Home again, home again, jiggity-jig! There's no place like home. Home, home on the range. Home is where the heart is. Home, sweet home. Bet you didn't even know I was gone.
I was at my mother's, checking items off her list. Wendy was also to go, but I asked her to stay home to tend to our neurotic dogs. More about that later perhaps.
On the agenda was a Friday morning meeting with my mother's lawyer/financial advisor to discuss arrangement of her resources for maximum advantage. My mother, she worries. My mother, she needn't worry as much as she does. There's a lesson there for me, I think.
That morning, she brought me a piping hot cup of coffee before I got out of bed. My coffee karma is some powerful shiat. Somewhere, sometime, in another life I must have spent a great deal of time bringing coffee to people in bed because I'm surrounded with folks who bring me coffee in bed. Lucky me.
Showered and dressed, I joined her in the kitchen for breakfast. She burst out laughing when she saw me. I had on black slacks, a black turtle neck and a muted orange silk blouse. Nothing amusing about my attire, I thought. Is it my hair?
"I'm going to wear a jacket almost an identical shade of orange!" she chuckled. "We'll look like twins." I noticed then she also had on black slacks and a black turtleneck. Oh geez.
"Well you'll have to wear something else," I said logically. I had only packed one appropriate outfit. She had her entire wardrobe from which to choose.
"I can't," she protested. "I painted my nails to match the jacket!" She splayed her fingers out for me to see her nails. Indeed, they were a lovely muted shade of orange.
About my mother. Jewelry, make-up, clothing, shoes. She goes to great lengths to coordinate such things. Me? Not so much.
After breakfast she disappeared into her bedroom and returned carrying a rose-colored suede blazer. "Wear this instead of that blouse," she commanded. Resistance was futile as well as impractical. We're enough alike without dressing the same.
Why does that thought scare me so?