Mom got her first pedicure after she was in her 80′s, and she liked it. Who knew? She even had a favorite manicurist, David, who owned the little nail salon with his wife. I don’t have the right photo to accompany this story, so you’ll have to imagine the scene as I took Mom in for a mani-pedi one day.
Mom had become a tiny and stooped little old lady from the effects of osteoporosis. She moved slowly, shuffling along with a cane in one hand as I held the other to steady her for the walk through the parking lot of the strip mall where the nail salon sat. Although I am, of course, younger than springtime, technically you might say I was, um, approaching middle age.
As we inched along, a dusty old pickup truck with a gun rack in the rear window careened into a space near us, and a young man with sunburned skin and ripped blue jeans jumped out, almost in our path. You could even say he looked ruffian-ish in his faded t-shirt and dirty baseball cap.
As he crossed in front of us on his way to the liquor store, I noted the Metallica logo on his shirt and touched his elbow as I said, “You know, I never can remember. Is it Beavis or Butthead that wears the Metallica shirt?”
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I beieve it’s butthead, but I coud be wrong. Did you throw up the horns and start banging your head?
Beavis is the blonde, heh heh heh. Should I be admitting this? heh heh heh. You said STRIP mall….heh, heh, heh.
What a lovely moment. Your mother must have been so proud with the way the wolves raised you. I mean you could have ripped the guys head off, but instead you gave him a snarky little comment and went on. Bravo.
Thank you for recognizing my Good Social Graces.
Good one! I really hope that made him feel like an ass!
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