DJ Mrs White In The Library With The Lead Pipe (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} djmrswhite) wrote,@ 2008-05-04 19:19:00 |
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The Second of Six Days in Texas, Plus Near-Death By Chocolate
In spite of the fact that the very mention of her name makes me think of being killed in a plane crash, I knew it was going to be a good day when I got into the rental car this morning and the first song to come out of the radio (I forgot to bring CDs with me on this trip) was Aaliyah's "Are You That Somebody."
Because, seriously, one of the best songs of the 1990s. Argue with me about it. You'll lose.
And if for some reason your ears were in an Aaliyah-less cave in 1998 then find some way to hear it. Depending on your tolerance for "Dr. Dolittle" tie-in music videos, I'd say just go watch it on YouTube, because for about a third of the video Aaliyah IS holding a hawk or a falcon or some other kind of crazy peck-your-eyes-out kind of bird. And that's awesome.
So today was Mother's Day for my mom since I go back to California on Friday. I gave her the earrings thatmoroccomole and I got for her yesterday and today was her scheduled pedicure/manicure at the spa in the basement level of the NorthPark Neiman Marcus.
I was a little worried at first because when we arrived no one had told the woman doing it that her client would be in a wheelchair, nor that the client would have to remain in the wheelchair while it was all taking place. I specifically told the phone-lady all of this when I booked the appointment last week but someone didn't do their communicationing job very well.
The good news is that the lady who did both the manicure and the pedicure was about as perfect as she could be. I'm blanking on her name right now--I want to say Cynthia something--but I made sure to get her card. She even wrote her schedule on the back of it for us so that we could request her next time. It turns out that her own mother is in a nursing home and so she was incredibly attentive to my mother's special needs.
Then we had lunch in one of the little restaurants they have inside the store. I forget which one it was. Mermaid Bar or something. Nice salads, which is a good thing because I was feeling pretty grody inside after the Long John Silvers/A&W orgy of deliciously disgusting "food" items from the day before.
We rolled around lots of stores and she cooed over purses she has zero need for. I mean, okay, yes, she COULD get a new purse if she wanted one. She does use one of her old Kate Spade bags for carrying her extra pair of pants when we go out. And she especially loved this tacky, ugly, white one at Dooney & Bourke or whatever that place is called.
The low point of the day came when I had to take her to the bathroom right before the appointment. We rolled into the men's room in what used to be the center of the mall, near Dillards. And three guys are standing at the sink doing who knows what, "washing their hands" maybe. It all seemed a little Larry Craig-ish to me. But not the point. They all just stood there, staring at the guy rolling a woman into the men's room with that dumb "hey that's not supposed to be happening in here" face. And no one moved. They just gawked. But I'm pretty great at staring people down so I gave them the face of "This is MY MOTHER who is IN A WHEELCHAIR IN CASE YOU CAN'T SEE THAT YOU DICKHEADS SO GET OUT OF MY WAY."
They stepped aside and let us through, all the way to the end of the restroom where the one occupied stall was the handicapped one. Occupied by some dude who was not in a wheelchair. So we waited outside the stall. And when he came out he gave us the same "WHY THERE IS A LADY WHERE I HAVE JUST MADE A DOODY?" face. But at least he said, "Sorry" when he saw that he'd held us up.
Me: "Uh huh."
And that handicapped stall is a joke, lemme just say. Room for one toilet and one wheelchair and maybe one person. But not that person's helper. At all. I banged her head against the wall trying to get her on the damn toilet. The door kept flying open because the lock was so old and worn down from years of use. The toilet paper dispenser is one of those slice-off-your-hand things that you have to reach up and into and your sliced hand pulls out one sheet of toilet paper, now featuring your hand-blood.
So hey, NorthPark Mall. You made the place five times the size it used to be but you DID NOT REMODEL THE RESTROOMS to reflect the actual physical needs of people in wheelchairs. GET BACK TO WORK.
On the drive back, she had a Hershey bar. I opened it for her, gave her a chunk and she ate it. I put the remainder in the little cup holder between the two front seats. I drove out of the mall parking lot and was about to merge onto the freeway when she goes, "Muh muh muh" and reaches out and grabs my left arm. Mind you, she was seated to my right, so this involved her leaning forward, reaching across my body and grabbing my arm.
Me: What? What's wrong?
Her: Muh muh muh. Muh muh muh muh.
Me: What do you need? My arm is fine.
Her: Muh muh muh muh.
Me: I have zero idea what you're telling me right now and as you can see, I am about to drive very fast on the freeway here so let go of me.
Her: Muh MUH MUH MUH. [And she's still grabbing my arm.]
Then it occurred to me.
I reached into the cup holder, picked up the chocolate bar and said, "This? Seriously? Do not tell me you grabbed my arm while I was trying to merge onto the freeway because you wanted more chocolate, you greedy lunatic woman."
She just laughed, grabbed the chocolate and put almost the entire rest of the bar into her mouth. She thought I'd put it into the pocket of the driver's side door instead of between us. She gave me the last piece. "I accept," I say. "And I also forgive you for ALMOST CAUSING US TO HAVE AN ACCIDENT."
