Happy Birthday Mary Frances!

I woke up feeling like it was Christmas morning. Jumped up, showered, and woke up Mary Frances. We piled in the car to head to Seaboard to have lunch with my sister and bring my great niece Molly home with us for the weekend.

Except……

It was also the day of Mama’s surprise birthday party!

Last year on November 30^th, I took Mom to lunch at Ralph’s in Weldon (her favorite!) and we very serendipitously ran into Ann Scott, daughter of her best childhood friend Scotty,…so we decided on a redo but to open it up to other of Mom’s friends. We told Mom my sister and I would be taking her to lunch at Ralph’s for her birthday.

So I set about keeping a whopper of a secret! Which for me is p-r-e-t-t-y tricky.

The morning went as planned, with my BP inching upward the closer we got to noon. I postponed leaving Mama’s house so that I would be fashionably late…but for once there was NO traffic and ONLY green lights. My friend Lyndsay gave me a covert call from the restaurant to work out seating details…she was our restaurant scout and in addition to taking her grandmom and a couple of friends, she gathered folks together upon their Ralph’s arrival. My sister was no-where in sight. I almost blew my cover when I asked “Is Elaine there yet” as who would I asking that too??

Luckily, 87 year olds don’t hear so well.

I bluffed the call off as one about what to buy Lyndsay’s son for Christmas…..

Then checked in with my sister, who was stranded in a sea of traffic at the Roanoke Rapids Walmart – where she picked up a cake……so think fast! Think fast…

“Ah…Mom, Elaine’s running late…..let me get some gas…..”

Another covert call with Lyndsay from behind the gas pump….Elaine had not arrived….er…

“Mom, there as a problem with my gas card, I’ve got to go inside…”

So I did. And I stood in one spot. And I texted Lyndsay continuously….

“Can I help you?”

When I looked up from my phone – three of convenience store workers stared me down as if I had rubbed myself down with petroleum products. 

I hastily explained my situation and they were so excited too…

 “Where’s your mama? Is that her at pump #4? How old is she? Does she have any idea there’s a party??”

That last question I didn’t have an answer for….

The next message to my cell alerted me to that fact that Operation MF Birthday was a go!

Back in the car and across the street to Ralph’s. Of course, no handicap parking places so we had a little stroll. Casual, casual I kept telling myself- but I wanted to skip inside!

Once inside we rounded the bend and at the far end of the room I could see two long tables packed with Mama’s friends. They grinned in anticipation of her noticing them.

I steered Mama that way…..the Queen Mary gamboled and rolled on her slow stroll over like the finest luxury liner. No way to rush the grand dame. The midday sun poured in the window and backlit those gathered – hard to see who was there….we inched closer…I was so excited…..”see anyone you know?”

Elaine, Mama, and Me

Everyone burst into a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" and for once my mom was at a total loss for words. She couldn't believe it, she had no idea!!!!

As for me – I was so undone, it was all I could do not to burst into tears!!!

There were friends from church and Seaboard, my aunt Genie and cousins Marcia and Shelia, Ann Scott (from Richmond), Ann (Fleetwood) Edwards (from Wake Forest) and Nancy Ann (Crocker) Tillery. The thing that was so very special about these 3 Ann is that they are all daughters of 3 of mom’s dearest friends.

Ann, Ann Scott, Nancy Ann

Shelia, Aunt Genie, Maric

Janie and Lyndsay

Linda and Cleo

Elaine, Alice, and Joseph with the Queen

Estelle and Carol

It was a boisterous affair – plenty of sweet tea, BBQ, hushpuppies, gifts and more gifts, a dozen roses from my sister and a gorgeous chocolate cake frosted with “Happy Birthday Mary Frances”!

Nancy Ann effortlessly did the hostess duties for which I was profoundly grateful – passing Mom her gifts and cutting the cake. It may come as no surprise but most of Mom’s gifts involved chocolate, chocolate, or chocolate. She was thrilled and is currently hiding, hoarding, and rationing these treasures.  

Our waitress, Leigh, was wonderful and also went above and beyond and we are grateful for her help too!

All told, it was a wonderful surprise party – and at 87 years old, Mam's first ever. She kept remarking all weekend that she had no idea. As we walked out of Ralph's she asked me…..

