If It's Not One Thing

A girlfriend of mine used to say, "If it's not one thing, It's your Mother." Can anyone relate?

While she is a God-fearing woman who loves her family, my mother's true passion is shopping for clothes, going to the beach and eating. Strictly 'old school', she believes trying on clothes, sunscreen and health food are a waste of time.

So yesterday I offered to take her to the beach, which is an interesting experience under the best of circumstances. For those of you who don't know Daytona; we drive on the beach. 

Last summer Mom got her car stuck in the sand. She switched gears from reverse to drive for forty-five minutes while five good Samaritans pushed, rocked, and shoveled, before she realized that her emergency break was on. 

Get the picture?  She's the Lucy to your Ethel. The Abbot to your Costello. The Norton to your Kramden. The Kramer to your Seinfeld. The Calamity to your Jane. She's good-intentioned, lovable, loads of fun and a little dangerous. In fact, if I didn't fear litigation, she would star in her own blog.

This particular morning Mom needs a ride to her physical therapy session. (She took a fall up a flight of stairs....Don't ask.)  She decides to wear her bathing suit under her clothes so we can head straight to the beach after her appointment and not miss any valuable tanning time. Mom also thought it would be prudent to send me on a snack-run while she's at PT. 

This is where someone could get hurt, because especially now, Mom's idea of snacks and mine don't exactly mesh. For one thing, she eats anything she wants and I'm allowed to eat....ahhhh let me think..oh yeah..nothing! So I procure her junk food, and am out of that candy aisle faster than the M&Ms could say "Come hither". 

At 10 AM, when I pick her up from therapy, Mom asks about lunch. "What did you have in mind?", I ask. And even as the question left my mouth, I knew in my heart of hearts that there was only one place we could possibly be headed. 

Twenty minutes later Mom's sitting in her beach chair, covered from head to toe in dark tanning oil and feasting on fried chicken, potato chips, Snickers bars and Pepsi while I am hiding under a giant hat, wearing SPF 100 sun block, drinking water and suppressing murderous thoughts.

18 yr old Mom in Miami 

In case you're wondering, my lunch was a miniature tuna salad. Actually salad might be an exaggeration, unless you consider one tiny Campari tomato and two slices of cucumber a salad. Come to think of it, even miniature is an exaggeration if you consider that my seventy calories of tuna could fit nicely on a fifty cent piece.

My favorite part of the day was when the man walked past us and remarked how good the chicken looked. (Not nearly as good as it smelled, by the way.) Mom saluted him with a drumstick and said, "I know how to eat at the beach!" 

And I have to hand it to her. She really does.