Her: "Muh muh."
In spite of the fact that the very mention of her name makes me think of being killed in a plane crash, I knew it was going to be a good day when I got into the rental car this morning and the first song to come out of the radio (I forgot to bring CDs with me on this trip) was Aaliyah's "Are You That Somebody."
Because, seriously, one of the best songs of the 1990s. Argue with me about it. You'll lose.
And if for some reason your ears were in an Aaliyah-less cave in 1998 then find some way to hear it. Depending on your tolerance for "Dr. Dolittle" tie-in music videos, I'd say just go watch it on YouTube, because for about a third of the video Aaliyah IS holding a hawk or a falcon or some other kind of crazy peck-your-eyes-out kind of bird. And that's awesome.
So today was Mother's Day for my mom since I go back to California on Friday. I gave her the earrings that
moroccomole and I got for her yesterday and today was her scheduled pedicure/manicure at the spa in the basement level of the NorthPark Neiman Marcus. I was a little worried at first because when we arrived no one had told the woman doing it that her client would be in a wheelchair, nor that the client would have to remain in the wheelchair while it was all taking place. I specifically told the phone-lady all of this when I booked the appointment last week but someone didn't do their communicationing job very well.
The good news is that the lady who did both the manicure and the pedicure was about as perfect as she could be. I'm blanking on her name right now--I want to say Cynthia something--but I made sure to get her card. She even wrote her schedule on the back of it for us so that we could request her next time. It turns out that her own mother is in a nursing home and so she was incredibly attentive to my mother's special needs.
Then we had lunch in one of the little restaurants they have inside the store. I forget which one it was. Mermaid Bar or something. Nice salads, which is a good thing because I was feeling pretty grody inside after the Long John Silvers/A&W orgy of deliciously disgusting "food" items from the day before.
We rolled around lots of stores and she cooed over purses she has zero need for. I mean, okay, yes, she COULD get a new purse if she wanted one. She does use one of her old Kate Spade bags for carrying her extra pair of pants when we go out. And she especially loved this tacky, ugly, white one at Dooney & Bourke or whatever that place is called.
The low point of the day came when I had to take her to the bathroom right before the appointment. We rolled into the men's room in what used to be the center of the mall, near Dillards. And three guys are standing at the sink doing who knows what, "washing their hands" maybe. It all seemed a little Larry Craig-ish to me. But not the point. They all just stood there, staring at the guy rolling a woman into the men's room with that dumb "hey that's not supposed to be happening in here" face. And no one moved. They just gawked. But I'm pretty great at staring people down so I gave them the face of "This is MY MOTHER who is IN A WHEELCHAIR IN CASE YOU CAN'T SEE THAT YOU DICKHEADS SO GET OUT OF MY WAY."
They stepped aside and let us through, all the way to the end of the restroom where the one occupied stall was the handicapped one. Occupied by some dude who was not in a wheelchair. So we waited outside the stall. And when he came out he gave us the same "WHY THERE IS A LADY WHERE I HAVE JUST MADE A DOODY?" face. But at least he said, "Sorry" when he saw that he'd held us up.
Me: "Uh huh."
And that handicapped stall is a joke, lemme just say. Room for one toilet and one wheelchair and maybe one person. But not that person's helper. At all. I banged her head against the wall trying to get her on the damn toilet. The door kept flying open because the lock was so old and worn down from years of use. The toilet paper dispenser is one of those slice-off-your-hand things that you have to reach up and into and your sliced hand pulls out one sheet of toilet paper, now featuring your hand-blood.
So hey, NorthPark Mall. You made the place five times the size it used to be but you DID NOT REMODEL THE RESTROOMS to reflect the actual physical needs of people in wheelchairs. GET BACK TO WORK.
On the drive back, she had a Hershey bar. I opened it for her, gave her a chunk and she ate it. I put the remainder in the little cup holder between the two front seats. I drove out of the mall parking lot and was about to merge onto the freeway when she goes, "Muh muh muh" and reaches out and grabs my left arm. Mind you, she was seated to my right, so this involved her leaning forward, reaching across my body and grabbing my arm.
Me: What? What's wrong?
Her: Muh muh muh. Muh muh muh muh.
Me: What do you need? My arm is fine.
Her: Muh muh muh muh.
Me: I have zero idea what you're telling me right now and as you can see, I am about to drive very fast on the freeway here so let go of me.
Her: Muh MUH MUH MUH. [And she's still grabbing my arm.]
Then it occurred to me.
I reached into the cup holder, picked up the chocolate bar and said, "This? Seriously? Do not tell me you grabbed my arm while I was trying to merge onto the freeway because you wanted more chocolate, you greedy lunatic woman."
She just laughed, grabbed the chocolate and put almost the entire rest of the bar into her mouth. She thought I'd put it into the pocket of the driver's side door instead of between us. She gave me the last piece. "I accept," I say. "And I also forgive you for ALMOST CAUSING US TO HAVE AN ACCIDENT."
Her: "Muh muh."
