Man, was yesterday a busy one for me. I left the house early to run to the recycling center, then came home for a few minutes and cleaned up the kitchen, then had to head to Madison for my hair appointment.
(Yes, I intend to keep the same hair chick. I’d have to move to Beirut before deciding that the drive was too much, because once I find someone who does a decent job on my hair, I like to stay with them FOREVER.)
Once my hair appointment was over, I went to Fred’s office to drop off Danielle’s old computer – he gave it to a coworker, who’ll either donate it to a school or find a family member who needs a barely functional computer – and from there I went to Sam’s, then to TJ Maxx, then Petsmart, then to Target, then to Bed, Bath & Beyond. At this point it was 1:30 and I had to choose whether I wanted to go home and have lunch, then drive back to Madison to meet Danielle at Kohl’s, or just hang out at the old house in Madison until it was time.
Ultimately I decided to go home, have lunch, and take a shower to depouff my hair. I did so, bonded with the kitties for a while, then headed back to Madison.
I wandered around Kohl’s for about an hour before Danielle showed up, and then we started some serious shopping. She’s graduating next Tuesday, and needed to have a black or navy blue skirt or dress to wear under her robe. She didn’t have either, thus the shopping trip.
It didn’t take long to find a skirt and top she could live with, and then we headed over to find black shoes. The first pair she tried on were too small.
“Take off your socks and try them on,” I said.
“Well, you’re not supposed to do that,” she said, casting a look at a passing store employee. “I guess I’ll just wear black socks to graduation.”
I looked at her to see if she was joking. She wasn’t.
“Um, NO. You aren’t wearing SOCKS to graduation with a skirt!”
“Well, what am I supposed to wear?”
“Either go barefoot, or wear hose!”
“Hose?” she said with no little amount of confusion.
“PANTYHOSE?” I said, giving her the bug-eyed look. Then I reconsidered – how would the child KNOW what pantyhose were? I haven’t worn them Fred’s grandmother’s funeral six years ago, and it’s not like Danielle wears skirts all that often, either, and when she does, she usually goes bare-legged. Hard to blame her for not knowing about pantyhose when I’ve never suggested she wear them in the past, I guess.
She tried on a second pair of shoes, which fit, and we grabbed a couple pair of pantyhose, and we were done!
Last night Fred and I were laying in bed talking. He had also stopped by Kohl’s on his way home to pick up clothes to wear to graduation, and he told me what he’d bought (khakis and a button-up shirt, if you must know), and then he said “Are you wearing a dress?”
I lay in silence and wondered how far Alzheimer’s treatments have come in the past few years.
“You are, aren’t you? I remember you talking about the shoes you bought, or something?”
I lay in silence and wondered how fast early-onset Alzheimer’s progresses. Also, whether sundowning usually happens so late in the evening.
“Shoes with heels or something?”
“Come ON!” I said. “I’m going to have them haul you away to the nursing home! YOU WERE THERE WITH ME AND PICKED OUT THE SKIRT!”
Last month when Fred and Danielle were still living in Madison, the home inspector was doing his thing, and I decided to go to Kohl’s to find an outfit to wear to graduation. Fred couldn’t go home, ’cause he’d be in the home inspector’s way, so I told him to come to Kohl’s to help me choose an outfit. I tried on the outfit I’d chosen – a black skirt and yellow top – and he didn’t like the skirt because it was similar in construction to a poodle skirt. I thought it was cute, but he didn’t like it. So he ended up picking out a skirt for me to try on, liked it, and that’s what I bought.
Then we went over to the shoes, because probably New Balance slip-on sneakers might not “go” with the outfit, and I jokingly put on a pair of Daisy Fuentes shoes with six-inch heels, and Fred got a horrified look on his face, and I couldn’t find any shoes I liked, so we left.
Later that evening I said “Why’d you look so freaked out when I tried on those shoes?”
And he said “I’m just not used to seeing you in clothes like that. They’re GIRLY.”
“I CAN BE A GIRL!” I said. Which made him laugh while he was drinking his Diet Coke, and he choked and spluttered and laughed and when he could breathe again, he said “I didn’t say you COULDN’T, you just don’t usually dress like that!”
Which is to say, I usually dress like a teenage boy, I guess, and have done so for pretty much the entire almost-11-years we’ve been together. I don’t expect things to change – but I WILL be wearing girl clothes to graduation, so if the earth cracks open next Tuesday, you’ll know who to blame.
(I won’t be wearing pantyhose, though.)
“It must not touch The Sugs, Thomas.”
“Ohhhh, how I love the feel of the cool wood floor under my sweet fuzzy cheek…”
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.