“Did you know about this?”

Well, yes, Mama, I did!!

The Stuff my Nightmares are made of......

So let me say this right up front. Mary Frances has a lung condition. She has some coughing and some mucus. She is followed at Duke and was diagnosed a few years ago after her local yahoos told her she had lung cancer.  Her condition is inconvenient, not considered contagious, and a sight better than lung cancer.  However, it requires a healthy amount of tissues.

This post is about my aversion. To tissues.

When I was little I had the life-scarring experience of having my dirty face washed with wet tissues! Repeatedly. I am having flashbacks as I type this of being in our green tiled “guest” bathroom with Mama’s hand under my chin (to hold me still) and COLD, wet tissue being scrubbed across my checks to wash off any presumed smudges. Are you cringing yet? Even the memory makes me gasp!

So what is the common denominator of being with Mom wherever we are – Seaboard or Durham, home or out and about? TISSUES!!! USED TISSUES! UNUSED TISSUES! EVERYWHERE!!!

Before our recent return to my hometown, I had noticed that Mom’s mid-sized Vera Bradley was growing fatter and fatter. I nearly fell out when I looked inside and found out it was FULL OF TISSUES and there was no way to determine which were dirty and which were clean, so I , uh had to take them all out and to Mama’s chagrin  insisted on throwing all of them away. I found 2 nice purse packs of Kleenex and put those in instead, and am praying that they will not run amok while I’m not looking.

So like the children in Hansel and Gretel leaving breadcrumbs, Mom leaves a trail of tissues, in the car, in the couch, in her lounger, in her bed. I never know where one will turn up and whether it is clean or not. In her mind, clean is whether it is still, er, usable. And she also will squirrel away “clean” paper towel remnants for later use. I try to go behind her and throw them away, but I must be EVER VIGILANT.  

And then there are the pockets. As you might imagine I am afraid to slip my hand into the pocket of Mom’s skirts prior to washing them, because there might be tissues WADDED up inside. My subconscious tries to protect me by helping me forget to check, but then I have a washer full of WET tissues which is the only thing worse than tissues of questionable cleanliness. And if I miss them in the washer, then my dryer (and its filter) gets filled with tufts of very cleaned, washed tissues.

My husband knows of horror of used tissues, so in the 30 years we’ve been married he’s coined what he thinks is a cute term for used tissues: fairies! This seemingly innocuous name still represents loathsome tissues filled with…well…yuck!!! He even animates them, making them pirouette to the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies. This is the stuff of my worst nightmares. But wait – don’t answer – when he gets a bad cold he claims a trashcan for used tissues he calls it a FAIRY CASTLE. I run screaming from the room.

Well, now that I’ve shared how vulnerable I am, I think I’ll go have a nice cry. But you can bet your sweet patootie, I won’t be using a tissue to wipe my nose. That’s what shirt sleeves are for.  

The New Man in Mama's Life

Those who live in my small hometown know a secret. A secret that my husband knows. I have a boyfriend named Ralph. I see him as often as I can, usually once or twice a month. He is always there for me. He always knows what I need and he always leaves me satisfied. Perhaps my affection for the other man somehow influenced my Mom to fall in love again. The name of her love is Ollie.

We met Ollie last week when we went over to his place for the first time. He was just so extraordinarily different than anyone Mom had met before! He wooed her with many little gifts and candies, but perhaps what melted her heart was his very extensive collection of books. Every book imaginable and at incredibly low, low prices. You’ve guessed....we’re now part of Ollie’s Bargain Battalion!!

After hearing my friend Laura rave over Ollie's place in Roky Mounr, we decided to find out for ourselves. The flyer in last Wednesday’s News and Observer was the perfect invitation. We loaded up and headed for northern Durham. Upon entering Ollie’s, we hung a sharp left and found ourselves in the midst of a magical book bargain land. I’m not sure how long we hunted books – at least an hour – ohhhing and ahhhing at everything we saw. We stacked so many books in our basket that we had to leave them up front because the sheer weight of the books in Mama’s lap was surely cutting off the blood supply to her legs!

