didn't. I bought tuna steaks and yogurt and an organic sweet potato instead.

What was I thinking?

I wasn't thinking. I was trying to get my ass through that Publix where people were so overwhelmed with the novelty of being in a Brand New! Just Opened Publix that they were leaving their baskets in the middle of the aisle, blocking my way and every employee was stopping me to ask if I needed help in finding something and I thought I'd die if I didn't get out of there soon, me, the Old Grandmother with my tuna steaks and my yogurt. I did pick up the chocolate halvah and examine it but I knew it was a bad idea to buy such a thing and I left it on the shelf.
And I didn't even think to buy a chicken pot pie, all gravy and crappy crust.

Oh well.

I actually have everything here I need to MAKE a chicken pot pie and I could. I have chicken and peas and carrots and celery and onions and flour and butter. But I am not making one. No way. No how. In fact, I am going to eat leftover soup that I made the night before Mr. Moon left for Canada. It is split pea and a little bit of ham and carrots and beet greens and onions and garlic and tomatoes and that is all I need.

So. Here is a grandmother. Not YOUR grandmother, but a grandmother, nonetheless, and I am going to eat my leftover soup and I am going to go to bed as early as I want to and I am going to read as late as I want to and this weekend I may not talk to a real human soul except on the phone and I sort of want to leave a message on that which says what I used to say to the children when I laid down to take a nap which was, "Unless there is blood gushing from a wound or someone is on actual fire, do not bother me. Take care of it yourself."

But of course I'll have to talk to Lily to see how my grandsons are doing because I'll want to and also to Hank to see how his new computer is and also to Jessie because we haven't spoken all week and also to May because I simply love talking to her BUT THAT'S IT!

Maybe.

I wish I'd bought that halvah. I wish I'd told that kid to go fuck himself. I wish I could come to grips with my age.

I wish I had a pot pie.

But I don't. And my entire goal for this weekend is to cut camellias and bring them into the house and put them in a vase and to clean out the hen house.

I think I can handle that.

But if I can't, I can't. And that, too, will be just fine.







24 comments:

Dayna said...

I went into the liquor store the other night to procure some fixins and the clerk looked at me funny and then looked away and then looked at me funny again and I said, "Do you want ID?" because at this store, they often do... and he said, "No, I can tell you're a mom." I was a little dumbstruck and not as quick witted as I should have been. I am 37 and it is probably pretty obvious that I'm a mom but damn. I should have asked him if he'd ever heard of Teen Mom motherfucker.

Have a great weekend, Mrs. Moon!!

Mel said...

Dang Mrs. Moon, I just ate one of those Marie Calendar Chicken Pot Pies AND made homemade from scratch Chicken and Dumplings made in the cast iron dutch oven, and I gotta tell you that the Costco's frozen Maries beat the pants off mine. It was the pastry crust and the salt, it was divine. So are you, for making me laugh out loud tonight. And fuck yeah. Maam. I don't want to be the tribe elder yet. Pick someone else.

Thanks for making me laugh tonight, and think about the comfort of pot pie and the joy of a camelia and how lucky we are to have such kids.

xo

Nancy said...

I just had a rather luxurious bubble bath; I'm wrapped up good and tight in a terry robe; I poured myself an icy glass of Verner's ginger ale; I logged on here to see how people have spent their day, and WHAM! There's your headline at the top of the roll. I haven't even read the post yet because I can't stop laughing at the title. I don't know why I let you do these things to me.

Joanne Noragon said...

I decided to upgrade my haircuts, and went to a real shoppe. The sweet young girl asked if I happened to be in my seventies. I did tip her for the nice haircut, but I didn't go back.

nicol said...

I wish you would have said that to that sales guy too.

It's cheese-popcorn and seltzer water for me this evening. A Swanson pot pie sounds glorious. Now I will not stop thinking about it.

SJ said...

I am an excellent pot pie maker! And ironically, it's one of the only dishes I make pretty well that I didn't ask you to help me with at some time or another....guess what I made last night? Deer steak.

Love you.

Anonymous said...

I hope you have the best weekend ever. You deserve a real luxurious rest and to do anything you want to do. I really don't think the sales guy's comment had anything to do with you. You are so young to be a grandma but i do know those aches and pains that creep up on you. I had guiltless mac & cheese for dinner from Trader Joe's. I would have preferred a pot pie... S. Jo

beth coyote said...

Honey, if I had a crappy CPP (chicken pot pie) and I do know exactly the kind you mean, I'd bring it right over and I'd even cook it for you.

I pretend I'm young. I try not to ever see myself in a mirror. And my gray hair is 'prematurely blonde".

But I think that child in the Best Buy needs a slap.

Sheesh.

Pamela said...

I would have told him that I was a great grandmother and he was a motherfucker.

