Appointment with my Senility Counselor?

[Written April 15, 2015]

I have marked myself out on my work calendar for tomorrow from 11:30 to 12:30 pm with a description that no one, not even I, can decipher. It says “LUNCH PLANS.”

Yeah…I know I’ve got LUNCH PLANS (in UPPERcase letters so it must be important business), but what the H they are…I have no flipping clue.

I will check my phone records to see if I can figure out if I have a doctor’s appointment, nail appointment, hair appointment, or an appointment with my senility counselor.

Dressing Rooms in the Maternity Dept. at Macy’s

[Written May 2, 2015]

Now that I am finished shopping at Macy’s Friends/Family Sale, here’s my shopping tip:

Don’t stand in line downstairs waiting to try on clothes. Load up with as much as you can carry and head upstairs to the maternity and ladies plus size dept. where the dressing rooms are roomier and there is seldom another woman in sight.

I did that today after surveying the dressing rooms on the first floor, the mobs, and standing in a long line for about 30 seconds. I thought about how quiet the second floor was and headed that way. Once upstairs, I tried on clothes, made my purchases, and was out of there within ten minutes….oh, how I loved those big dressing rooms.

Martian Law

[Written May 5, 2015]

Just got off the phone with Mother. What began with a nice chat, ended abruptly over what Mrs. X, told Mother that she read on the internet. In typical Janet-style, Mother delivered half of a nonsensical discussion peppered with familiar political names and apocalyptic phrases. THIS is the very reason I swore off discussing current events with my mother.

“Mom, that’s like me getting my world news from the nail salon…it is ridiculous.”

Mom: “Well, you asked me about it. I don’t even know what martian law is.”

Me: “No, no, no…no, I didn’t ask you. But, I need to get off the phone and go wrap my head with foil. The internet says it will keep those martians from talking smack to me…you know…like they are to Mrs. X.”

Mom: Ha, ha, ha. I meant “martial.”

Me: Yeah, I know! Ha, ha! I still don’t want to talk about it.

Janet’s Version of the Brazos River Rising

[Written in May, 2015]

Since the heavy rains started this spring, I have tried to connect the dots with Mother and explain that Southern Brazoria County might see the Brazos River rise as high as we did back in the 90s, and that it could be higher.

I might as well be Charlie Brown’s teacher…”Waah, waah, waah.” Janet is trying to spin the imminent river cresting into some kind of mismanagement of government funds. She thinks it’s got to have something to do with “they,” “them,” or “some of ’em” and what they are doing wrong, or maybe even “them” raising her taxes.

Mother is an extremely smart woman, but this cresting of the river business has nothing to do with what’s important to her–for instance, things like her playing the piano, who she went to Center High School with, whether Warren’s eating too much ice cream, what she is going to take to church for potluck next Tuesday, or bluegrass music. It’s hard to pin her down on a reasonable question regarding the Brazos River or to a straight answer on how the river looks.

Admittedly, I have a bit of an obsession with the river as it is back home during floods and coming out of the banks. My dad’s grandmother drowned in the river as a very young mother and I’ve always had a fearful respect for the Brazos. Since, I am not there to look at it now, I can’t help but ask Mother how fast and high that muddy red water is running. She could not care less to discuss it.

I remember it coming out of the banks in the 90s when the National Guard was posted along Hwy. 35, the cattle standing in water in good pastureland out on FM 521 and Hwy 35, homes and businesses flooding out on Hwy. 36, the panic of getting cattle out of places where it was possible to get them out of. I’m concerned and I am trying to figure out who I can put in charge of keeping an eye on her next week so she doesn’t tell Warren they need to go driving around looking for bluegrass music and wind up in a cow pasture.

However, when I ask about the river, she just wants to shut me up. When I inquired about how it looked when she crossed the Brazos river bridge today, I couldn’t get a straight answer. Of course, she hadn’t paid a bit of attention, but she didn’t want to say that. Here’s what she said…

<<You heard it here first,folks>>

“Well, you can tell SOMETHING is going on. Brazoria is one of the LAST STOPS THAT WATER MAKES.”

You don’t say.

Yeah…I’d better call Warren’s son tomorrow…because, I’m going to a wedding. Russell, it’s your turn, little brother.