We did enjoy the rest of the store. We saw a large display of these mysterious  ancient objects:

And also this shirt, which obviously no-one wanted.

A good time was had. And, er, we managed to return on Friday. It’s hard to resist a little something special on the side.

Oh, and my boyfriend? I’ll be visiting him in Weldon at the end of the week. I’m filled with anticipation……Thanks Earle, for being so understanding. 

On the Road Again....

So far, Mary Frances and I are having a wild ride. As in Mr. Toad’s. Our first full week of leave and we've been all over the road. Here are the figurative high and low points of last week’s journey.

MONDAY was a stop at a scenic overlook. We had a glorious and quiet day which included wonderful time outside with no mosquitoes  We walked (in low gear) and Mary Frances supervised while I did some painfully overdue yardwork.

WEDNESDAY brought a difficult drive in a fog shrouded valley. Mary Frances and I headed to Dunn, NC to attend the funeral of my dad’s first cousin, aged 78. This gentle, quiet woman chose the timing of her own death rather than continuing to suffer with a degenerative disease. MF and I grieved with family and friends. But we left feeling compelled to get the best miles per gallon on whatever is left in our tank.

THURSDAY our motor purred along. We went to Bible study at a local UMC where our hearts where touched with the scripture readings and our funnybones were tickled. We learned people are people and tiny  “mature” country churches have exactly the same challenges as larger “young” city churches. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Back home we were lucky enough to observe a rare wildlife sighting. The college senior was feeding in his natural habitat consuming veggie burgers and quantities of milk.

After that we took the freeway to a Shopping Spree in the convention center in Raleigh. I lose my noodle anytime I drive to Raleigh. I’m not sure why, but my heart pounds and my blood pressure rises. And no, it’s not the proximity to NCSU. But I found the convention center easily enough and managed to chance into the perfect parking space. (Though my Ford Flex felt a little, er, HUGE in the t-i-g-h-t deck. I’m sure holding my breath helped!)

Mary Frances was like a kid in a candy store. She’d never been to anything like this annual event. There were scores of vendors, eye-popping colors in all directions, every gift item imaginable…it was great fun! We especially enjoyed visiting with cousins Patsy, Terry, and Shelia at Patsy’s Belmont Peanuts booth. I overspent and came home and overate chocolate covered peanuts. Perfect end to a perfect day.

A FEW EXTRA PINS ON THE ROADMAP –

Though Mary Frances wasn’t along with Husband and I when we attended a wonderful wedding on Saturday, she was along in spirit. Upon our return from Raleigh, she happily helped us toast the bride and groom with fresh Krispy Kreme doughnuts!

Sunday – church, library, and thrift shopping at Goodwill. Three of my mom’s favorite stops.

Monday – dinner at Outback – where Mom “helped” Earle with his desert.

Who knows what’s around the next curve…

Thanks reader for joining us on our journey! And remember to ENJOY your own ride! 

The Saratoga and the Handmade Parade

Welcome to my new blog.....established to chronicle my adventures with my 86 year old mom, Mary Frances. I've taken a 3 month leave of absence to enjoy some quality time with her - to spend more time in our little  hometown Seaboard, to visit friends and family, to explore the region, to seek out museums and performances and to locate good food, good chocolate, good books and God. Not necessarily in that order.

My  leave of absence started Friday at 6:00 pm  and after seeing an ad for Hillsborough's Handmade Parade decided to start our rambling tout de suite  on Saturday afternoon.

We headed out under a brilliant blue sky and both admired the autumn foliage  on I-40 W. A few minutes drive found us seeking a parking spot in the town parking deck, unpacking the transport chair and heading up the hill.

As I provided the PUSH to get up the hill we met a couple of guys with their dogs - the first a frisky Jack Russel, the second a GIANT NEWFOUNDLAND. Mary Frances was charmed by the  lovely Newfie - who with Mom in the transport chair was on eye level with her.

Folks were wending their way along the downtown and up the hill we went - soon spotting the Saratoga, a restaurant heartily recommended by my friend Leslie. When we opened the door we were mystified - another door - but then reality sunk in - the restaurant was on the second floor.  I opened that door and took a quick look - less stairs than the beach house we inhabited in May - and I could literally see an empty table for two at the top of the stairs.