PMS today? Oh, hellz yes.

Steve Reed said...

I'm not sure he MEANT to imply that you were like his grandmother, but maybe he did. You were there, so you're a better judge of that. I think the bigger question is, why does he get excited around his grandmother? What's that all about?

I never realized a Marie Callender's was an especially premium pot pie. Hmmm...

downtown guy said...

The only joy to be had in a pot pie is the gravy and crust anyway.

Syd said...

Love your description of the pot pie. My dad used to say that Campbell's chicken soup tasted like someone had tied a piece of chicken to a string and dragged it across the pond near our house. LOL.
Enjoy your Saturday of doing nothing. I am not doing much either.

bugerlugs63 said...

Great post here and the one you linked to; The house in Roseland, too. What a great story, thanks.
I dream that I can't get through to folk on my phone, neither by call or text . . . hmmmm.
I wish I could come to grips with having to pluck my "beard" every damn day now, instead of once a week! . . . And having a five yr old daughter who comes out of school with her best friend and says to me
"Mum, tell Jasmine you ARE my mum and NOT my grandma . . ."
Hey diddly Ho x x

Lois said...

We have a new Publix?

Ms. Moon said...

Dayna- I went, almost literally overnight, from being carded to being asked if I qualified for the senior discount.
I'm still not over that.

Mel- I know. What else can you do?

Nancy- That whole image just makes me smile. Thank you.

Joanne- Fuck shoppes. Go to Cost Cutters. Where the girls are so nice. Ladies. Women. Whatever.

Nicol- I was taken aback, as they say.

SJ- Was it good, the deer steak? I am declaring a moratorium on venison this week.

Sweet Jo- Yes. He WAS comparing me to his grandmother. No other explanation.
How good can guiltless mac and cheese possibly be?

Beth- And I should have been the one to deliver it. The slap. You're so sweet.

Pamela- Sometimes I think that menopause has dumped me into permanent PMS. This is so sad.

Steve- I think he was trying to be charming in such a way that a grandmother would appreciate. Obviously, he is clueless. Compared to Swanson's, yes, Marie makes a gourmet pot pie.

DTG- You are so right.

Syd- Your father's description was not completely off base. I hope you're enjoying your Saturday. So far I have taken a bath.

Bugerlugs- Aging is just the suck, isn't it? I swear.

Lois- Yes. The one on Mahan? Right after Capital Circle? They moved across the street. There's a whole new mall-thingee there.

Billy Lunsford said...

First, I don't think he was saying that you look like a grandma. I would say something like that and then think, "shit. This lady probably thinks I just called her old. But I just love my MawMaw. Damn." And second, lemme guess: sack dress and a backpack purse, grandma? Third, thanks for dream showing me a house.

Ms. Moon said...

Billy- Nah. This child was not you. Nor does he probably even care about his grandmother. And no, I was wearing pants and a shirt and, okay, the pants were baggy but they were NOT elastic-waisted or cargos and the jacket I was wearing was DORKY and WHAT'S WRONG WITH A BACKPACK PURSE, DAMMIT! So, yeah, my hair was in what you might call a bun.
Okay. You win.
I was so happy to show you that house. You kept having to go chase Waylon though.

Ajax said...

"stick my hand down their pants, squeeze a titty." crack me the eff up. and "i only get excited around my grandmother" ummmmmm that's really somethin. Definitely the zaniest thing i've heard all day.

Ms. Moon said...

Ajax- It was truly a WTF moment.

Billy Lunsford said...

Ok, backpack purses? Do not get me started. We are watching Ru Paul's Drag Race so I'm extra judgy, snarky fag right now. They're bad. Just bad. I would almost rather you have your toes hanging over the front lip of your shoes than carry one of those tacky things. Almost.

Ms. Moon said...

Billy Sugar- You are never, ever going to wean me from my backpack purses. No way, no how. So just get over it. I have THREE large Coach packpack purses and one small one. Also, my favorite purse in the whole world that I've ever owned which I got at Goodwill and which appears to be brandless but which was hecho in Mexico and which I have taken to Mexico at least twice and which is the Cargo Pants of purses.
So forget it.
Leather packback purses. Love them if you love me.
Or...don't. But don't quit loving me. Okay?

Billy Lunsford said...

I love you with all my heart, sweet Marymoon. Lets just chalk this up as yet another thing we disagree on but which has no effect on our relationship. Coach? Now that we can agree on.

Ms. Moon said...

Darlin' Billy - So, if Coach makes backpack purses, it's all right? I think maybe. Nothing we disagree on will ever, EVER get in the way of how much we love each other.
I mean it.

Billy Lunsford said...

No. Coach is amazing IN SPITE of the fact they make backpack purses. But that's ok honey. We will still be BFF.