The afternoon was enhanced by a flat tire half a mile out of my mom's door -- I was driving my her car because it is fun and zippy and mine is a rattly behemoth with wall-eyed headlights and smells like dog. And -- have you guys been waiting this whole month for something confessional? OK, here you go: I have never changed a flat. Not because I'm any kind of shrinking violet -- I've never had a flat. I've seen them changed, I've had it demonstrated for me, I know what page it's on in my owner's manual, but I've never actually done the deed myself. So for a number of reasons that seemed good at the time -- wearing somewhat nice clothes, didn't want to screw it up and have the wheel fall off my mom's car in the middle of Rte. 119 -- I called AAA to come put the donut on so we could limp back to her place and get my car and proceed. Which was all well and good, except it took them a good hour and a half to show up, and time wasted makes me cranky. If I'm not working and I'm not reading and I'm not cooking and I'm not getting some form of exercise and I'm not sleeping, I'd better be doing something fun -- not sitting in an office park in lower Westchester on an overcast, windy day. It was what you might call an Exercise in Letting Go. And hey, extra time with mom, even though the she wanted to talk about picking out the accessories she wore that day and I wanted to pace.
But OK, we were only two hours later than planned, and the party was fun. It's always good to see everyone. And extra time with mom! Who, by the way, outdid herself on the Overprotective Mom Comment of the Day -- I like to privately time it and see how long, from the moment I step into her house, it takes her to say something ridiculously over-the-top motherish. Today was about ten minutes from point of entry. I had helped her transfer the weird bean dip she'd made to a serving bowl and had put the original container, as directed, into the sink, when she told me, "Just fill it up with water. The hot water is the faucet on the left."
And you all wonder why I can't change a tire! I was raised to have servants. Something didn't work out, though.
[The photo is of my mom, my brother, my sister, and me in 1965. If my sister ever sees that I posted this she will disown me immediately and there will be no more family reunions, ever. So don't tell her.]