No sleep last night and looking at the same tonight. Today was, shall we say out of the normal. For one on a day when I had no reason to I was up at 8 and ready to go by 9. Of course like every other grieving spouse that has lost their mate my mother made muffins and set the table for breakfast with coffee and eggs ready to go for the first arrivals.
After the sad and uncomfortable welcomes and hellos between the family we start setting out the day’s activities. Note I did not say anything about eating yet. Heavens no we will wait for the rest of the family to arrive for the meal to begin. Because we are so rarely all in the same time zones let alone adjacent zip codes out of duty we SHOULD wait.
I get up and shower wondering yet again how much eye liner is appropriate. After all it’s never none. I am a blond masquerading as a red head. I need definition on the mess, better known as my face. I am quickly told by my intentionally over planned and under delegated mother that one of the grand skills I have that has gotten me in to a ton of personal hardships and financial problems, is my job today; SHOPPING! I have to find an outfit for the funeral for her. And she claims she didn't know about me being a homosexual. And she is sending me on yet another shopping extravaganza as if that is actually an important duty. I don't mind. As long as my brother is around I don't need to do any important work.
Before I go on my great adventure I'm laid out on acceptable options: no stripes no low cut necks, no green, yellow or orange, skirts not too long something modern not tight through the mid-section. Then pulling out two perfectly nice and respectable skirts, I'm told she doesn't like them. AND hosiery is needed. Deep sigh. We're off!! I get in to one of the towns finest department store and start to locate the right woman's department. There appears to be no one in the store except those who work there. Rummaging through this and that I find a few nice things, wrong size. What size is a 12-14, medium? She always gets too cold so all of the seasonal offerings are out. And you know it’s tough to find black in the middle of June.
After about 45 minutes I have worked my way through most of the departments. Some very quickly ruled out. She would never wear designer, she wouldn't feel right or want to pay the price. I understand a fixed income. Half of what I'm looking at I can see my grandma wearing, although I love her that's right out, and the other portion is far too casual for the occasion at hand. Again being summer quite a few pieces are v-neck and too low cut. The dresses are the wrong color all together. I can't have her showing up in fuchsia far too cheery.
I'm lucky enough to find someone on their first day and am redirected to areas that I have already visited. With a helping of patience I look at the same sweaters and clearance racks that I had already seen. I thank her for her help and ask if she would recommend another department. She tells me I should stop by the casual wear area, retard, I've already been there. I thank her for her help and wonder in the opposite direction. Maybe petites mom is average to small in stature. At this point I have narrowed down exactly what I am looking for, a black suiting separates. I'm hoping I didn't use words that were too big or confusing, and thank the gods I found someone who understands what I'm talking about. But I'm told no. Looking back on it I'm curious if she did understand. Many years later I find a few things that will work. Less than the three outfits I was sent for but it’s covered.
By this time my brother and sister in law have finished with their tasks and found me in me foraging for pantyhose and under things. Talk about a fish out of water. I've never been inclined to do drag and I'm still not. So this is a vortex of absolute confusion and necessity. I had no idea of all the options in this world. I mean really! Silk or satin, shape wear and support. That's all too much for Mr. Rogers. I only occasionally wear underwear, so lifting and separating apparatuses are completely out of my scope of understanding. Not something I have ever looked for in a t-shirt. The perplexed looks that I am receiving only crescendo when I enter the lingerie department; where I truly had no clue what to do. The looks were, I think, a mixture of fear and astonishment or just plain freaking laziness. Wouldn't you think this guy needs some help? I was putting on my best lost child look and everything. If these were the people in the park all those summers ago when I was left there, I might still be feeding the birds.
I always thought it was our job as good sales people to be helpful, acknowledge the fools running a muck around us and help them spend their money. I don't think much of that happened this time, which is why we haven't recruited them at my company yet. Snotty stuck up moment over.
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