Well, I didn't get in a walk today. I went to the grocery in the morning, which
Just as I finished yoga this morning a Hummingbird arrived for a little visit and stayed long enough for a picture. I figure that it's moving more slowly because it's colder. Nah, probably not, it'd move faster to stay warm, right? Maybe it's stoking up for migration. Speaking of which, earlier this week when I had the patio door open to let in the breeze I heard Canada Geese flying over. *sigh* I'm not ready for migration to start yet.
A very confused Downy Woodpecker visited then. First it tried to peck a hole in the cast concrete pedestal of the birdbath. It's carved to look like a tree, must be very lifelike. Then it tried out the metal fence stakes in the garden, and finally it investigated the patio umbrella. I don't think it found anything to eat or anything interesting in any of those places.
08 September--Barbara Malcolm, Better Than Mom's.
Fay was curious about the bags the three old ladies carried in at lunch. The bags were flowered, typical old lady bags, but they were bulging with mysterious shapes and had wooden or metal sticks sticking out of them. The three were very specific about which table they were seated at and each one carefully placed her bag at her feet. Fay took their orders and served them their cups of soup, each a different kind, and they asked to share an egg salad sandwich. She stood for a moment wondering how Brady would cut a square sandwich into thirds so each lady would get an equal share, but then she shrugged her shoulders thinking that was one problem she did not have to deal with.
Two of the ladies had coffee, “high test,” they both said, and the third, the oldest looking said she wanted a beer but would settle for the biggest Coke they had, and, she said, “put lots of ice in it, honey, I like to crunch ice.”
Fay walked away wondering about them; they sure did not seem like the run of the mill old ladies from the high rise retirement apartments down the street who pinched their pennies and once a month treated themselves to a lunch in Better Than Mom’s. I am keeping an eye on those three, she thought, they are surely up to something. What three old ladies could get up to Fay was not real clear on, but she definitely thought they were suspicious. Over the course of their meal she wondered if they had not stopped off at a bar for a little pre-lunch drink, especially the oldest one who had said she wanted a beer. The three women laughed through their light lunch and every time Fay went past their table or stopped to see if they needed anything, she overheard or interrupted one of them telling a dirty joke. And not your average run of the mill old lady dirty joke about bathroom issues or flashers, nope, these old broads told the raunchiest jokes Fay had heard since the time she had worked in a truck stop just off the Jersey Turnpike. Now those truckers told jokes that would curl your nose hairs, but in Fay’s opinion these three could have given those road hardened men a run for their money.
She was appalled at herself when she realized that she was standing next to their table blatantly listening. She immediately turned away and began removing the dirty dishes from the booth at the end and wiping the table and seats. She was sure that none of the ladies had noticed until the youngest looking one said, “Hey, miss, don’t you want to hear the punch line?”
Fay, blushing bright pink, turned back toward their table and said, “Actually, I do.”
Then the woman said, “So the headwaiter says to the guy, ‘With ze the tongs.’” The other two women roared; Fay clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from doing the same.
She surveyed the trio of gray-haired women. “You three are bad.” That made the customers laugh even harder. Once they had all settled down, Fay asked if she could clear away their dishes and refill their coffee and Coke. She came back with their fresh drinks, and then asked, “Are you ready for the bill?”
“Oh no, honey, you are not getting rid of us that easy,” said the oldest. “I am Iris, by the way, I am ninety-one,” she said.
“This teenager is Dorothy; she is just seventy-six, and the baby, Patti, here is a ripe sixty-three.”
Fay nodded at each in turn. “I am Fay.”
“We can still read, Fay,“ Dorothy said.
“Dotty, be nice,” Patti said, “or you will get us kicked out of here too.”
Fay stood with one hand on her hip, a smile on her face. “So where have you been kicked out of, ladies?”
Iris flapped her hand as if it did not matter. “Oh, just a couple of yarn shops run by good Christian women who would not know a good joke if it jumped up and bit them in the ass and made the worst coffee in the county.”
“Yarn shops?” Fay asked.
“Yep,” Dorothy said, reaching into the bag at her feet and pulling out a heap of rose-pink colored yarn. She sorted it out, lifted it up and it turned into a cabled sweater back. “See? We are knitters. We like to get together once a week or so, show off our projects, complain about our problems, discuss our aches and pains, and tell a few jokes.” She shook her head sadly. “Guess we are not welcome in polite society anymore. We are the current bad girls of knitting in Stinson.”
Today's toss was a box of 20 quart canning jars with rings. Of course I didn't have a fitted box for them so I stacked them in a box that I had on hand. Sixteen of them fitted four across in four rows and the other four got wrapped in newspaper and laid on top. If DIL1 doesn't know anyone who needs them, they're up for grabs or off to Goodwill. I'll hold onto them for a few days before I donate them.
I didn't sew today. Instead I worked on ending Better Than Mom's. At least I got some ideas down on paper. I'm having a hard time wrapping up the threads of the story but I'll manage somehow to get it to The End.
--Barbara
1 comment:
I knew those three old broads were going to be knitters. They've reached the time when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it. I hope they continue to make an appearance at Better Than Mom's. That woodpecker was persistent but sounds as if he didn't find anything to eat. However, he looked good perched there on your umbrella.
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