Week 8, Days 3 & 4

Yesterday was the annual Grandparents Day and I had been summoned. I’d gotten a good night’s sleep and was up after I’d snoozed the alarm for the second time. It was still dark and cold. The temperature outside was 29 and it was 20 degrees warmer in my bedroom.

My DIL had asked me to check my granddaughter out after the program and take her home. I’d planned to wait until I was on MY way home to go to the university supermarket but I rethought that and left a bit earlier (after going through my morning routine and taking a shower in my 46 degree bathroom) so I could do part of my shopping on the way.

There were a lot of people in the store but I got in and out pretty quickly. I headed over to the school and was dismayed to see a man out directing traffic across the road. My DIL had assured me there was plenty of parking at the four year old middle school and I wouldn’t have to be prepared for a hike. I guess that was if I’d gotten there much earlier than 15 minutes prior to the start time.

The man told me to follow the car ahead of me and park in the academy parking lot. When I got over there, I was tempted to be the Senior Class President and take one of the reserved spots but I refrained myself. I found an empty generic place almost at the end of the front row.

Having to walk much faster than usual left me out of breath but I was able to recoup when I stopped to register just inside the door.

The gym was just ahead of me when I went through the lobby and row after row of chairs were set up facing the stage. I spied a friend and her DIL but there was no empty seat next to her. I scolded her for not saving me one. The lady at the end of the row moved her legs so I could get in. I told her I wouldn’t be sitting there because I’d have to occupy my friend’s lap. She laughed and said, “Go for it!”

I went on around that section and finally found a vacant seat that wasn’t being saved. I didn’t have a good view of anything but heads in front of me and on each side.

The program started with the orchestra and the skill level was definitely above what I’d heard in previous years. There was a bell choir but the sound was mostly lost in such a large room. They needed amplification. The band started filing onto the stage and I was looking for my granddaughter. All of the saxophonists came in and sat down but she wasn’t among them. Later, another group came in and there she was, sitting in the first chair. I don’t know if that has any significance or not but I was relieved to see her.

What I didn’t know is there are two bands—the more advanced and the intermediate. The advanced wore green shirts and the intermediate blue. My granddaughter was in blue.

The advanced band played three numbers and the intermediate one. It was a far cry from the flutophones playing “Tuna Fish”.

A singing group had a couple of numbers and then the slide show started. It was long and I needed to go to the bathroom. After it was over, the principal started telling about all the needs of the school. I had to go. It was embarrassing because I was almost in the center of the row and farther toward the front than I realized. I made my way out to the center aisle, walked ‘way back to the back where the mats for the tumbling team were laid out, skirted them, around several groups of people sitting on the floor, more that were standing and out the door into the hallway.

I roamed around for a bit and made my way to the lobby where there was an information desk. The nice lady directed me to a bathroom that must be for the ones who work at the desk. It was a beautifully decorated one-holer—the bathroom, not the commode. By that time my eyeballs were floating and it was sweet relief.

Going back to the gym, the audience had turned their chairs around to watch the tumblers. I saw my ex-nephew and stopped to talk for a bit. He hugged me and I went on to find my granddaughter.

After she put her music stand away and found her cell phone, we made ready to leave. She wanted to go to the book fair but it can be a zoo and I couldn’t face it. I suggested she could call her mother to meet us there but she wouldn’t make a decision until we were past the turnoff. I told her she could go to the university supermarket with me (I still needed to get a few perishables) but we passed there before she’d say yea or nay. I asked her if she wanted to just go on home and she said yes. Finally!

She’d sat in the back seat where I could see her in the rear-view mirror and she was plainly not happy. I tried to engage her in conversation and she’d answer if I asked a question but that was it. It was the same when we got to the house. We sat on the couch in the family room, mostly mute. By and by, she went in to play the piano and I’d applaud at the end of a piece.

Her mother came home and we visited for a little while and I left after seeing the “loft” bed my son built in my granddaughter’s bedroom.

I went back to the supermarket and got bananas and a few other things and was on my way. Later, it dawned on me that the reason I was able to get in and out so quickly was because there were no sample tables set up. That was a first for Homecoming.

It was getting later and later so I went to the Chinese hole-in-the-wall restaurant and got vegetables in garlic sauce to go. I wouldn’t have to wonder what to eat when I got home.

Bi-Lo had BOGO Campari tomatoes so I did my other shopping there. I probably spent enough more to eat up what I saved but I didn’t have time to go to Walmart, too.

Going on 5 o’clock, I pulled into the driveway. I unloaded, put away, took some tomatoes to my CIL and ate supper. By the time I put the leftovers in the fridge, I was bone-weary tired. One plus, though. I wasn’t weak. And boy! Did I sleep once I got to bed!

Before I went to bed, I checked Facebook and found that one of the older boys at school had said something that deeply hurt my granddaughter’s feelings. No wonder she had been so quiet! I hope she isn’t going to be bullied. When I was growing up, the saying, “Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me” was popular. It isn’t true, though. Words can hurt and they can have a much longer lasting impact than a broken bone.

I barely made it to church on time this morning. The services were good. The pastor spoke on “The Last Romantic Bone”. He said most men don’t have a romantic bone in their bodies so that must’ve been what was taken from Adam to make Eve. Then he cited the texts that a lot of men use to beat their wives down (submit, etc.) and pointed out that other texts admonish the men to love their wives as Christ loved the church. There’s also a text that says to submit to each other. I can’t pull it all together the way he did. You’d have to have been there.

The vegetables in garlic sauce didn’t taste like they usually do so I played “Fix That Dish” today. The sweet was there but salty, sour and spicy were missing. I added a bit of kala namak, some Sriracha, and a splash of rice vinegar. It was much better. I have enough left for another meal or two.

I’ve spent most of two days being cold. The gym was cold. My son’s house was cold. The church was cold. It’s going to be a miracle if I don’t get sick. Twinkle has been keeping my lap warm, so that helps. Dandy Blend does, too. It’s a good thing it doesn’t have caffeine. I’d be awake all night tonight.

2 Responses to Week 8, Days 3 & 4

  1. Mary Jane October 27, 2013 at 2:27 pm #

    You had quite a “Grandparents’ Day!” Sorry that your granddaughter got her feelings hurt, and hope it isn’t a regular thing. Words really can hurt, in spite of the old saying.

    I laughed at the pastor’s comment about the romantic bone being the one taken from Adam! Maybe that’s why women ARE romantic. We were made that way.

    • Tommie October 27, 2013 at 3:06 pm #

      Yes, I did and I hope it isn’t, too.

      There ARE some exceptions to the unromantic rule but they are few and far between, I’m afraid. It would be nice if there were more.

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