MF: Look at all those stairs!
Me: You can do it! It's not as bad as the beach house!
MF:: Look at all those stairs!
Me: You can do it!
MF:What are you going to do with the wheelchair?

A quick look located a folded up stroller parked outside.

Me: We'll park it outside.
MF:(Grumbling). Ok,  It's alot of stairs.
Me: You can do it!
MF: Humpf!

So we climbed, step by step.
We stopped halfway.

MF: Someone will get the chair! You have to bring it upstairs!
Me: Okay, let's get YOU upstairs first!

The ascent went well. No supplemental oxygen required. Unfortunately we left the cane in the car, so the journey to the table was a little rickety. But we made it.

The Saratoga was charming - white washed brick walls, windows with bright sun pouring in, local artwork all around. Our waitress quickly appeared and seated us at the table for two - she was efficient and friendly, if a little eclectic looking. (Okay - so she was skinny, with  long shorts and tie-dye T-shirt -but had an outrageous haircut that could only be described as David Bowie as the Goblin King in Labyrinth.) And when Mama pointed downstairs for me to CARRY the WHEELCHAIR UP THE STAIRS, I imposed on the shopowner downstairs to let us stash it there.

Then Mama gave the place her harshest criticism. The worst of the worst. The omega of restaurant insults.

MF: This place is a joint.

Think dark bars, soaked in beer and grease, where degenerate boozers  drink away the evenings away until someone fetches them home because they are too inebriated to drive home.

The Saratoga was NOT a joint.

MF: I'm glad Earle didn't come. He wouldn't like this place.
MF: Tell Leslie next time we are going through the drive through at Hardees.
MF: I give this place zero stars.

I asked for the scones, the specialty of the house, as an appetizer. When they arrived, I found them delicious - light and sweet. Mary Frances took a bite, arched her eyebrow and immediately placed the remainder on my plate.

MF: Earle would not like this place.

We looked around at the art.

MF: $700 for this painting! In a joint!

She eyed the customers. She eyed the waitress.

MF: I wish Laura (our friend who cuts hair) could get hold of her for 5 minutes. Isn't it pitiful??

In Mama's lexicon, "pitiful" has about the same standing as "joint". Bad, real bad.

MF: I think these people are regulars. Who else would climb all these steps?

MF: Why is it taking so long? They are probably going to Hardees to get our hamburgers.

Our hamburgers arrived and were absolutely delicious. Despite herself, Mama ate every bite and even acknowledged how good they were. I asked her if that increased her rating. Yep, she said,one star.

The trip down the stairs went a little slower, but we had the help of several people  with doors or just to offer a steadying hand. I grabbed the chair from it's resting place, mama piled in and up the hill  we went to secure  a shady spot  to wait for 2:00pm.

We were full, we were happy, and we were resting so the time passed quickly. People filled in around us and time continued to pass...no parade....until at last we could hear a drum beat...all eyes strained and we held our collective breath and then it appeared - the Handmade Parade - it was a beautiful, joyful, feast of color and costume - interspersed with drums or music - and Mama's favorite - stilt walkers. With a theme of "Creatures of the Eno" we saw birds, fish, butterflies, snakes, praying mantis,owls, herons, salamanders, beavers, dragon flies, a bat, a spider, a worm on a hook, every imaginable creature. All ages, parading together in their own handcrafted costumes and marching to the beat of their own drummer - whether imagined or real. And Mama was right - oh the stilt-walkers - towering above us- walking forward - backward - awash in eye-popping hues and clever bits of masks, making us go "ohhh" and "ahhh" with every step.

We watched as part of the collective - joining in hoots of appreciation for some of the more creative costumes  cheering on the youngest of the marchers who with their preschools and schools joined in the celebration. (And yes, a hand painted fish headdress DOES count as a costume!)

After about 40 minutes the parade ended with a final flash of stilt-walkers as amazing blue butterflies. Mama and I looked at each other, grinned, and declared it wonderful.

Sometimes the beat of a different drummer is wonderful - whether in a parade, in the style of a waitress's hair, or in the wicked wit of my mother - who can still make me laugh out loud after all these years.

I give Saturday a "10".